Macau Misdemeanors

I am still not recovered from Patrick's birthday party, and I didn't even drink.

But he sure did, and I'm proud of him. Partially for holding an inordinate amount of booze down, and also for being a much more cheerful drunk than many other people I know.

I didn't take any photos that night since, to be honest, I am such a social  wallflower to begin with that the last thing I needed was a camera to hide behind. But I have stories...

My chiropractor/friend/gym partner Rick is going on vacation next week. So he is working out feverishly. And I was dumb enough to join him Saturday afternoon. I hadn't slept a lot Friday night, and I knew I wouldn't sleep at all Saturday night, but I still felt I ought to go and exercise.

I paid for that decision dearly. In fact, I am still paying for it three days later.

God, getting old sucks.

After having my ass kicked for an hour, I hobbled home where I tried to decide what to wear. Since my housekeeper had not been here since December, I had few choices. But they were good ones, I like to think.

Am I old-fashioned for shining my shoes before I went out? I've never subscribed to the "let me beat the dogsh*t out of my Doc Martens so I will look cool" line of thinking.

Maybe because I pay for my DMs myself.

Either way, I wanted to look presentable, and I actually enjoy the vaguely nostalgic notion of a man shining his shoes before he leaves the house.

If only I could be so proper when I choose Christmas dinner companions, eh?

Soon enough, it was time to go. I was off like a rented tux!

I arrived at Shun Tak Ferry Terminal at 7:40 and finally (after being in the same room at least twice and not doing so) introduced myself to Shan Chen. Who, by the way, is even prettier in person than in pictures.

And she's very prettyin pictures.

But I was glad I saved my introduction for a time when I was not wearing orange everything and a bucket on my head.

I don't think that's a self-esteem issue, do you?

While waiting in the ferry loading area, I recognized Simon Yin from his photos. We had exchanged messages about the necessity of excoriating execrable film, so I wanted to introduce myself. Apparently, I frightened him.

I forget sometimes that I'm... me.

But we talked for a few minutes, and I met lots of other AnD folks before boarding the ferry amidst much merriment. Which Simon instigated more than once by reminding all and sundry on board (or within earshot, and Simon has a big voice, so it's the same thing) that it was Patrick's birthday. Lots of applause and singing 'Happy Birthday.'

During the trip I met Henry Chung and saw his amazing 3-d camera apparatus that he built himself. It was very impressive.

Especially since I have about as much math skill as a developmentally disabled oyster.

The DIY aspect of it was also something that appealed to me. Since we were headed to Macau, the conversation inevitably turned to gambling, and it was discovered that Patrick had never shot craps. Simon declared that Patrick would [lose his craps virginity] that night, if for no other reason than, according to Simon, first-time crap shooters are inevitably winners. Simon, of course, intended to bet heavily on the new shooter. However, it was soon noted (and asserted) that both of them might well be in an alcoholic stupor of such proportion that neither of them would be capable of gambling. While Patrick acknowledged this with a slight bit of caution and trepidation, Simon seemed instead to gloat in the cruel inevitability of utter inebriation.

No, he embraced the inevitability and stuck his tongue down its throat.

I admire a man with such a thirst for misadventure (and booze).

I ate a typical 'road dinner' of Nissin noodles and milk tea. My goals here were twofold. One, I needed to eat, and I needed to stay awake. My other goal was to see if the aroma of Pork Chowder noodles would make anyone seasick. I grew up on the ocean and I am perfectly at home on a boat. Not everyone is, especially with the smell of freeze-dried pork water wafting about.

We arrived at the Cotai Ferry Terminal and were greeted by a big bus with a sign that read "Patrick Lee B'day Party." Some of the revelers-in-waiting needed to go to the Venetian to check in, and so needed the other bus.

Those of us with no intention of ever going home, literally or figuratively, ambled aboard the waiting bus and enjoyed the weird lighting inside. I kept expecting to hear Wayne Newton surreally whispering in my ear, urging me to wager heavily on whatever game was at hand...

I sat with Marco and Etchy, talking about my weird Christmas with an AV star.

Oddly, I've become nearly blase about it, but I forget how sick and twisted the experience really was and hence am prone to underestimate its interest value to other people.

We pulled up in front of the Sands and wandered into the casino. I have always been fascinated by gambling, if for no other reason than that I have less than no desire to indulge in it.

Which, given my other proclivities, is a miracle and a Godsend.

We all went up to the food court, where I mostly watched people eat. I say mostly because it seemed Etchy would nevereat. His first food order was so unforgivably wrong that he changed restaurants. The second was also somehow muffed. Finally, he achieved dim sum, and no, that's not a euphemism.

We went downstairs to watch a bit of the floor show, two Cantopop singers who worked the casino crowd marvelously. I am not really a fan of the music, but I respect these guys for their ability to entertain and to keep people's attention through professionalism and talent.

I, on the other hand, generally take the cheap, lazy route and drop trou.

We made our way up to The View, the VIP lounge at the Sands. I've never been there before, or anywhere else like it, and I must say it was nice.

I liked it even better because there was no Barbara Walters.

