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As I reached Staunton Street, filled with impotent rage and envy of the commuters travelling effortlessly down the hill, while I walked up on wobbly, weakened legs, I saw a woman walking down the street towards me. She was fairly typical for somebody working in Central; smart, tiny dress on a smart, tiny body, but she was clutching an enormmous can of Monster energy drink.
Red Bull I could have understood - a burst of stimulation for somebody who hasn't the time to drink coffee. But Monster, which spend their marketing money on sponsoring beefy men hurting themselves with motorcycles? It didn't seem the sort of thing that somebody who was walking to the office for a day of work would identify with. Was she going to transform into a heavy metal orc, making devil signs with her hands as she rocked out at her desk?
Sure, for that sort of thing you would need a blend of caffeine, guarana, high fructose cane syrup and trace amounts of Special Mystery Ingredients, but a whole can? That must have been about a pint of the stuff.
I suppose it could count as breakfast, if you were going to have an Extreme Day and do some super-radical typing, but I'm sure that an espresso and half a croissant is more appropriate.
This is Hong Kong though. You might say the appropriate way to start the day is with tea and some dim sum. But actually you'd be wrong; the appropriate thing to do in Hong Kong is to ignore all local customs unless they're convenient, and do whatever you feel like. So a can of Monster for breakfast is as appropriate as anything else.
So much to think about, from the sight of one beverage. I wonder if anyone has been spurred to contemplation by seeing a man with a beard that drips sweat, walking up a hill wearing a vest and some skimpy shorts.
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