27 hours and counting...Joe's sleepless adventure through Taipei.
EPISODE 1
Wake up, eat greasy hashbrown fused to greasy napkin while running for greasy bus, sit on different not so greasy bus for another hour and a half listening to a French Danny DeVito look alike talk to his other French buddies. Arrive at Kansai airport. Wait for 4 hours.
That was how the day began...what was soon become the longest day known to man.
Me and Peter, hand in hand, greasy hashbrown to greasy hashbrown, proceeded to the departure gate for EVA airlines, the cheapest way to get yo'asian ass across the sea. Although from afar it appeared as though the tail wing had been attached to the plane with duct tape we were pleasantly surprised by the shnazzy inflight features that EVA air had to offer. However, we both came to the coclusion that the personal television screens (complete with video game feature) were merely a distractionary tactic to move our prying eyes away from the cracks in the floor. But we made it none the less so EVA gets a big ol' "way to not kill us in a furry of fire and luggage" salut from me.
Because EVA is just sooo darn elite, they do not supply a hotel room when they strand thier passengers in foreign cities over night. So me and Peter were left with a situation, what does one do when stranded in Taipei from 3pm to 7am the next morning? Answer: Party your ass off until your flight leaves. No need for hotels here, give us some beer and a gay bar and we can make miracles happen.
But first we needed to ditch our bags since we had decided that hotels are only for the weak at heart. After a quick freshen up session which included the ever hardcore "I'm gonna shave my armpits in an airport washroom" we headed for the "bonded baggage" counter, A.K.A "the watch the guy who speaks no English loose your bags counter." After much gesturing, and a fine blend of japanese and English we managed to get rid of our bags and continue on to the bus stop that would bring us to our new home for the next 12 hours, the streets of Taipei.
We began our night of Tawainese-travel-time-killage at "the Tavern" a expat pub that serves up a fabulous menu of old weird British guys trying to pick up the Taiwanese version of cougars and big ass glasses of beer. Over several pints me and Peter discussed the finer points of Canadian politics while the wierd foreigner sitting behind Peter listen in in between grostesquely large and sloberry bites of the biggest ass hamburger known to man. We also watch a fat man in a suit continuous squeeze the ass of a glassy eyed, worse for wear taiwanese girl before she finally sobered up enough to see what was before her and hit the road.
The Tavern was nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular English pub transplanted into the heart of Taipei. All good.
Next we decided to go the Cafe Fresh a gay bar that touted 4 floors and cheap beer. It was a fair hike away and we decided to stop in a cool little lounge along the way only to be ignored by the bartenders and glared at by a weird british guy with a bloated ego and a fine command of Chinese. Needless to say, one gin and tonic and back to "operation queeny hunt"
The funny thing about gay bars is that no matter what country you're in they are all the same. Same technofied Madonna tunes, same boys wearing the same clothes, dancing the same dance, talking the same talk. Funny how gay bar cheese is truly universal.
Cafe Fresh, like all the gay bars before her, offered us up a fine blend of eccentrics and E-freaks with which to converse and enjoy.
Specimen A: Jenvieve de la Nuit (name created in full by Joe and Peter): Picture this...you are a 40 year old ex pat women living in Taipei who enjoys wearing hippy skirts and tops that are too short. You also enjoy getting so tweaked out on god knows what that it looks like your eyes are going to pop out of your head and dancing. Clearly someone has been stuck in the glory days of youth for a little too long. We enjoyed watching Jenvienve swivle and sway her way in between the beefcakey boys of summer while barely keeping her eyeballs fastened in the sockets. We were just about ready to go over and plant some weird thoughts in her overcooked brain by wispering "what do you think about the underlings" in her ear when she suddenly dissapeared and we were left to seek out a fresh freak to occupy ourselves with.
