Like
everywhere else in the world, drink and dance are also appreciated by
the Chinese. They have good beer (thanks to the Germans), so-so wine,
and horrible liquors. And if you're going for a night on the town with
the Chinese, you'd better be prepared to drink any and all; they don't
have a brake pedal.
The
Chinese do not go to just any street corner pub that has a tap and a
jukebox (mostly because these places do not exist), they go to
fashionable clubs. Just who spreads the word about which places are "the
place to go" is happening beyond my perception. But someone does know,
because after going to one club two weeks in a row, the word spreads
that another club is the place to be. So we go and find the same people,
leaving me to wonder if the previous club is now empty or filled with
other people who thought they were doing the cool thing.
When the Chinese buy alcohol, they do not buy individual drinks or rounds. They
buy whole bottles of whiskey and cases of beer at a time, the latter
all being opened at once before being placed on the table. (After a
while you simply grab a beer and don't worry about whose it is or if
it's "fresh".) They do not buy them in such quantities to savor. No,
it's so you can get sloppy drunk enough to flatter the bar owner into
giving you roast duck head for free.
If
the spirit moves them, the Chinese will dance. It is not pretty,
looking something like a half-hearted twist with a touch of running man.
They are aware of the beat and dance to it, but don't have that wild
and crazy attitude Taylor, aged 19 from Reno has with her pink tank top,
glitter lipstick, thong, and spare tire of fat hanging out of her jeans
has, hands over her head in a war whoop all night long. However,
the techno version of John Denver's "Country Roads" or the Miami Vice
theme may inspire some of the Chinese to leap onto speakers and perform a
more active version of the twist. I swear I've never had so much fun
stepping out on the dance floor with a bunch of Chinese people, half in
the bag, all gettin' down to "Sex Bomb" by Tom Jones. The craziness of
it all!!
After
the club, however, the night is only half over. It's time for eating -
and yes, more drinking. You, your cronies, and whoever else has joined
your crew (it's easy to acquire new cronies in China) pile ten deep into
the only car between the lot and participate in a little drunk driving.
As the Chinese are crazy drivers anyway, the years of practice ensure
no one gets hurt. In the restaurant, it's time for more calls of
"Ganbei!", which is their equivalent of "Cheers!", but with an added
feature: ordinarily when people say "Ganbei!" they touch glasses and
take a drink - as we would. But when drunk, the Chinese use the official definition, which means you must finish what's in you glass. This formula works out to a primitive kind of social Darwinism. Those who can handle their alcohol goad the weaker into drinking. The weaker try to refuse at first, knowing what lies ahead. But,
facing challenges to their “face”, they eventually give in, and often
with disastrous results. (Warning, those with sensitive stomachs should
cover their ears for the next ten seconds.) A couple weeks ago, a young
man beside me was goaded many a 'Ganbei!', protesting all the way. After
one particular queasy looking swallow, he proceeded to reveal the
contents of his stomach using our table as a display board. People laughed, waitresses grimaced, but he "saved face", right?
Oh,
that pesky Chinese pride... It gets them in trouble all the time.
Nothing like Westerners, no, no, no… But that's the subject of another
culture corner.
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