Smoke permeates the air. I initially felt out-of-place because I don’t consider myself a party boy; You see that girl from Sweden – what’s her name again? Ah, the music is too loud. Conversations are merely punctuated by smiles that mean “I didn’t hear what you just said”. Was it Ona or Onak?
She’s rather reserved…but extremely beautiful. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Move on to the next pub. People dance like crazy… sweat and all. Was it a pub crawl bomb I just drank – the one where you go down on your knees and drink from a funnel? There goes Moves like Jagger.
Don’t you think Singapore is a revelation (unexpected and expected at the same time)?
Blurry vision, unsteady walk, two more bars to go. Body against body, the heart rate is accelerating. “Hey, where have you been the past 28 years?” Not that it matters because I will not see you again tomorrow anyway.
Overheard: “your friend will kiss you” “What?” “You buy her a drink” “You smell nice!”
For some, money speaks.
And those Australian guys – they really know what they’re doing. If only I have half of their confidence. Haha. But maybe it’s a cultural thing. I’m a Filipino, and to me, that move is bordering to aggression.
Sweat run down my nape. Here I am recording a vision of temporary reality- one laced by alcohol and frenetic music. Is this what it means to be young? Unfiltered. Flirty. Unsure?
Until the morning comes (when I’m already thinking sharply), I won’t really know.
I feel like passing out. Not really. Not yet. One last bar. And I have a flight to catch tomorrow.
(Note: Not my usual entry. I wrote this on my phone while taking a brief ‘rest’ from the crazy scene inside the pub – thus the broken sentences; Photos were taken using a camera phone)