Advertisement
Published: August 2nd 2006
Edit Blog Post
Enda's been in charge of the blogs of late and I'll get them copied across eventually but before I send you on the link and the pictures I want to give my version of events the other night. I think you might like this wee story...
It's two days ago. We're in Shanghai and hadn't really hit it off with the place. In fact, I think the phrase 'polluted ratpit' may have been mentioned on more than one occassion. We couldn't wait to get out. Our days consisted mostly of reading in bed until forced to venture out for the latest of our 3 square meals a day. So we're planning our speedy departure over brekkie when Enda picks up the local entertainment listings magazine. Ferfuxake he says, you'll never guess who's in town tomorrow night... Westlife. You can imagine the looks on the faces of the 2 other lads we're travelling with. An 'in' joke where they were 'out'. Surely? But most of you know us well enough to realise that there is not a Holly Valance that Westlife were having their first ever Chinese concert on the same night as we were in Shanghai and we wouldn't be
there. So the lads took their leave as planned wondering who the hell were the weirdos that they've been travelling with for the past few months. We got ourselves organised. Tickets, check. Irish jersey, check. Tricolour, check. Jeez, we were practically on the lash with them already.
The concert itself was as you would imagine. Screaming teenage Chinese kids with glowsticks and some screaming Scottish people with glowsticks. Well... some. But with 20,000 in the place and the lads fully concentrated on their efforts to revamp Uptown Girl into big band style, it wasn't going to be as easy as we thought. We hadn't come this far though to give up at this stage so we hung about at the end as those guys that roll up wires were doing their thing thinking of how to execute the next move from our vantage point of the balcony. Whatever the next move was gonna be. Anyway, we made our way to the front and I shouted to this Irish looking guy (well he wasn't Chinese) if he knew where the lads were watching the English match that night. He said they were having a feed in the hotel across the
road but wasn't sure after that. Ha, a lead. So across we dawdle, us and 2000 Chinese autograph and cuddle hunters and we use our lack of slanty eyes to get as far as the lobby bar. No sign of the lads just yet. Now we've a long night ahead of us so the idea of paying 7 euros a pint in the hope that they might turn up, and they might have loads of gorgeous groupies and they might let us talk to them was not as appealing as it might seem so off we went snooping, as excited as any one of the little lasses with their noses squashed up against the glass window of the hotel outside. However, after a few trips up and down the dark passages of the fire escape like a couple of catburglars it appears this time our luck was out and we resigned ourselves to a night drinking slightly cheaper beer in a pop-star-free venue.
But in the lift down, the appearance of one of those big burly baldy blokes like the dude from Jerry Springer had our hopes up. Watching the game tonight I asked. (MB - Sorry about the
lack of punctuation here, disgraceful.) Yeah mate was the reply, you know anywhere good? Course we did. Gave him the tip for O'Malleys and thought that maybe it would be worth hanging around for one of those pricy pints. Sure enough down came the lads and in burst the girls. This was too good a chance to miss. I stepped up like I'd been in the job since the end of 4th year and started pushing back little screeching Chinese girls. I could hear their hearts break as I did it. The lads themselves ('the lads', what are they my best mates?) didn't see this but the Scottish and Irish jerseys had us noticed. And talk about 2 burds with 1 stone? As I shooed another two girls out the hotel I shouted to Enda to get his skates on and amid the pandemonium we scrambled into a taxi and headed for O'Malleys. I'm sure 'the lads' are used to paying that price for drink. I hope they didn't mind.
Now, this might sound a tad rich but we didn't want to come across as some wacky gay stalkers so we watched the 1st half of the game downstairs
with the plebs. Half time gave us our chance though and with a boak-inducing 'we're with the band' we got ourselves into the cordoned off upstairs area with the only other Ecuador supporters in the place. They were all great craic and wouldn't let us buy a drink all night. We spoke about music - good and bad -, Brian, their ridiculous stage gear, Shanghai, GAA, Sven, Graham Poll, Girls Aloud, the Tioseoch, Gift Grub - the whole shebang - but wait til you get this... they slaughtered us for actually going to their gig! They're didn't exactly pull out their pockets with a refund but we were guests of Sony for the rest of the night. The final irony was after almost tsk-tsking all night when 'groupies' (we're their mates, remember?) approached for pictures, we had to put our tail between our legs and ask for a few of our own at the end. It would've been rude not to. And you would've never believed me otherwise...
So mission for the night accomplished. Maybe Shanghai wasn't that bad after all...wotcha think?
Advertisement
Tot: 0.105s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 10; qc: 61; dbt: 0.0552s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb