Normal, relatively

The brits left Manila last Sunday. We had a crazy Saturday night, their last party night. It was insane, no one else showed up, either they had already made plans or were daunted by the storm that was raging. But the three of us weren't deterred at all; we were determined to have our drunk night. We spent hours in Tbar (real name Tiananmen Bar & Resto but it's too long to say...and confusing since there is a bar that is actually called that but we refuse to change our ways). We started our evening with a series of shooters and long drinks and cocktails and funny conversation. After a couple of hours, we ordered hot soup which Char thought was a bad idea because it would sober us up. But Oli was soaked to the bone after a brief venture out in search of a cash point and had begun to shiver. We got a buzz going and decided to head on to Government a bit past midnight. It was only down the road but the rain was still doing its thing so we got a cab and got out again after 3 minutes. Hehe.

I knew the club had renovated a couple of months ago, but I haven't been there for nearly a year now and I was curious about the changes that were made. The registration table was outside, unlike before. Another new thing, they stamped our arms with cocks. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Most important change: prices had gone up. From the cover charge to the drinks, everything was more expensive but still affordable. They must still be paying for the newly installed cages and the flatscreen TV. They also added some fake looking chandeliers to the VIPish section on the balcony and spruced up the smoking room, but it's still suffocating if you stay too long. Oh and the bouncers had new uniforms. Otherwise the place looked relatively the same. Still poorly lit and a bit scummy. Char and I felt like we were coming home. Haha. One of the bouncers remembered us, that was a big surprise. Oli got hit on as planned and we met some random people, all friendly except for this one guy, huge and beefy, who looked like he wanted to murder Oli because the man's wife decided she wanted to be best friends with O and insisted on paying for our drinks. But we were so wasted by that time, it was past 4, we didn't want any more drinks. We were all danced out, well as much as one can be on a Mariah night, apparently the dj had just gone through a breakup and was being emo. Too much to smoke, too much to drink, we stumbled outside and went in search of chickenjoy. It was all we could think about. We spent ages in Jollibee, sobering up, fooling around, being really loud.

We finally decided it was time to call it a night. It was getting light out, the sun signalling the dawn of a new day, forcing us to feel fatigue we could no longer ignore. Together we stepped outside in the soft falling rain, stood waiting for our cabs and in unspoken agreement, kept our goodbyes brief and happy. Hugs, kisses, smiles. We parted ways.

I had a fantastic time. And spent all of Sunday in bed, smelling of cigarette smoke. Whoever came up with CSI Sunday was a genius.