We’ve finished the bucket of Carlsberg, over some interesting conversation. My nerves are getting more numb as Nikhil and I proceed to sing “Sweet Home Alabama” at the top of our guts. We’ve kicked the bucket and it’s time to move on.
It is hot in KL. Over the day, I have consumed multiple cans of Gatorade, Ice tea, Diet coke, watermelon juice and Lemon juice from the street, Beer and of course good old water. More than thrice the usual intake. There is something in the hot air that’s making me constantly thirsty and I’m realizing the same is with almost everyone. I have easily consumed 4 litres of liquid since the morning. But have not visited the toilet yet. Have I perspired that much? Or has my popo stopped working? These are the kind of philosophical thoughts one tries to suppress when one is trying to enjoy oneself..
We’ve already cleared the cheque when it arrived, so we just get up and leave. It’s still early and The Rum Jungle is full of middle aged white people and some locals. No happening crowd yet.
Walking out, about 100 metres to the right is a BIG club, Aloha.
Looks inviting, but there are these rather large bouncers at the gate. Will they allow 7 single men in? They usher us in with a wave and a smile, so far so good. Aloha is PACKED. Like that train, only everyone looks hot and smells good. There are more good looking women here than Table Coasters. I walk up to a waitress and ask if it’s possible to get a standing table for us. Canno’. Says she. We walk closer to the stage (Second club with a stage, I guess live performance is appreciated here).
I am very pleased because all speakers here are JBL. This causes me to bob my head harder.
We look up and see that the club is fabulously constructed and has 2 private levels upstairs. This is where the F1 personnel and members will party for the big Johnnie Walker Mclaren party tomorrow night. Can we get a pass?? “Keep Walking” says someone.
The music is clubby, loud and fun. Some of us continue with our beers, some switch to whiskey. (Be a man!).
NC takes his cap off and the girls go wild when they see his hair and eyes. Lol
We kick this bucket in about 30 minutes and decide to trickle out of this club too. Choo Choo train our way through the sardines and we’re out. I get out first and blink hard. There’s a live formula one car at the entrance. How on earth did we miss this on our way in?
Last year’s car. Kimi’s Mclaren, in all it’s livery, complete (well, I’m told there was no engine inside). The rest of the boys come out, slapping each other’s backs and generally being masculine. Upon seeing the car, we all turn into little girls at a Justin timberlake concert. We’re jumping up and down, trying to hop and lie down at the same time. The car looks hot. I a no Mclaren fan, but they do have a hot looking car. Though I have seen a few F1 cars at close personal quarters in Europe (A Ferrari and a BMW.Petronas). seeing one here, in this mood and energy gets to me too and I’m also behaving like a famished man at a free buffet. We click approximately 600 photos here. Do not touch says the sign. We didn’t. Almost.
Hunger strikes. Besides, eating will give our insides an opportunity to digest the alcohol easier. The only one who hasn’t had a drink is KK. Being official photographer, he could not allow his solitary eye to wander or get lazy and click pictures out of focus, or Rudra would place a boot on his backside.
We walk on to another club called The Beach. There’s a lot of women outside. They look like trained professionals (Do not try this at home gentlemen), but I could be wrong. What do I know anyways. Again we are ushered in with a wave. The Beach is really happening. There are 2 sections, one with loud music and dancing, the other that looks like a restaurant. We decide to eat something first. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that most girls here are escorts. Some are nice looking and are wrapped around old men like a mink coat.
We gather round a table and order our food. GTO and KK are vegetarian. They order a pizza. Ajmat and I order a Stingray and Vietnamese Beef Ball Noodles between us. I discover that Ajmat has a deep liking for oriental street food and eats anything that used to move. NC is open to experiments, but no squid, no beef, nothing shocking, no rats etc etc. We order Satays and NC gets his first taste of Mee Goreng. He’s soon hooked to it for life.
Right above Ajmat’s head, I can see the Petronas Towers. They are completely lit up and looks surreal. The steel reflects the architectural lighting in varied manners and it looks unearthly. Makes a beautiful view. We decide to go visit the towers later in the evening.
Dinner’s over soon, we clear the cheque and make our way back into the club. A quick discussion, regarding whether we should order and entire bottle of Chivas between us, is quickly squashed. A young bunch of escorts are plonked on 2 tables near the floor. The Manager takes one look at us and orders the girls off the sofa and table. Like clearing away empty bottles. The music is loud and retro. There are black tipped sharks swimming in massive tanks above our head. The floor is full of people, dressed in F1 colours. Suddenly a guy that looks like Michael Schumacher walks in (he’s a little older though) resplendent in Ferrari overalls and a helmet in his hand to boot. People cheer, he enjoys the attention and orders a drink.
Ajmat and I are dancing. No, not together. The music is rocking hard and then he suddenly plays KC and the Sunshine band. Ajmat almost pops a vein with delight. He lets loose, dancing with gay abandon. (Gay=Happy) and I join him. We sing and dance the night away. It is great fun. NC is chilling and laughing loudly. His impression of Ajmat was one of a proper oldish man. It is shattered now, say he.
By now, I’ve switched over to Chivas too. KP keeps thinking he wants rum, but never orders it. KK has taken 100 photos in the club. People think we’re page 3 celebrities. (If you want to see more pictures of the revelries, keep wanting, lol)
It’s time, we move on outside. The street is buzzing with people and energy. The time has changed and so has the attitude of the gates at all clubs. No longer are we ushered in. There is a “drink commitment”, a fancy word for cover charge. OR we can order a bottle of chivas and saunter in. Only 3 or 4 of us enjoy Whiskey. The idea is scrapped. Also the cover charge is high (about Rs.400 a head) especially for KK, who doesn’t drink. Besides, we’re tired. We decide to skip the clubbing scene and head for the towers.
The towers are stunning. Words cannot describe the effect they have by night and pictures will fail us too. We’re floating on the dancing, adrenalin and the beer/whiskey and decide that it’s time to lie down under the towers. GTO and Nikhil are tired and they take a bus back to the hotel. And then the 5 of us just lay there.
Staring at those towers till about 11.30. It felt really late, because we’d started the revelries early.
We’re just lying there, all of us and wondering what it would be like to have love with someone you sex right there. Heh heh. Oh the drunken words of drunken men. So politically incorrect.
We then caught the last monorail and walked back from the station to the hotel.
Back at the hotel we decide to meet up in our room. NC and KK transfer some pictures to the laptop and look at them laughing. I regale everyone with stories of Thailand (3 weeks ago). We have wireless broadband, but somehow it doesn’t work on the higher floors.
Ajmat starts nodding off in the middle of my stories. It’s time for bed. We’re all tired and happy.
End of Day one.