What I Did
I sat on an airplane. I do that a lot. I was in sector 30, compartment 'B'. I was sandwich meat. And when sitting on an airplane as sandwich meat I never know where to look. I usually look up at the ceiling and imagine I'm in a space capsule going to some distant planet... like earth. But in this case I was on my way to Kuching, Sarawak with my wife, daughter, and sister-in-law to see musicians from distant planets. There were many people in this ship heading to Kuching for the same reason... but I don't think they saw what I saw. I have no focus. I see things that want me to see them... things that whisper to me, 'psst, look at me... ever see one like this before?'. Things whisper to me often. Sometimes I don't listen. For instance... there was a 'kitty' picture on the seat back in front of me. It kept saying, 'look... I'm sad. I have no mother'. It annoyed me so I ripped out a page from the in-flight magazine and covered it.
We landed in Kuching and checked into our hotel. It was raining, but it was a bearable rain... the kind that doesn't get you really wet but ensures you're not really dry. We were hungry. It was dinner time. And we needed to book a bus ride to the concert venue. There were things to do.
I've been to Kuching several times. I had a project here last year so kind of knew my way around. I knew that not far from the hotel was a parking garage. And I knew that on top of this parking garage there were people cooking food... mainly seafood. I'm not sure why this particular parking garage attracted seafood cookers, and I didn't question the reason why now. We needed to eat. We needed nourishment... substance that the beer particles later ingested could cling on to.
Once outside, I tried to get my bearings... I couldn't... but with the help of a hotel security guard and a bit of luck, I managed to get my built in gps working... it was fairly easy after that... a dash across the road, over a drain, a quick walk in an alley, down a staircase, and into the carpark and up the carpark staircase. Seafood paradise awaited us.
I've been to Kuching several times. I had a project here last year so kind of knew my way around. I knew that not far from the hotel was a parking garage. And I knew that on top of this parking garage there were people cooking food... mainly seafood. I'm not sure why this particular parking garage attracted seafood cookers, and I didn't question the reason why now. We needed to eat. We needed nourishment... substance that the beer particles later ingested could cling on to.
Once outside, I tried to get my bearings... I couldn't... but with the help of a hotel security guard and a bit of luck, I managed to get my built in gps working... it was fairly easy after that... a dash across the road, over a drain, a quick walk in an alley, down a staircase, and into the carpark and up the carpark staircase. Seafood paradise awaited us.
Down the Up Staircase
I covered this kitty with the in-flight magazine
Seafood Paradise... Garage Roof Style
So let me speed things along if you don't mind... We ate. We scuttled our butts back to the hotel but found we scuttled too fast and still had 30 minutes to kill. So we entered a shopping mall that was so new nothing much was opened. It had shiny floors. Shiny things attract me. So I was attracted to the floor. We rode up and down the escalator posing. We made faces. Well I didn't. I tried my best to look normal. And then my watch said, 'hey... get to the bus already'... so we did.
We arrived at the concert grounds around 9:00pm. Listened to some sisters from Bulgaria try their best to get the crowd rowdy. Didn't work. Then the Russian group Reelroad'b hit the main stage and all hell broke loose... well not really. There were no demons or fire or brimstone. There was rain and mud and plenty of drunks... and I found a cute long slug that had a head like an arrow. I picked it up and put it in the vegetation. I don't like foot path kill.
After the Russians a folk band from some isolated mountain country hit the small stage and hell closed its doors and we headed to the bus waiting area for a ride back to the hotel. It was a long day... and it was nice to end it with a group of musicians from St Petersburg who knew how to make music and knew how to make people dance and knew how to make women remove clothing pieces...
The next day was spent eating, shopping (the women, not me... I just sat on a chair and looked like an old man) and eating. I had contacts in Kuching... good contacts... and was able to get us into a restaurant that usually you can't get into. And they gave me a new last name. For that I am grateful. I like my new last name. It's easier for people to pronounce. We ate. Drank a few beers. Skipped over a dead scorpion. And hopped on the bus back to the jungle.
No rain on Saturday night. No more grass either. Pure mud. Ankle deep mud. Earthy. It squished between your toes. It made you slip and slide. I made everyone dirty. And when Braagas, a small group from the Czech Republic left the 'tree' stage and Leila Negrau hit the main stage, the mud made everyone hop and slip and slide... and more clothes came off. Leila opened the set wearing a loose fitting dress that her body refused to hide beneath. She sat on a stool. Spread her legs around a drum and played that instrument between her legs until... and we all danced and shouted and squished and slipped. It was a jungle orgy... mud wrestling jungle orgy of thousands. And when she left the main stage and 4 Italians started strumming acoustics, the orgasm that was promised fell limp.
We headed back to the bus. To the hotel. To bed. Only to wake up. Eat breakfast. Take a taxi to the airport. Fly back to Kuala Lumpur. Go grocery shopping. Guitar lessons. Ladies dinner night out. I cracked open a book... and now... here I am. Trying to remember on a Monday. And suddenly remembering I have work and meetings... but I still smell the earthy fragrance of mud and hear the Russians working us into a frenzy.
We arrived at the concert grounds around 9:00pm. Listened to some sisters from Bulgaria try their best to get the crowd rowdy. Didn't work. Then the Russian group Reelroad'b hit the main stage and all hell broke loose... well not really. There were no demons or fire or brimstone. There was rain and mud and plenty of drunks... and I found a cute long slug that had a head like an arrow. I picked it up and put it in the vegetation. I don't like foot path kill.
After the Russians a folk band from some isolated mountain country hit the small stage and hell closed its doors and we headed to the bus waiting area for a ride back to the hotel. It was a long day... and it was nice to end it with a group of musicians from St Petersburg who knew how to make music and knew how to make people dance and knew how to make women remove clothing pieces...
The next day was spent eating, shopping (the women, not me... I just sat on a chair and looked like an old man) and eating. I had contacts in Kuching... good contacts... and was able to get us into a restaurant that usually you can't get into. And they gave me a new last name. For that I am grateful. I like my new last name. It's easier for people to pronounce. We ate. Drank a few beers. Skipped over a dead scorpion. And hopped on the bus back to the jungle.
No rain on Saturday night. No more grass either. Pure mud. Ankle deep mud. Earthy. It squished between your toes. It made you slip and slide. I made everyone dirty. And when Braagas, a small group from the Czech Republic left the 'tree' stage and Leila Negrau hit the main stage, the mud made everyone hop and slip and slide... and more clothes came off. Leila opened the set wearing a loose fitting dress that her body refused to hide beneath. She sat on a stool. Spread her legs around a drum and played that instrument between her legs until... and we all danced and shouted and squished and slipped. It was a jungle orgy... mud wrestling jungle orgy of thousands. And when she left the main stage and 4 Italians started strumming acoustics, the orgasm that was promised fell limp.
We headed back to the bus. To the hotel. To bed. Only to wake up. Eat breakfast. Take a taxi to the airport. Fly back to Kuala Lumpur. Go grocery shopping. Guitar lessons. Ladies dinner night out. I cracked open a book... and now... here I am. Trying to remember on a Monday. And suddenly remembering I have work and meetings... but I still smell the earthy fragrance of mud and hear the Russians working us into a frenzy.
