bloodsport
“why do all the whores love me so much??!!!”
- Dan
macau. the vegas of the east. and the last bastion of portugal in asia. apparently. there wasn’t a portuguese person in sight. except for one lone security guard fucker. he looked dazed and disorientated. one of the stragglers left behind. probably wondering where all the corner shops and tearooms have gone.
anyway, so we arrived at night over an impressive undulating bridge into a shower of neon light. there is no strip as such. just loads of huge casino’s all over the show. a bit willy nilly. but this doesn’t blunt their earning power. they gross more than $6bn per annum. more than vegas. macau is so rich it gives each citizen a cash handout of like $10k each year. just for laughs.
so we jumped straight in there. we pooled funds. but in our excitement we failed to employ the fool-proof-83.333%-chance-of-winning-strategy that frank, taryn, and i developed during years of late night gambling at suncoast. we put it all on red. we lost. with nothing else going on went home (later we were to find out from a local lady that macau does have a swinging night life. unless you compare it with hong kong. or singapore. or anywhere else in the whole world ever. which was useful information. kinda. i guess).
the next morning we were up at 11am. bright-eyed and bushy tailed. using mike as a guide, we took four left turns and somehow ended up back outside our hotel. so we headed over to the big tower thing. home of the world’s highest bungy jump in the whole world ever. this was news to me. thought it was bloukrans. but apparently not. turns out bloukrans is the world’s highest bungy jump in south africa. trust me. i know. i checked the stats. macau tower - 233m. bloukrans - 216m. unfortunately, due to our tight scheduling, we didn’t have time to do the jump. but we did walk on the glass floor. we were true heroes. except for mike. he crawled around on his hands and knees and got sweaty feet.
like all true heroes, we needed to eat. and the manc needed to eat big. with the lingering portuguese influence, macau offers “one of the world's most intriguing gastronomic adventures”. so we headed to some place that specialized in portuguese-chinese-fusion cuisine. in theory this sounds great. in practice this means pork chop (chinese style – ie. battered and fried) on a prego roll.
i did spot bacalhau on the menu (though i fail to see the chinese connection here). luckily i warned the others off. fuck that shit. pure fear factor food. i remember when porto used to make it in london. took about five days to cook. he had to wear a nose peg. and duck out into the back yard every five minutes to get fresh air. and borrow incense to burn in the kitchen to get rid of the stink. neighbours used to complain about the smell. thought we were harbouring ginger folk.
after lunch we took a stroll through the old town. it is quite a nice town.
friday evening we hopped on the fast ferry to hong kong. checked in at the hotel. freshened up. and headed out for a few beers. lan kwai fong. now there’s a freakin jol my chinas. even the 7/11 is happening. and the girls are all hot. i love asian women. i love them all. every single one of them. they’re awesome. i think i love them more than scando’s. which is a big claim. but they just look so good in pilot uniforms.
anyway so after dan met some hot honky bird, the night quickly deteriorated. she took us to some club with a bouncer who liked to hug folks. various shots followed. as well as a few misunderstandings. i thought i had stolen a shot from some chick at the bar. i felt guilty and tried to pay her for it. but apparently it wasn’t her shot. a learning – never just randomly attempt to give a girl money in a bar. especially if she is hot. she will assume that you think that she is a hooker. she will not be happy. it will ruin any chance you may have had. if she is rank – no worries (just make sure you get the money back).
after a couple of young swiss girls (one apparently had an unusually small head – but i thought she was hundreds). a laughing philippino. some stage dancing. a few quality robot moves. an argument with twelve tax drivers. and a dodgy taxi home. we were all tucked up safe and sound in bed. except mike.
the next day we were up at 1pm. we took a tram to the peak. the peak is famous for one thing. and one thing only. jean claude van damme. and bloodsport. the best film in the whole world ever (other than thrashing usa – according to pete). bloodsport tells the real-life story of an american, frank dux (van damme), who was trained in the ways of ninjutsu by a japanese master of art. to honour his mentor, dux leaves for hong kong to participate in the kumite – an illegal underground, freestyle, full-contact martial arts tournament to which the world’s deadliest fighters are invited every five years. the peak is where dux trained by meditating whilst doing the splits. this specific exercise is widely acknowledged by all the great martial arts experts (including chuck norris) as being the single most important factor for dux winning the tournament. i paid homage. english people are ignorant.
we then headed off to some backstreet markets on both hong kong island and kowloon (chinese mainland – but still hong kong). the markets have some very rank shit. smells like bacalhau.
that night we headed back to lan kwai fong. now there’s a freakin jol my chinas. but the mojo wasn’t the same. so we pressed on to wan chai. we were attacked by hundreds of prostitutes. it was awesome. we thought we had lost a good man when dan was pinned down and dragged into the whore-house. but he pulled through.
i don’t feel like writing anymore.
posted by Dave at 10:23 AM
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now contrast this to a veteran tash wearer such as myself:
there can only be one winner. vote below in the comments section. allah to bless the winner with a virile life full of of extremely masculine hairy children.