Specimen B: Celft palate lipsynch lover machine: This guy was also an ex-pat, he was working his cleft palate to the max by trying to smooch every tight bodied taiwainese love machine that was unlucky enough to get his tight ass within CPLLM's reach. But then true love struck when CPLLM spoted the DJ. The open shirt, smooth chest and tight nipples were just too much for him to resist so CPLLM decided to pull out his secret weapon of LOOOOVE! The move he likes to call "get so in thier face that they can't get around you and when they try grab thier head and stuff in into your crotch in the desperate hope that they'll latch on." CPLLM initially cornered the DJ in his booth by leaning over the turn tables lipsynching the words to Lauren Hill's "I need you Baby" with as much lusty fervour as he could. Lips we liked, eyes were winked, pelvis was thrust in time. But no bite... it was looking bleak for both CPLLM and the DJ who was trapped up perverted gay stalker creek without a paddle. Finally the DJ, after ignoring CPLLM for as long as was bearable was left with no other choice but to make a mad dash out of the DJ booth. This required expert timing (kinda like kung-fu fighting...hugh ha!) There was a duck and a dodge but alas the DJ could not get around CPLLM's secret move and ended up having his head ground into crotch that was all too ready to receive it. Another dodge and a flash of ligth and the DJ was gone. CPLLM was left once again on his own.
Specimen C: Vincent:
V: Like Hi! Are you guys a couple?
J,P: Nope
V: Like cool! I like totally thought you were a couple, like wow!
J,P: Uh ya, like...neat(?)
V: so what's your names?
J,P: Joe and Peter
V: Like what? woah I'm like tripping. You're cute... this is my hot friend..he's half vietnamese he's hot. Like cool
Random guy: who the hell are you?
V: Like wow, he's hot. What was your name again? Whoa, he's got a nice ass, Peter you're cute...woah...(giggles, giratting, random solo pelvic thrusting, more giggles)
P: uh ya, got a boyfreind in Japan, sorry
V: Like what...what was your name again? Whoa I'm fucked...(more giggles)
J.P: Uh we gotta go...
V: What? Nice ass!
Ya that was nice...there's one in every bar.
By the time 3am came we were thouroughly exhausted and I was fairly hammered from drinking one too many long island iced teas. So we hit the road and ended up at everyone's favorite late night spot, the Yoshinoya. Miso was slurped and a weird brown boiled egg was consumed, then off the airport.
We're not sure what the deal is but every airport in asia is airconed to point of deep freeze so we decided to wait outside. I proceed to pass out cold sprawled on the dirty concrete only to be woken some time later by Peter and chucked in a cab headed to the other part of the airport.
we checked in, attempted to get a hold of our luggage and then carried on to the point of our final departure.
My baggage trasfer didn't seem to go so bad. All looked like it was going to be fine but Peter's agent seemed a little worse for wear and about a hour after we checked in the agent comes running after us (obviously he had been searching the airport for a while) telling us that they can't find Peters bags...so we hand over some more reciepts and hope for the best.
At that point I had to leave since me and Peter were taking seperate flights to different parts of Vietnam. I tried to calm his nerves about the bags not showing up and bet him 1000 yen, a beer and a bag of salted almonds that the bags would be in Hanoi when he got there...as of this moment I haven't heard from him so I don't know who's buying.
I managed to board my flight on time, sleep the whole way to Vietnam and then wait 2 hours for my airport pick-up that didn't show.
Finally after many a phone call and pacing and got to my hotel, had a nap and here I am. In one peice...ready to take on Saigon.
Mom's getting in at 11:30 tonight and she's got a bag of Canadian imported brownies in her bag for me...bliss, pure bliss.
so that's it.
end of blather.
shout outs...
Peter...rock out Hanoi. Hit me up with some tips
L.P.P...wakarimasen means "I don't understand" wakatta means "I understand". Don't forget to call Eric about the conference, Represent Kameyama style while I'm gone yo.
M.T... Boston represent baby. Catch you on the flip side rock star.
The rest of you...stayed tuned. More to come...day 1 of 23 isn't even over yet.
