What's up with Chris?

This is a journal of my recent life in a far off land. Things started off very difficult for me here, and only got worse when I left for Thailand and came back. I am hoping for a drastic turn-around. This journal will show whether or not that happens. Remember, it starts from the bottom!

Name:
Location: Canada

What I look for in life seems so simple to me, yet so impossible to find and hold on to.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Superstar

The other night I went out with one of the teachers I work with and a couple of her friends visiting from out of town. We chose to go to a place none of us had ever been, a place called Superstar Disco. Let me run you through it. We get there and take an elevator to the sixth floor as instructed. The outside was decorated up very much like a Las Vegas strip club. A casino downstairs and plenty of bright neon flashing lights reaching up to the stars themselves perhaps, but of course, you can't see those cuz of the smog, and lots of girls dressed up like... not so reputable women. The entranceway is a brightly lit mirrored hallway, somewhat lavish in appearance (though perhaps not so lavish as Louis' Hall of Mirrors). There is a window with three prices listed, men $600, women $400, foreigners $300. My immediate reaction is good, with a slight hesitation at the thought that this might be yet another "foreigner hangout". When we walk inside I find that it is indeed as I had suspected, but not quite as I had expected. There are tons of people seated around a two-tiered stage in a very large room. On the stage, are a trio of scantily-clad Taiwanese girls singing English songs (they were cute so I had no problem with it). It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and just as they are coming around, Nicky leans over to me and says "Hey Chris, there are a lot of white girls here". There certainly are, I think to myself, more than I've seen in one place at one time since coming to Taiwan... and they are dressed precisely like those women of ill-repute I mentioned earlier. They were all tall, good-looking, blond-haired and walking around in tiny little mini-skirts that barely covered much of anything at all. As for other white guys, however, there is not one in sight. As we sit down and order some beers, one of these girls walks by and runs her hand across my back and it's not long before I'm sitting down and having a drink with her. I find out that she's Ukranian, as are many of the girls there, though the majority are Russian. Her English is OK at best, and she tells me she's only been in Taiwan for a month. Nicky and her friend get into a conversation with another of the girls right behind me, in Russian (the Taiwanese English teacher that I work with is having a conversation in Russian... man I gotta get more skills). I end up getting physically dragged by some Taiwanese guy over to his table and promptly have another full drink in my hand... a pitcher in fact, but I opt for a glass. These guys barely speak a word of English, nor do the Russian girls they're with, so I'm thankful when the singing stops and the stage is swarmed with people eager to dance. There was good music and plenty of smoke and lasers. After another hour or so, there's another live performance and the singer keeps looking at me (she was cute too). Had I been more of a man, perhaps more would have come of it, but let's face it, I'm not much of a man in that department. There was a fascinating dance-off between a Taiwanese B-Boy and a big black stripper from Ghana. Later on that night, I found the stripper freestyling in the little boy's room and he decided I was his good friend. Later still, he took it upon himself to show me a few moves (which I'm unlikely to ever do again, in public). Nearing the end of the night, a Filipino band came out to perform and yet another cute girl, though she pulled me on stage to dance, and there I spent the rest of the night. I even sang the chorus to the ever-popular Bon Jovi classic, "It's My Life" (I had no choice, the mic was shoved in my face). In the end, as is my way, I went home alone. How do I do it? It's my gift - I'm a superstar.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Momsy says,
I love this blog message...sense of humour, colour and descriptive detail about an environment that is so foreign to me.....Good writing..keep it up.

4:24 a.m.  
Blogger Geoff Busbridge said...

Show me your moves!
Sounds like there's a whole lot of cute going on in your neighbourhood. Nice, even only for the scenery.
Think about you often, Superstar.

Oh, you might want to set up word verification so Carl Zimmer and the like don't get through. :)

1:40 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Man, well at least it's good for the ego. But you are proud that you went home alone anyway, it's part of how you see yourself and that's why you're making such a show of it. Besides, I would suspect from the description that at least some of those women would have charged to take you home, and I don't mean cab fare. At least you didn't go home with the big black stripper. I dunno, sound like he liked you... ;-)

I've got to agree with Mom about the writing though... I hope you're writing about all this somewhere other than just your blog.

Megs

1:21 a.m.  

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