The Umpteenth Journal Attempt (Version III)

So let’s say you get a number of text messages from several of your friends, each one basically ridiculing you for various reasons. Likely in jest, but malicious intent is also there to a certain degree. What do you do?

In my case, I’m still wondering what to do. For some reason, those recent barbs have got under my skin more than usual, whereas I’d normally shrug them off or fire back with equal venom. But that hasn’t happened. I seem to have lost my sense of humour and tolerance.

Perhaps it was just a matter of circumstances, where my peace and quiet was suddenly disturbed by said annoyances. Unprovoked, to boot. You end up wondering what you’ve done to deserve such insults, and after giving it some thought, you conclude that those people are just being idiotic and petty.

So what to do with the idiotic and petty? Ignore them like the useless peons they are until they learn how to behave in a civil manner, i.e. don’t slag me off if I don’t slag you off. Am I being a wuss? I don’t care - I’m ignoring you.

Bangkok was…interesting.

This was just over a week ago, I’ve only got around to writing about it because, well, I had more important things to do than tell you how it went. And it went alright, actually. Not sure I’ll be going there anytime soon on my own accord, because to be honest, the language barrier is too much of a chore if one wants to just enjoy themselves. But I wasn’t there for pleasure, I was there for work. And the great part about travelling for work is when the accomodations are all handled, especially if you get to stay at a swanky place like the Millennium Hilton. Sometimes I’m just too spoilt.

This was also the official hotel for the MTV Asia Awards 2006 which I was there to attend, so you could wander around the lobby and bump into someone you’d seen from some music video. Of course, my lack of knowledge and interest in Asian pop meant that I hadn’t a clue who most of these people were, but there were a couple of familiar faces. Like, uh, the dude who plays guitar in Hoobastank, or that guy from Korn.

But the point of going somewhere new is soaking in as much culture as possible, or so they tell me. So that’s what me and a small entourage of Indonesians also there for the event did. Off we went to Suan Lum night market on Friday evening for the obligatory browse and a bite, and when we were in need of more shopping options, we decided to head for Patpong. And we decided to go by tuk-tuk, like a larger, souped-up and cleaner version of a bajaj. We approached the nearest one in haggle mode, but as it turned out, we had to haggle more than we expected.

Just as we tell the guy that we want to go to Patpong market, he whips out a pink, laminated menu with curious items such as "Pussy Show," "Pussy Smoke Cigarette," "Pussy Open Bottle," "Pussy Ping-Pong Ball Show"…well, you get the idea. This wasn’t exactly the type of Thai culture we were looking for, so we insisted on just taking us to the market. He, in turn, practically demanded that he take us to check out the vagina fest, saying something along the lines of "Market long time! Pussy short time!" or something like that. We got out of his clutches and found a tuk-tuk driver who didn’t act like a twat sideshow salesman.

To be honest, for all I’ve heard about how debauched Bangkok is, that’s about as sleazy as it got. The way they make it sound, you’d think that there’s something lewd on every corner. I guess I just wasn’t looking in the right places, or just wasn’t looking properly.

The next day we went out in the afternoon, an ideal time to get a better idea of what the city’s like. After recently going to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, I can say that even Bangkok’s more advanced and organised than Jakarta. They’ve got their MRTs working, their buses don’t look like rusty hunks of crap. If you’re looking for something that’s as bad or worse than Jakarta, then I’d say it’s the driving. When I left for the airport, my taxi driver kept his cab in second gear, so for the duration of the 45-minute drive from the hotel, the vehicle lurched along the way, causing some serious queasiness. And they barely speak any English, so communication’s a bugger. I had to carry around the hotel’s card - with the name and address in English and Thai - everywhere, so as to be sure they wouldn’t mess up. Well, guess what? They messed up.

Later that evening was the MTV Asia Awards at this big shopping centre called Siam Paragon. I can’t remember much, apart from a lot of screaming, loud sound systems and seizure-inducing lighting. I didn’t make it to the after-party either, though I heard some very interesting tales of drunken shenanigans involving Indonesia’s own Aming Sugandhi and a member of Korn’s crew. They must’ve thought he was a local drag queen whom the organisers had hired for entertainment, and I can’t say I blame them.

Last year Liverpool made it to the Champions League final, perhaps unexpectedly considering their rather shoddy domestic league form. But after getting that far, you’d expect them to go all the way, even if they were up against the mighty AC Milan. Of course, going 3-0 down at half-time rather put a damper on things. And then, in what will go down as one of the greatest football comebacks of all-time, they pulled back the score to 3-3 in six minutes, and managed to hang on to penalties, which they won. The cafe where I watched the game with lots of fellow Liverpool fans, after feeling like a mausoleum at half-time, became deafeningly at the end. I had never hugged so many sweaty strangers in my life, and I never thought I’d ever have reason to.

Last night, it happened again.

This time, Liverpool were in the FA Cup final. Not as big as the Champions, by any means, but it’s still the oldest club competition in the world. And any way you look at it, it’s nice to have another piece of silverware in the trophy cabinet. Unlike last year, they were the firm favourites against West Ham, who’d just been promoted to the top flight and had a season exceeding all expectations. Given that Liverpool had stuffed them twice in the league, I’m sure everyone was expecting they’d win comfortably.

But no, they had to go two goals down within 28 minutes, through a Jamie Carragher own goal and a Dean Ashton tap-in after Jose Reina had fumbled the ball. Liverpool had a Peter Crouch goal wrongly disallowed for offside, but managed to pull one back through Djibril Cisse shortly after in the 31st minute, and then equalise via the super-fantastic Steven Gerrard on the 54th. You’d think by that point they’d be able to gain momentum and carry on for the win.

But no, West Ham scored through an absolute fluke, as a cross from the wing by Paul Konchesky suddenly ended up in the net on the 63rd. As the game wore on, it seemed like we were in for one of the biggest FA Cup final upsets in recent memory, especially as Liverpool’s players were starting to cramp up and no clear chance was in sight. It felt like it was all over as the 90 minutes were up and the fourth official informed everyone watching that there’d be four minutes of stoppage time.

And then, inevitably, the cramped Steven Gerrard volleys the ball home from 35 yards. Again with the hugging of sweaty strangers at the cafe I was in. The score remained the same for the duration of extra time, and then on to penalties, which no one really wanted but seemed like that’s the way the universe had it planned. Liverpool won that, with Reina doing what Jerzy Dudek did last year at Istanbul and saved most of the opposing team’s penalties.

Cue more hugging of sweaty strangers, followed by an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. Winning a cup final once this way is more than enough for one lifetime, but they just had to do it again. Not good for my health, that’s for sure. I really wouldn’t mind if they went for a boring 1-0 win once in a while. But then, that’s not much fun, is it?