March 12th: Nantong tomfoolery

Day 177

Pants dry, I rode home, watched "Dawn of the Dead" with commentary (can't get enough of this film lately), showered, went to the bus station bound for Nantong. On the ride over, I rehearsed lyrics while Rhys and Mike talked Civ III in the back.

Once in Nantong, we caught a couple cabs to Matt's dorm (it is forbidden to take five people in one cab, whereas scooters can fit a family of four with an infant resting on the handlebars and not be stopped by police.) Had a couple drinks with Ben (formerly Michael Moore of the Nantong Xmas party) and their prized pupil Bruce, a Chinese guy in his 20's with staggering English skills.

Another cab ride took us to a restaurant downtown, and we assembled around a large round table, next to another table also filled with expats, including Peter (John Wayne from the Xmas party) who either didn't remember that I was Uzbekistani last time we met, or just didn't bring it up to save face.

Bruce ordered for us, and we were introduced to a new dish called diamond potatoes, which had the flavor and texture of deep-fried pancake. They were a little too good. Ganbei-ing occured for every occasion: Erin's birthday, fellow British countrymen being well met, and Bruce practicing all the different ethnic ways of saying "cheers."

Afterwards we went to the DVD store and I grabbed the Kurosawa boxed set for Montana, some animated stuff for myself. Then it was on to the "Park Bar," a bar located in the middle of a park, replete with lagoon and boats and shitty cover band playing everything from S.H.E. to Avril Lavigne. Somehow our table got into a heated half hour debate about whether pantskirts existed or not. I met a Pole in the bathroom briefly and back at our table he interrogated Rhys and I with true Eastern bloc tenacity.

Mike met a few girls in the bathroom, and an obnoxiously horny gent named Dickie who had a sweet tooth for Anglo women. He asked about the marital status of all the girls in our group and Heather had me link arms and claim boyfriendhood to parry his lascivious scrabbling.

Next we went to City Hunter Pub, and made a run across the street to a place Russel claimed made badass chicken wraps. Russel didn't lie. One of the chaps behind the counter called me "bin laden" as did two people at Park Bar, so I'm now 5 Saddam/Osama comments away from losing the beard. "That's not nice," I told him. "I'm not calling you 'Zoolander' over here." His hair was spot-on and I started shooting looks like "Magnum" and "Le Tigre" at him.

Upstairs in the City Hunter, it was dim and warm and relaxing. I felt like I could pass out at any second but couldn't. It was torture. Also, Mike had stretched out at the only place available and mockingly napped in front of me. I was extremely tired and grumpy. I waited outside for the group to leave and Peter came out and started talking to me. I was in hell. I didn't have the patience to even stand upright and this guy wanted to make chitchat. I wanted to bite his forehead.

At last, everyone made it outside. Rhys, Jeni and Mike cabbed it back to Haimen, Erin and Matt cabbed it to the dorm, Heather and I walked in search of a hotel. We could have cabbed it back, but we wanted to hit the fuck-off supermarket the next day, get some cheese and such.

We negotiated with the clerk lady but she was playing hardball, wouldn't give us a discount, despite the late hour. There was only one room left and she almost started to give it to a couple that came in after us. Heather put a stop to that business, and soon we found oursleves in a suite with the most comfortable beds since Rongjiang. In short time I plummeted into unconsciousness.