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Published: July 22nd 2012
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We left the bar and got into “the magic machine” (also known as the lift to the sober people present). Girl A asked why we were leaving and we told her it wouldn’t be particularly dignified to throw up in the Ritz Carlton. One of the boys had helped us taking A to the entrance and was insistent that we sit on the steps in front of the hotel to let her get some fresh air – NO.“One does not simply pass out on the front steps of the Ritz Carlton.”
Getting into the cab, I said our Hong Kong address in my best Cantonese and the driver set off, knowing full well that we would probably never make it to our destination. Girl A was talking gibberish in the backseat and kept repeating how she was “very serious.” At least if we kept her talking (however annoying) we’d be less likely to have to deal with the consequences of her throwing up in the taxi and being chucked out in the middle of a relatively unknown city.
We were wrong. Girl A suddenly went very quiet and said she felt “very poorly”, this created a slight panic on mine and Sarah’s part, after failing to find a plastic bag (the 50 cent charge makes them a rarity here), Sarah told girl A to throw up in her skirt (classy, fortunately she didn’t have to resort to this.) Winding down the window seemed like a good idea but typically girl A was sat by the window that didn’t wind down meaning that Sarah and A had to swap seats while the taxi was moving (the Cantonese murmurings from the taxi driver did not seem too impressed by this and he was even less impressed when he had to drive through the tollbooth with girl A’s head hanging semiconsciously out the window.)
Clueless as to where we were but deciding it was easier to get out than be thrown out, we asked the driver to stop at the nearest MTR station (mass transit railway for those of you who don’t speak the lingo). Before we could board the train we decided some kind of defence was required so I went into the 7- eleven and tried to convince them that a plastic bag was definitely essential for the cheap mini bottle of water I had just purchased.
After what felt like an age of being disapprovingly starred at by the local hong kongers (?)/ hong kongnese (?), we began to navigate the steps down to the MTR. Girl A said that she wasn’t getting on the MTR because “it was too scary” and even had the cheek to slur, “Abi, you know you have that thing with peanuts? For me the MTR is like that, I can’t got near it or I might die.” Hilarious.
At the barrier’s, girl A’s octopus card wasn’t working. Since Sarah had already passed through the turnstile I was going to take the card to customer services so we could all get on the train (safely and legally) and have a much-needed sleep. I had barely turned my back for thirty seconds when I heard Sarah saying “NO, you don’t do that.” I turned round to find girl A clambering over the turnstile. Unfortunately we weren’t the only ones to have witnessed this; a chinese woman started pointing in our direction and shouting something in Cantonese, I haven’t a clue what she was saying but it was enough to cause everyone around to stare in our direction and also start pointing and shouting. Knowing that we had done nothing wrong, Sarah and I stood frozen and embarrassed, when Sarah muttered to me “what should we do?” The only thing I could think of was, “RUN!’ So we ran down the steps (in heels) dragging girl A with us and trying to escape from the crazy Cantonese lady. We rushed onto the train and told six foot A to put her head down (fortunately she complied for the first time in the trip).
After what felt like one of the longest five minutes of my life, the packed train finally left. It was quite interesting to see the reaction of the Hong Kongers to this Caucasian passed out on the train; the older HKrs were tutting and looking disapprovingly whereas those who appeared a similar age to ourselves were sniggering and trying to hide a smile, this sort of behaviour just doesn’t happen in their culture, we were really giving the Brits a good name!
Trying to get girl A off the train proved challenging to say the least, at one point I seriously thought we were going to end up having to stay on the train until the end of the line. Passing the station before Kowloon Tong, we decided to try and get A to stand up, she refused saying, “I’m not getting on the MTR, it’s too scary, scary like peanut.” One kind HKr offered to help but Sarah and I managed to lift girl A and get her off the train to the sound of sniggers from the Chinese. Now we faced our next challenge, getting out the station. Girl A was never registered as being in there in the first place so scanning out wasn’t going to work and we would be busted. Quick thinking Sarah scanned her card over the luggage gate and dragged C with her. After managing to get A back up the steps, we got into a taxi for the final leg of our journey. Girl A drunkenly insisted on paying for the taxi (she definitely owed us at least that much) and the lovely taxi driver offered to help us at the other end but we managed without him. We finally got into the building and I’m not even going to start on the idiot security guards or the state of A’s room. Girl A told me yesterday that one of her class had described her as kind and gentle, personally I think drunk and disorderly would have been more appropriate.
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An understanding friend
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Classic Girl A.