Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Day One. Actually Day Three is you count the travel.

We have arrived in Hong Kong. Our flight was 16 hours and 10 minutes long, but who’s counting when your seat doesn’t recline but rather scoots your butt forwards in to a position that can only be described as the ‘shove your penis in to your belly button position’. (Yeah, you had to click the explicit content warning on this sight, so don’t act surprised)
But 16 hours isn’t so bad when you’re being gently rocked to sleep by turbulence. At least I think it was turbulence although it might have just been the plane rocking from the incessant bowing of our flight attendants. Come on ladies, you don’t have to bow to me after handing me a wet-nap. It’s just a wet-nap; they come free with a box of Kentucky Fried Chicken. But our plane landed safely in the correct destination and I guess that’s really all that matters.
After checking in to our hotel and freshening up, we set out to get a quick bite to eat before attempting to sleep. We wandered around our neighborhood checking out a few menus outside to see if they had what we were in the mood for, which luckily was Chinese food.
 Now I know that people call me “negative, cynical, pessimistic, even an asshole”, but those people don’t know shit, I’m a realist. There are things about other cultures that just drive me nuts. I don’t think less of the culture for it, but I’m not going to pretend that I blindly love everything that I see. Also, I think that I can be quite generous in my praise of things that tickle my fancy, such as my love for Asia’s obsession with photo menus. Nothing gets my mouth watering like a photo of oily noodles with slices of spicy beef on top. See, when you just read “oily noodles with slices of spicy beef”; it probably did nothing for you. But if you had seen the picture, shiny, shiny noodles with steam coming off of them, covered with pieces of beef just glistening with spicy goodness you too would walk in, sit down, and point at that picture to the waitress, whom I would presume would then bow to you and give you a wet-nap.


Anonymous said...

But heated wet naps are the best! Glad you got there safely. Have a duck beak for me. MomD

gorgeous one said...

what a fuckin waste- you're writing this pretty good shit and no one is responding to it. so here ya go. I read it and now I'm responding. you wont need your weekly "colon blow" on a diet of oily chicken on rice. you'll probably start to dance better if you're all nice and loose inside too. nothing worse than being jammed up.