There were, however, Stereo Bimbos, women who would dance on a pair of raised platforms in a vaguely suggestive manner. I found myself instinctively wanting to give the 1$ bills, but luckily refrained. Some of them seemed to treat their job like a gym membership, vigorously bumping and grinding around, if not actually on, the beat.

But I had to wonder... what's the appeal of a gig where you don't get tips, probably don't have a huge paycheck, and perpetually run the risk of having said of you "Have her washed and brought to my suite" by some uber-rich VIP gambler who's so accustomed to having his way that the word 'no' is something virtually foreign to him?

Well, dancing with Patrick and Simon is a big part of the appeal, I think. I know I enjoyed it.

I will also admit that the view from The View is, well, VIP-quality. I have never been so high in Macau, I told someone, and that's a fairly relative statement. I took in the sights for some time, marveling at the view and the fact that I was where I was, in such a place that I could take the view in.

But, as I said before, I had resolved to drop some of my wallflower petals and try to be a bit more social.

[insert pollination aspiration humor here and promptly admit total defeat in the endeavor].

I introduced myself to Andy On, whom I had just watched in Forgive and Forget, which he seemed to want me to do about that particular film. But I thought he was good in it.

He and I both grew up in the "Biggest Little State in the Union," Rhode Island.

Yeah, it's a state and not part of New York...

It seemed Andy got a head-start on the revelry, but he handled it well, which is a hallmark of Rhode Islanders; we have the highest per-capita alcohol consumption of any state in America.

It's the most Catholic too, which probably is heavily correlated.

I also met Jennifer Tse Ting Ting. I wanted to ask her how it felt to be the daughter of one of the suavest men ever to grace the silver screen, Patrick Tse Yin. I shamelessly asked if she would introduce me to her Dad, since I need to interview him for some research I am doing on mahjong films...

The rest of the night is, I think, best described in a series of moments. Because if I keep on like this, it will take me days to write it!

I saw Reni Wong, and he introduced me to PAL Wong. I will say to you what I said to them: Art fascinates me because I am utterly incapable of it. Hence, I have incredible respect for people who can produce art, and they are two people who can do it.

I got to meet 2R, which was awfully nice. I made a fool of myself thanking them effusively for their part in Dancing Lion, one of my favorite films from 2007. But so what? I liked it, and I am glad I could tell them so.

I saw Mio, and talked with her about things like air quality and winter temperatures. Hardly intriguing, I admit.

God knows I love women at least as much as I hate alcohol.

Not even my ex-wife damaged me as much as Jack Daniels did.

I haven't had a drink in 21 years. But sometimes it is fun to watch people drinking. And sometimes it's fun to see how people handle their booze.

Patrick was drunk. But he never stopped smiling, or being friendly, or simply having a great time. And it was nice to see.

Simon was the same. He was a bit more vociferous, but still a volcano of cheer.

I think he would have kept smiling even if the battery for his pants had run out.

At one point I ran across Shan Chen, and gladly so. It was obvious she had been drinking a fair amount. Not by any visible signs of drunkenness, but because she was holding a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label in her hand. She said she was supposed to keep it away from Patrick.

I remember  thinking "A girl who looks like that, holding a bottle of whiskey. What more could any man ever hope to see?" Like I said, I haven't drank in over two decades, but the image was still of such a nature that I reflexively wanted to propose.

Luckily for us both, I demurred.

I hope someone sends me the picture she and I took together. All I will say is that one of the most painful experiences of my life, getting tattooed across my sternum, was worth it.

In fact, I remember being in quite a few pictures. I hope I get to see them.

The party shifted to Cubic, a small club with very loud music. At this point, I found myself tiring a bit, so I was glad to just stand against the wall looking like a security guard. It's fun to watch people at 3:00AM, drunk out of their minds, doing things they'd never do otherwise.

I also noticed that it seemed as if someone had brought one of the dancers from The View with us and put her on the stage. Or maybe Cubic has their own; who knows?

After a while, the party wound down and I found myself somehow elected to keep an eye on Patrick. Not that I minded. As I have said, he is a remarkably nice person, even when sh*t-house drunk. So when he thought he lost his passport, he wasn't belligerent at all. He just seemed rather dumbfounded, or, more accurately, rumfounded, given his intake for the night.

I helped look for his passport back at The View, which had closed, but in the midst of the search we found out that Patrick had in fact given someone his passport for safekeeping and then promptly drank it off his mind.

Stephen, whom I was assisting in the search, kindly brought me back to the Cotai Ferry terminal. We talked about movies and other stuff, like AnD, and I found myself realizing how grateful I was to have found a place where I can meet people who are intelligent, articulate, funny, and look great holding a bottle of Johnnie Walker...

Back at the terminal, I caught up with Jason Tobin, and we ended up talking from Macau to Mongkok. About movies and guitars.

I haven't mentioned everybody I met and/or spoke to, and I apologize. I need to finish this blog entry this month! But I want to take a minute to thank Patrick and everyone else for allowing me to have a great night and experience a lot of stuff I never would have otherwise. I am exceedingly grateful to have made so many new friend while having some of the best parties I have ever seen (without rampant felonies).