EPISODE 1
Wake up, eat greasy hashbrown fused to greasy napkin while running for greasy bus, sit on different not so greasy bus for another hour and a half listening to a French Danny DeVito look alike talk to his other French buddies. Arrive at Kansai airport. Wait for 4 hours.
That was how the day began...what was soon become the longest day known to man.
Me and Peter, hand in hand, greasy hashbrown to greasy hashbrown, proceeded to the departure gate for EVA airlines, the cheapest way to get yo'asian ass across the sea. Although from afar it appeared as though the tail wing had been attached to the plane with duct tape we were pleasantly surprised by the shnazzy inflight features that EVA air had to offer. However, we both came to the coclusion that the personal television screens (complete with video game feature) were merely a distractionary tactic to move our prying eyes away from the cracks in the floor. But we made it none the less so EVA gets a big ol' "way to not kill us in a furry of fire and luggage" salut from me.
Because EVA is just sooo darn elite, they do not supply a hotel room when they strand thier passengers in foreign cities over night. So me and Peter were left with a situation, what does one do when stranded in Taipei from 3pm to 7am the next morning? Answer: Party your ass off until your flight leaves. No need for hotels here, give us some beer and a gay bar and we can make miracles happen.
But first we needed to ditch our bags since we had decided that hotels are only for the weak at heart. After a quick freshen up session which included the ever hardcore "I'm gonna shave my armpits in an airport washroom" we headed for the "bonded baggage" counter, A.K.A "the watch the guy who speaks no English loose your bags counter." After much gesturing, and a fine blend of japanese and English we managed to get rid of our bags and continue on to the bus stop that would bring us to our new home for the next 12 hours, the streets of Taipei.
We began our night of Tawainese-travel-time-killage at "the Tavern" a expat pub that serves up a fabulous menu of old weird British guys trying to pick up the Taiwanese version of cougars and big ass glasses of beer. Over several pints me and Peter discussed the finer points of Canadian politics while the wierd foreigner sitting behind Peter listen in in between grostesquely large and sloberry bites of the biggest ass hamburger known to man. We also watch a fat man in a suit continuous squeeze the ass of a glassy eyed, worse for wear taiwanese girl before she finally sobered up enough to see what was before her and hit the road.
The Tavern was nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular English pub transplanted into the heart of Taipei. All good.
Next we decided to go the Cafe Fresh a gay bar that touted 4 floors and cheap beer. It was a fair hike away and we decided to stop in a cool little lounge along the way only to be ignored by the bartenders and glared at by a weird british guy with a bloated ego and a fine command of Chinese. Needless to say, one gin and tonic and back to "operation queeny hunt"
The funny thing about gay bars is that no matter what country you're in they are all the same. Same technofied Madonna tunes, same boys wearing the same clothes, dancing the same dance, talking the same talk. Funny how gay bar cheese is truly universal.
Cafe Fresh, like all the gay bars before her, offered us up a fine blend of eccentrics and E-freaks with which to converse and enjoy.
Specimen A: Jenvieve de la Nuit (name created in full by Joe and Peter): Picture this...you are a 40 year old ex pat women living in Taipei who enjoys wearing hippy skirts and tops that are too short. You also enjoy getting so tweaked out on god knows what that it looks like your eyes are going to pop out of your head and dancing. Clearly someone has been stuck in the glory days of youth for a little too long. We enjoyed watching Jenvienve swivle and sway her way in between the beefcakey boys of summer while barely keeping her eyeballs fastened in the sockets. We were just about ready to go over and plant some weird thoughts in her overcooked brain by wispering "what do you think about the underlings" in her ear when she suddenly dissapeared and we were left to seek out a fresh freak to occupy ourselves with.
