Chili Vodkas and Columbian Druglords - Part 1

When I woke up - everything was white. It was exactly like a 1970s British horror flick starring Christopher Lee, minus the fangs.

I realized I could not think very straight. First thoughts that entered my mind were: Have my true alien parents finally come to bring me back? Did they beam up my CDs and guitars as well?

From the corner of my eye I could see digital numbers flashing, small graphs being formed on mini LCDs and funny looking tubes attached to me.

I wasn't that dumb. So I knew I was in some hospital but which one was this?

(cue: slow dissolve/flashback music)

So there I was in this new and latest club in the Valley. It was slightly posh and pretentious - the sort where university students try and pretend to be real working adults.

Everyone was wearing expensive looking coats and furry looking things. It was winter after all. This is what a P. Diddy get together must look like.

God knows, in my varsity days, i was a straight up flannel and cheap beer sort of a guy. Rowdy Irish pubs over chi chi fashionista establishments any day fo sho.

The reason I was at this 'chi chi' locale?

My two good friends wanted me to meet this chick who was leaving the country. It was her last day there and well, it was a bit of a bash for her.

She wasn't like a stunner or anything but I was totally fascinated with her. She was working in the pharmacology industry and we were talking about how evil the industry is and how they make up weird diseases and fake medications to drum up profits.

We were all getting pretty liquored up and someone goes: "let's get some Chili Vodkas."

Chili Vodkas = huge glass full of exotic freshly cut chilies and a shite load of Vodka. Now those of you who know me week, will know that I don't react well to Vodka.

But it was ok... surprisingly all of us were still pretty civil and it was going pretty alright.

By now the vodka was telling me to make the next move.

But nature called first so there I was at the restroom of this chi chi place which by the way doesn't exist anymore - and washing my hands at the sink when this crazy haired South American looking pimp daddy says hi.

I say, " Eh Pedro - how's it hangin homes?"

He laughs and says, " ya alright kid, ya alright"

I figure out the dude is from Columbia and I've never met anyone from Columbia before so I get excited.

" Is you a drug lord?'

" Haha.. no way amigo.. I'm student at ****** studying Business."

" You know Valderama? The crazy Columbian goalkeeper from the 80s and 90s?"

" Hey - you from Singapore and you know Valderama? You are cool man! come have a drink with me."

Football unites the world.

So we saunter out ( me pretending I was in a big 'Blow' sort of a movie with the Latino version of De Niro) and I am really pleased to see the dude hanging with some fine human specimen. I mean, they all looked like Columbian super models.

My friends and the Pharama-Chick were just about ten meters away and I waved at them and did funny hand signs to show em' I'll be joining em'a bit later.

So the Columbian guy introduces me and says - "Here have a Chili Vodka".

By this time, I'm pretty fucked up already from about 8 hours of drinking. We start at home usually before we go out. Smart move usually.

So, I take the Chili Vodka from him but there's something wrong. It looks real bright. Almost yellow. But hey, I was totally fucked so i shot down the whole thing and i could feel Satan's wagon of fire speeding down my throat while stabbing the sides of my neck-flesh with rusty blunt knifes.

It was THAT awesome.

So I had three more of those the Columbian dude offered me.

After a while, my friends and the Pharma-Chick come over. At this point, Columbian dude and friends leave for another club.

At this point I was totally gone and if I could cut a quick 30 sec vignette of what happened it would be something like this.

(Me telling Pharma-Girl I love her even though she has no ethics whatsoever)

(Parma Girl walks off after giving me fake phone number and fake email address in slow motion)

( I look at my watch. It's 5am)

( I am standing outside police station)

( A fight breaks out between a two groups. I'm in-between them)

( I get punched in the eye)

( I find myself on the floor inside the police station pinned down with brutal force)

*End flashback now. Slow Dissolve.

So now I find myself in the hospital. I feel my hands and legs. This is good. I don't think I broke anything. I was breathing properly too and my heart rate seemed OK.

I pulled out this tube attached to my nose and some electrodes stuck to my body.

My shirt was just beside the bed on a chair.

Around me were very white curtains.

I drew them open and I see a door - so I start walking out.

I' m all headache and pain but that's understandable.

I walk out wishing I had another beer now to take the edge away.

When I stumble out - the place looks very confusing. I can't find the exit at all.

I walk some more. There's hardly anyone around and I finally see the exit.

I go closer and I think this must be a joke. A sign there read:

"Welcome To ******** ************ Mental Health Emergency Department."

I'm going to skip some of the other stuff that happened here as it's rather disturbing but basically the cops thought I was mental and sent me here and the doctor on duty was a total moron.

She could not see the difference between someone being drunk as a skunk and someone who's lost his marbles.

I spent 3 days in that stupid mental ward trying to tell people I was not crazy.

It took these experts 3 days to figure out I was 'normal'

No doubt when I went back to Uni with the relevant paper work which certified that I was sane to be in the country, I was some sort of a hero.

In my next posting, I'll fill you in on what it was like for me being in an overseas mental ward full of loonies.

One of them thought he was the real Silm Shady and kept asking me where my bitches at.

Somebody pass me my Chili Vodka please?