Friday, September 09, 2011

A night out in Hong Kong

Tonight I went to see Ruben Paul at the comedy club; tomorrow I'm hosting so I thought it would be good to see him perform. It was a bit odd to be back in the club after so long away: I think the last time I was there must have been two months ago.

The show was good, but I think a problem with having performed so much with the same people is that you start to feel disassociated from the audience: you begin to wish all the jokes could be as fresh for you as they are for the crowd. But now you're jaded and grumpy and sober. Ah well.

I feel glad I'd stowed my wife at Makumba, as part of the show consisted of a Canadian heckler being put in his place, and her proud Canuck heritage might have left her feeling riled. What's all that aboot, anyway?

I took a taxi home: I should have taken the MTR but I was feeling flush / I'd just been charged $50 for a ginger ale so a taxi ride wasn't going to make a difference. We got as far as the end of Caine Road and then we were hailed by another taxi driver, asking my driver to intercede. In the back of his cab was a very aged European couple: the wife kept nodding her head like one of those car ornaments that were popular ten years ago.1

My driver got out and went over to say something, then shouted at the other driver, came back and we began veering through traffic again as normal. I wonder what the conversation involved. Was my driver the designated interpreter for Hong Kong this evening? Why did that woman keep bobbing her head up and down? $50 for a lousy ginger ale, when they didn't even pour out the whole can?

Maybe it's an omen. Maybe I should move to a different country, or something.

1 It always feels like they were popular ten years ago, regardless of the actual date. Was there ever a time when they actually were in vogue?


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