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It has been over 6 years and I don't really have anything to show for my time here in HK, other than an impending citizenship and marginal improvement on my Cantonese. It takes one weekend of under indulgence to trigger existential questioning.

I've decided, it's time to make another attempt at continued education. I contact my very first manager and my most recent manager and kindly ask for referrals.  Within 24 hours, I submit my application for a Masters in Science. Science is fun.

Currently reading: "Born Standing Up"

That time I took a really long hard look at myself in the mirror

Friday afternoon, a new employee to the firm tests the waters with: "Hey, my wife is out of town. Anybody want to grab a happy hour drink?". He's a new joiner, making an effort to get to know the team. I pause. I have plans to wake up early and hit the gym before the first junk of the season. Just one drink. A group of six of us head down to a small oyster bar on Queen's Road East, the ambiance is nice, we put back half a dozen wines, and half a dozen oysters.

It's still early, and continue onto another bar. This time it's Old Fashions and Negronis. 10 pm, starting to feel a little woozy, I can still make it home and wake up early. The group disbands, I flag a taxi and as I'm about to hop in, I feel a tug on my arm. My co-worker jumps into the taxi "Come back to mine, I have some nice Japanese Whisky!". Uh, ok. 11 pm, we finish the whisky. "How about one more drink in LKF?". Midnight, I check in my work bag into the cloakroom of the bar. "Hold on, my wife is calling". I bump into another group of friends. The spiral begins. I end up at another bar. 2 am, incoherent. I really need to go home.

Flag a taxi and finally, one drink later, I'm home. Concierge sees I'm clearly inebriated I gift hima perfunctory greeting and take lift up to apartment. Apartment keys aren't in my pocket; I grit my teeth. Frantic thoughts. Who has my spare key? Both spare keys are with people are conveniently overseas this weekend. I go down to concierge and request a locksmith. At this hour, the going rate is at least 500 HKD. Pull out my wallet, I realise I don't have enough cash; I grit my teeth. I go down to the nearest ATM and pull out my wallet. I realise I have lost my bank card; I grit my teeth. What is happening?

Ok, I have a spare key at work. Where's my work building pass? Wait, where's my work bag? I instantly snap back to sobriety and retrace my steps back. I retrieve my work bag and return home. The next morning my concierge is accosting me in Cantonese, I can only imagine what he's saying. Time to make some changes. Adding "lock picking" to my list of skills to learn this year.

It's finally happened

It is the sound of a glass shattering, followed by a raucous mirth. The commotion propagates up from street level and through my eleventh floor windows. I'm stirred and briefly open my eyes, it's still dark, I turn and close my eyes. The disturbance continues. Unintentionally, they have succeeded, I am awake. Like a nosey neighbour I pull aside the curtains and peer out of my window onto the street below. Friday night drinks are in full effect and the procession has moved onto the street. I look at the clock, it's 12:45 am. Yes, I'm at home on a Friday, but that's besides the point. The disturbance continues.

Irate, I decide to take action. What's the emergency number in Hong Kong? It's not 000, or the 911. I have no idea, I pull out my phone and spend the next 5 minutes searching for Hong Kong noise complaint hotlines. The screen bathes me in LCD glow, I cannot find anything. I decide to call the restaurant below and give them a piece of my mind. The dial tone starts ringing, there's no answer. It rings a 4th time, and a polite gentleman answers the phone. "Sorry, there seems to be a lot of noise coming from downstairs, not sure if it's you guys, but do you mind keep it down, else, I'll have to call the police". "Hi, sorry, thank you for not calling the police, we will try to keep it under wraps". Click.

I feel a sense of emancipation. The noise mutes almost instantly. I drift back into slumber, despite being so worked up. I wake up the next morning realising what I have done. I've become the person that calls in noise complaints.

Everything in real time: Thailand

There's a handful of individuals in the Hong Kong troupe (note, troupe, not troop, subtle but poignant difference) that follow the mantra "everything in real time". Essentially it's YOLO, spontaneity, and a lack of planning packaged into one phrase. The tenants of "Everything in real time" include: not making any plans, booking flights last minute and not telling people about your plans until you're standing in front of them somewhere where you're least expected.

This trip was real time - Flights and hotels booked on the Thursday, flight out on the Friday, arrive in Bangkok on the Friday evening. The door opens, she's standing there glistening in sweat with a lopsided bindi on her forehead, oh and she's holding a Phuang Malai. Weird, but not surprising.

This is a continuation of the story-arc with the purveyor Coachella tickets. Not the first meet up, the first meet up was a rather vanilla meal and a massage (oh, and Tagalongs). This was essentially the same thing. Meals and massages. Highlight includes: Food. Evening run around Lumpini Park. Questionable transferable tattoos. Getting my Cinnabon and Krispy Kreme fill. Fun.

"Ooga Chakka Ooga Ooga" - Hooked On This Feeling, Blue Swede