Careening through the darkness

Hypothetically speaking, if I had this blog in University or high school, what would I have written about? Exams, hanging out in front of arcades, girls, getting my license, underage alcohol consumption, sports tryouts? I fantasize about the content, in my head it doesn't make for good reading. Things felt a lot simpler back then, it was really only one external pressure. Graduate and find a job. At least that's what it felt like back then.

It's the first weekend since the end of the semester. School, has taken over my life and inevitably, taken over this blog. So when school finishes and you have the ability to reclaim your life and go out for a 'big night'.

Big night indeed. I've woken up on my sofa with: a 2K bill, a black eye and my concierge telling me that he found me sleeping outside the apartment building security door.

It's the first time I've not remembered a chunk of the night. It's also the first time I've googled "How to tell if you've been roofied". This is a stark reminder as to why I started a masters.

Sister in town

Are you a Mark?

There's something oddly satisfying about waking up hungover only to discover that there there's a Typhoon Level 8 battering down the city. Not satisfying in the sense that people's lives are at risk, but satisfying that I have no agenda. Two typhoons hitting Hong Kong in one week. Typhoon Hato, a T10 followed by Typhoon Pakhar, a T8 four days later. Given the severity of the previous typhoon it was decided that I would not leave the apartment. Not today.

An evening at Taz. A hen's party. A mission to find somebody called Mark. It's the second last weekend before school starts. About to kiss goodbye to my social life I roll over and message the Australian with the thick accent on Instagram. When did people stop getting phone numbers?

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.