March 20th: the revenge of Pat Benatar

Day 185

Rode back, caught up on riding, showered, rode back to Dongzhou. Got some tree dumplings with Heather, then she, Rhys and I went to the music shop. Rhys canceled his erhu lessons, I went upstairs to practice. They had switched pianos on me and this one was drony and muffled. While playing I got a brilliant idea.

For some reason I decided to find a practical use for the Icy Mint Sprite. It occured to me that one could use it as a base for mohitos, thereby eliminating the need for soda water, sugar, and mint leaves. We could mottle some strawberries, add rum and it would be on. I ran to Times and picked up some Icy Mint and some Sprite On Fire. (I wanted to test another theory.)

I played guitar on the roof and caught some rays for a bit, waiting for the soda to get cold. No clouds spoiled the sun, but the wind made the temperature plummet. Heather got back and we tested the mohito, it was a success. Then I had the not-so-brilliant-in-hindsight idea to combine Icy Mint and On Fire with rum, inventing a highball called a Pat Benatar (after her song Fire and Ice). Curious tasting. I didn't hate it, but I'm not sure if I liked it.

Mike collected us at five 'til six. Apparently some gent who was interested in learning English was treating him to dinner and he said the more foreigners the merrier. I chugged the second Pat Benatar and soon regretted it. The gent and his female assistant Ada met us at the gate, drove us to Shishan Lu, went inside a fairly upscale restaurant. We sat and my stomach was tying itself in knots. I cringed and tried and took deep breaths, eventually had to excuse myself to the bathroom.

The last time I had felt something like this was my 21st birthday. Sarah Peters took me into Uncle Woody's and ordered a couple mint juleps. It's always a bad sign when the bartender has to look something up in the rolodex to see how to make it. I drank it a little too fast, and it was too sweet and minty. I was soon flat out on my back in the booth, looking like John Hurt in Alien, wishing the pain would stop. Water and a burnt quesadilla fixed me up that time. Dilution is the solution.

I had drunk my tea and decimated half the peanuts before I left for the bathroom, so I just had to wait it out. I kept entertaining the idea of splashing cold water on my face, but then my beard would be wet. When I returned to the table, I rode out a few more minutes and then the knot untied in my guts and I was fine. The food came: bowls of mutton, chicken, duck's blood and squid feelers in spicy broth, water chestnuts and mushrooms, tomato and egg soup, and a crab. I picked at it, since the guy who brought it opened it for me, and I felt obliged. Orange meat, similar in flavor and texture to a sweet potato.

After the dinner, we went back to Dongzhou, sent a cab to collect Erin and Matt at the experimental school, got a crate of Tsingtao, watched "Team America: World Police" and laughed ourselves silly.

The phrase "Don't take any wooden nickels" ran incessantly through my dreams.