Dropping rancid American beer bombs on Taipei
Another good bar-vomit story . . . It was while I was living in Taipei. A girl I was dating invited me to go with her (and all her friends) to one of their favorite places. When I asked her about it, she said "Girls drink free, all night, guys pay $10, all you can drink, all night."
Naturally, I was like o_O . . . "Are you sure about that . . . 10 dollars U.S., and I can drink all night?"
"Yeah, as much as you want."
"But I can drink $10 worth in the first five minutes. What's the catch?"
"It's just beer, no liquor," she said.
Still . . . something was wrong. Taiwanese don't have the drinking capacity of Westerners, but something still sounded odd. I realized what "the catch" was when we entered and went down the stairs into the bar. It was a basement dungeon kind of place, and, directly at the bottom of the steps as you entered, there was the club's entire stash of alcohol for the night: case upon case of warm Milwaukee's Best. They were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, and from one end of the back wall to the other.
"See?" my friend said to me, smiling, pointing at the boxes of American poison, "All you can drink."
"Dear God no," I whispered.
"What?" my friend said . . . "It's good, no?"
I smiled at her and said "Yes. Wonderful. Let's get started."
I figured my best bet was to chug the first 6 or 7, and, after that, my taste buds would be a bit more numb and I'd be better able to block it out. The club was small and it was in the middle of summer. Summer in Taipei is beyond hot. It's a sauna anywhere you go, and everyone in the place was taking off clothing as the night progressed. Giving a crowded room full of Taiwanese and endless supply of rancid American lager is like that Gluttony scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life. The explosion is coming. You're just not sure when. There was a dance floor in one corner of the place. It was small and crowded and we weren't so much dancing as slithering around in a sweaty pile of flesh. It was beautiful. It was an orgy of humid, drunk Asian girls, and I was the only foreigner in the place. I felt alien and mysterious. The free beer had washed away all the inhibition. I was disgusted when I first saw the stacks of beer at the bottom of the steps, but now I saw the genius of it. Girls were pouring it over themselves while dancing. It was a beautiful swampy mess.
When we left, we had to step over the bodies on the sidewalk. It looked as if someone drove by a small crowd and threw a hand grenade. It was pure carnage. There were bodies convulsing and vomiting on the ground in a 60 foot radius from the front door.
"Jesus Christ," I said to my friend as we sat on a step nearby, dizzy and sweating, "This place would be shut down immediately in The States."
"Hmmm," she said, contemplating the bodies around us on the ground. "That's too bad."
"Yes," I agreed. "Yes it is."
Naturally, I was like o_O . . . "Are you sure about that . . . 10 dollars U.S., and I can drink all night?"
"Yeah, as much as you want."
"But I can drink $10 worth in the first five minutes. What's the catch?"
"It's just beer, no liquor," she said.
Still . . . something was wrong. Taiwanese don't have the drinking capacity of Westerners, but something still sounded odd. I realized what "the catch" was when we entered and went down the stairs into the bar. It was a basement dungeon kind of place, and, directly at the bottom of the steps as you entered, there was the club's entire stash of alcohol for the night: case upon case of warm Milwaukee's Best. They were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, and from one end of the back wall to the other.
"See?" my friend said to me, smiling, pointing at the boxes of American poison, "All you can drink."
"Dear God no," I whispered.
"What?" my friend said . . . "It's good, no?"
I smiled at her and said "Yes. Wonderful. Let's get started."
I figured my best bet was to chug the first 6 or 7, and, after that, my taste buds would be a bit more numb and I'd be better able to block it out. The club was small and it was in the middle of summer. Summer in Taipei is beyond hot. It's a sauna anywhere you go, and everyone in the place was taking off clothing as the night progressed. Giving a crowded room full of Taiwanese and endless supply of rancid American lager is like that Gluttony scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life. The explosion is coming. You're just not sure when. There was a dance floor in one corner of the place. It was small and crowded and we weren't so much dancing as slithering around in a sweaty pile of flesh. It was beautiful. It was an orgy of humid, drunk Asian girls, and I was the only foreigner in the place. I felt alien and mysterious. The free beer had washed away all the inhibition. I was disgusted when I first saw the stacks of beer at the bottom of the steps, but now I saw the genius of it. Girls were pouring it over themselves while dancing. It was a beautiful swampy mess.
When we left, we had to step over the bodies on the sidewalk. It looked as if someone drove by a small crowd and threw a hand grenade. It was pure carnage. There were bodies convulsing and vomiting on the ground in a 60 foot radius from the front door.
"Jesus Christ," I said to my friend as we sat on a step nearby, dizzy and sweating, "This place would be shut down immediately in The States."
"Hmmm," she said, contemplating the bodies around us on the ground. "That's too bad."
"Yes," I agreed. "Yes it is."