I was ready for bed last night when I got a call
I was ready for bed last night when I got a call from Chris, who was heading over to Ziga Zaga at the Hyatt to meet up with Michael and some other people. Although sleep called, I figured after staying home all day doing laundry and tidying up for the new year, I wouldn’t mind getting out for a bit.
The crowd at the ritzy club consisted of the usual suspects: a mix of well-to-do white people, Taiwanese people dressed with questionable fashion sense intended to impart a sense of wealth and status more than taste, and a couple of black people. The band was from Europe and did a good job on most of the covers it played, though the sound system was pretty horrible.
We sat at a high table; Chris and her friend Alita would go dance periodically while Michael and I would stay and people-watch. A couple at a nearby table had embarked on a more-or-less constant lap dance, while an Asian girl stood staring at the stage and moving her hands in slow motion.
The restrooms were ambiguously labeled, as Chris found after walking into the men’s room by mistake (or so she claims). The men’s room door had a pear on it. I’m not sure what the women’s room door had on it; an apricot I think. I couldn’t be sure because any male person walking past the men’s room would immediately be confronted with a gremlin dressed in a hotel uniform. The gremlin would then tell the male person “Pear! PEAR! NOT APRICOT!” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The bar did have one of my favorite drinks, CC rye whiskey and ginger ale. Periodically Chris and Alita would overheat and go outside to cool down. I went with them one time at the end of the band’s last set so that I could watch people leaving. One fat woman stared at me as I sat on the pavement ouside. She was wearing purple slippers and suede pants, and I thought Jesus, if anyone should be stared at it’s her. But it was obviously not my crowd, so I just pointed and laughed as I usually do.
Speaking of pointing and laughing, I got a good laugh while shopping at SOGO for a new bathrobe. My old one, previously white, is now a dubious shade of yellow and needs replacing. Also, it doesn’t cover me as well as it used to. My employers give out bonuses of SOGO gift certificates in lieu of actual money, and I wanted to use the NT$1,000 I’d accumulated in one swell foop.
I looked at one terrycloth robe and asked how much it was. “NT$2,800” I was told.
“Yeah, ok,” I said, and kept walking. I then found one for NT$5,000 and chuckled at the clerk. I continued on to find one for NT$11,000. Then I found another that looked nice. Nothing special, just a terrycloth bathrobe. “How much is this?” I asked the saleslady.
“Oh, that one’s on sale!” she said brightly. I waited a moment but that’s all she said.
“And How Much Does It Cost?” I said, trying to enunciate clearly.
“NT$33,000.”
“BWAAAAHAAAAA!” I shouted, causing the entire floor to turn and stare. I didn’t say anything else, wiped my tears of hilarity on the bathrobe and departed.