My birthday…not yours!
Okay, so it’s not really my birthday anymore. Maybe somewhere near the international dateline, but at least nowhere near this computer.
It was anything and everything I could ask for in a birthday. I slept in. I ate. I went for a surf. I sat around and took a crap. I watched a little t.v. I read a chapter or two. And I went to a hostess bar.
A hostess bar?
Yeah, a hostess bar. And let me tell you, classic moments don’t come in prettier packages.
So a little background for those of you that didn’t grow up in urban Asia (me included). A hostess bar, apparently from my gathering, is a bar where business men come to meet. It’s also a place where attractive single girls come to meet business men who came to meet business men. In plain English, it’s a ball grabbing good time.
So, I get a call from an uncle of mine asking if I want to come out to Honolulu for dinner. Of course I do…and the drinking begins. So after dinner, my uncle’s friend invites us out to meet with some of his friends at a hostess bar. And we do.
And we order a few beers. And a few more. Then a couple after that.
Then we get the walk by. I think you know what I’m talking about. It’s that guy or girl that walks by sporting the evil eye. The first couple of times you think it’s only coincidence. Then by the fifth or sixth time, you realize that every time you look back, you’re only signaling that you’d love to have a hostess come and keep you company.
Did I say attractive single girls? I swear she was somehow related to me.
Of course, my uncle and his friends had to point out that it was my birthday. And that was it. In mere moments, she was in full-grope force. And my poor nuts.
Founder of Coors Light