Specimen B: Celft palate lipsynch lover machine: This guy was also an ex-pat, he was working his cleft palate to the max by trying to smooch every tight bodied taiwainese love machine that was unlucky enough to get his tight ass within CPLLM's reach. But then true love struck when CPLLM spoted the DJ. The open shirt, smooth chest and tight nipples were just too much for him to resist so CPLLM decided to pull out his secret weapon of LOOOOVE! The move he likes to call "get so in thier face that they can't get around you and when they try grab thier head and stuff in into your crotch in the desperate hope that they'll latch on." CPLLM initially cornered the DJ in his booth by leaning over the turn tables lipsynching the words to Lauren Hill's "I need you Baby" with as much lusty fervour as he could. Lips we liked, eyes were winked, pelvis was thrust in time. But no bite... it was looking bleak for both CPLLM and the DJ who was trapped up perverted gay stalker creek without a paddle. Finally the DJ, after ignoring CPLLM for as long as was bearable was left with no other choice but to make a mad dash out of the DJ booth. This required expert timing (kinda like kung-fu fighting...hugh ha!) There was a duck and a dodge but alas the DJ could not get around CPLLM's secret move and ended up having his head ground into crotch that was all too ready to receive it. Another dodge and a flash of ligth and the DJ was gone. CPLLM was left once again on his own.
Specimen C: Vincent:
V: Like Hi! Are you guys a couple?
J,P: Nope
V: Like cool! I like totally thought you were a couple, like wow!
J,P: Uh ya, like...neat(?)
V: so what's your names?
J,P: Joe and Peter
V: Like what? woah I'm like tripping. You're cute... this is my hot friend..he's half vietnamese he's hot. Like cool
Random guy: who the hell are you?
V: Like wow, he's hot. What was your name again? Whoa, he's got a nice ass, Peter you're cute...woah...(giggles, giratting, random solo pelvic thrusting, more giggles)
P: uh ya, got a boyfreind in Japan, sorry
V: Like what...what was your name again? Whoa I'm fucked...(more giggles)
J.P: Uh we gotta go...
V: What? Nice ass!
Ya that was nice...there's one in every bar.
By the time 3am came we were thouroughly exhausted and I was fairly hammered from drinking one too many long island iced teas. So we hit the road and ended up at everyone's favorite late night spot, the Yoshinoya. Miso was slurped and a weird brown boiled egg was consumed, then off the airport.
We're not sure what the deal is but every airport in asia is airconed to point of deep freeze so we decided to wait outside. I proceed to pass out cold sprawled on the dirty concrete only to be woken some time later by Peter and chucked in a cab headed to the other part of the airport.
we checked in, attempted to get a hold of our luggage and then carried on to the point of our final departure.
My baggage trasfer didn't seem to go so bad. All looked like it was going to be fine but Peter's agent seemed a little worse for wear and about a hour after we checked in the agent comes running after us (obviously he had been searching the airport for a while) telling us that they can't find Peters bags...so we hand over some more reciepts and hope for the best.
At that point I had to leave since me and Peter were taking seperate flights to different parts of Vietnam. I tried to calm his nerves about the bags not showing up and bet him 1000 yen, a beer and a bag of salted almonds that the bags would be in Hanoi when he got there...as of this moment I haven't heard from him so I don't know who's buying.
I managed to board my flight on time, sleep the whole way to Vietnam and then wait 2 hours for my airport pick-up that didn't show.
Finally after many a phone call and pacing and got to my hotel, had a nap and here I am. In one peice...ready to take on Saigon.
Mom's getting in at 11:30 tonight and she's got a bag of Canadian imported brownies in her bag for me...bliss, pure bliss.
so that's it.
end of blather.
shout outs...
Peter...rock out Hanoi. Hit me up with some tips
L.P.P...wakarimasen means "I don't understand" wakatta means "I understand". Don't forget to call Eric about the conference, Represent Kameyama style while I'm gone yo.
M.T... Boston represent baby. Catch you on the flip side rock star.
The rest of you...stayed tuned. More to come...day 1 of 23 isn't even over yet.
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