No Matter How Much You Plan, Things Just Happen – Part 1

I’m not good at spontaneity.  As a matter of fact, I planned how I was going to use the word “spontaneity”  well in advance of writing this essay.  I freak-out if things are left to the last minute, abhor places that won’t take a reservation, and like lines and crowds to part like the Red Sea upon my arrival.  I’m lucky – it’s always worked-out like that for me; like that time I ditched class at Hollywood High, and was sipping a Coke at the counter of the Top Hat Malt Shop, when I was “discovered” by Billy Wilkerson.  Good times…  Oh wait.  That wasn’t me.  That was Lana Turner.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, spontaneity.   

After the one-two misfire that was the China Club and Propaganda, I was determined to show Jacob a Saturday night that was hip and fun; so, I decided to take matters into my own hand, and had a very intense chat with the Concierge at the W Hong Kong.  It would be nice to say that I was hung-over, but perhaps more appropriate to say that I was still intoxicated.  Regardless, she was delightful; and despite my making a spectacle of myself (laughing and gesticulating, this way and that, as I am wont to do) we put together a rather wonderful itinerary that included a restaurant (Soho Spice), a nightclub (Dragon I), a back-up nighclub (Tazmania Ballroom) and a pair of gay bars (Kolours and Club  97).  This brings me to one of my favorite things about Hong Kong (although it might be unique to the W): the Taxi Cards given to us by the Concierge – roughly the size of coasters in heavy card stock – each with the name of a venue we were visiting, as well as the neighborhood, written in both English and Chinese.  This way, we needed only to show the card to the taxi driver, and away we would go – or so one would think. 

First stop – Soho Spice on Elgin Street in the funky Soho district.  The doorman at the W waved a cab to the door, and told the driver where we were going, and we piled into the back.  Right away we should’ve known something was up, because it was like being in a Keystone Cops movie.  The guy took turns so quickly that I tumbled right off the seat before I could fasten my seatbelt.  Then, we get over to Hong Kong (the W is in Kowloon), and the driver tells us, in broken English, that he needs to see the Taxi Card.  After driving around in what I’m convinced were circles, he pulled over, got out of the cab, left Jacob and me in the back (the meter still running, mind you) and proceeded to flag-down passers-by and ask them for directions.  Then he got back in, drove us up a very steep hill, turned down a side street a bit, and then up the hill even further until he could go no further.  Then he pulled over again, and – leaving us in the back with the meter still running, again – got out and looked for people to direct him, once more.  All of a sudden, Jacob began having a panic-attack brought-on by the thought of our taxi rolling backwards into traffic, taking us to a very ugly metallic death.  I, however, found the whole situation delicious.   You see, I’ve come to look at my life thus – no matter what I do, I end-up ass-backwards and upside-down; and yet I always wind-up where I need to be.  So, especially as a writer, no matter how absurd the circumstances, if I can pull a funny anecdote out of the situation, I’m golden!  Jacob wasn’t having it, though, and just snapped (something to which I’d never borne witness). 

The driver immediately jumped to, and returned to the car.  He explained in broken English (PS –  if you’ve never heard Marianne Faithfull’s Broken English album, get into it, ASAP!) that he was a Kowloon driver and not expected to know his way around Hong Kong.  Anyhow, he thought he’d finally figured it out, and we were on our way once more.  I noticed a sign for Elgin Street, and yelled.  He turned and once again the centrifugal force nearly threw me out of the vehicle.  Finally, I spotted the sign and we screamed for him just to stop, and that we’d walk the rest of the way.  Jacob got out and told me to deal with the driver, that he just needed to get out and breathe for a minute, and that he’d see me inside the restaurant (he was really quite shaken-up).  So I look at the driver as if to say “Really?” Then he asked me how much I wanted to pay.  But then he informed me that since he had to pay the toll for the Western Harbour Crossing (the far quicker and thus more expensive tunnel under Victoria Harbour that connects Kowloon with Hong Kong Island) that he couldn’t go much below $210HK (roughly $28).  Well, I’d had it.  Highway robbery, this!  Finally, we settled on $185HK.  Then, and with much fanfare, I exited the taxi and joined Jacob inside Soho Spice where I had one of the better meals I’ve had in a long time.  But to read about that and the rest of our rather whirlwind night of misadventures, you’ll have to come back, later.  TTFN!