Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Johor Bahru, Part Two

And no, there is no freakin difference between Bahru and Bharu, and if you wanna quote some Google search on me, eat me. Forget the fact that KL girls don't really talk to you in clubs if you're not buying the drinks, or the fact that they come in packs, and hardly ever make the initiative to talk to strangers. In JB, everyone's fair game, and I swear, any man from KL will love it here. Girls willingly open up to you and chat you up. It doesn't matter if you're wearing short pants or are the ugliest man alive, chicks will entertain you for some strange reason. Me and my colleagues, including my boss, decided to have a taste of a night out in JB. Fuk me. A few girls we met told us of this totally bitchin place called Stephanie, which is by far the most happening disco in all of JB. Honestly, who in their right mind names their club 'Stephanie'? Regardless, we hopped over to the place, and yes, we were swamped by chicks. In all honesty, the music was pretty kickass, with plenty of Tiesto to keep me interested. The problem started 15 minutes later. While the music was still blaring, I noticed one girl climbed onto the podium where the DJ was spinning. Other than the fact that she was pretty hot, she apparently was looking for something on the stage, flipping over stuff and generally looking lost. I just assumed that this is JB's idea of podium dancers, when a guy promptly joined her on stage. Great, now there's two idiots on the stage, doing absolutely nothing but standing still on the edge of the podium and staring blankly into the crowd. Then the worst possible thing happened: these two fuckers each picked up a guitar. OMFG. I didn't think something like this was possible. 10 minutes later, the music died, and the lights came on. The idiots started playing. A live band. WTF. In a trance club. And it's a Mandarin love song, for Christ sake. Safe to say, we didn't stay for them to finish the second song. Next day, I decided to hit this supposedly raunchy R & B joint, with the equally edgy name of New York Club. I'm gonna cut the story short here, since there isn't really anything worth talking about NY Club, apart from our friend's host who thought it was humorous to fling around a wooden penis at people's faces and repeatedly shoving the object into his crotch, and of course, meeting with the Tengku Mahkota, the son of the Sultan of Johor. If I'm only allowed one word to describe the Tengku Mahkota, it would be 'large'. Yes, he's one big motherfuker. Later on, my boss decided to take us on a joyride around JB, and subsequently, the Tengku Mahkota's house. I'm sure most of you know the stretch of Jln Bukit Bintang. Now, keep that distance in mind. We started at the end of the road, and we saw the walls of the TM's house. We drove on for the next minute or so, and the wall never ended. Believe me when I tell you, that is one hell of a big house, or land area anyway. We reached the end of the road itself, and finally, the wall ended with it. Holy shit. He could practically open Taylor's College in his own damn backyard. For the most part, JB was a pleasant experience, other than the hideously deformed art of clubbing there, and I even got the number of a 16 year old girl, whom we promptly became close. I told you girls there were friendly.


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