I got a call on Friday night, from contact in Jakarta, Bourgeoisie Barry who I run Tagged/DIA profiles for, asking if I fancied hanging out in Jakarta for the weekend. He would cover flights, accommodation, booze, whores, drugs (I mean medicine – like Night Nurse, Tylenol and stuff), food, and anything else. All I had to go was get to Suvarnabhumi tomorrow morning, in time for the 14:10 Garduda flight to JKT. Score
Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed, nursing the motherfucker of all hangovers, packed my skin tight tshirts, various skin lotions and my passport, skipped out of my front door (which has ladyboy high heel shoes dents in it) and into a yellow and green limousine to the airport.
On arrival I was reminded how fucking much I hate airports. The place is just full of cunts. Tourist cunts, miserable cunt families, ugly barwhore cunts waving goodbye to their cunty sexpat boyfriend, the unhelpful immigration cunts, the cunts that try to scalp you for taxis and so on. I was one of the cunts who thinks everyone else is a cunt
Nearly starved to death waiting in line for immigration. Over an hour I had to wait. Got my passport stamped, and headed to Burger King, where I was mugged for 500 baht. What a fucking swizz. How do they sleep at night? Im guessing on a bed of 500 baht notes. Thats the last time I supersize my order, and order large onion rings on the side.
The flight was pretty uneventful. Watched Be Kind Rewind and got drunk on 7 cans of Bintang. I did watch the Invention of Lying, and had a bit of a cry to the bit where Ricky Gervais’s mom dies. Rewound it and watched his mom die a bit more, cried a bit more, then tried/failed to get some sleep.
As I only had a man-bag as carry on luggage, and that the plane was only 20% full, I had paid for my 25 USD visa, and was through immigration in 15 minutes max. I changed up 5,000 baht at the airport, and jumped into a cab, with a 3 inch wad of monopoly money.
Turned up at The Oakwood Premier Cozmo, to find out Bourgeoisie Barry had booked me a suite there. Cashback. I would of been content kipping on his apartment floor, amidst cum-splattered socks and ghonerria smeared boxers, but the suite was swank. Showered up, danced in the mirror for a bit, moussed and crimped my party mullet then headed down to Loweys Bar to meet my guide.
Loweys – This is a pretty cool dinner/cafe/bar/bistro on the ground floor with a 50s type of theme. There were plenty of girls there, but what turned out to be a common them throughout the trip, they were all ropey looking hags. Had 2 of the best tasting pints of beer Ive had in a long time, swapped bare-backing and anal stories, and headed out for dinner
Social House @ Harvey Nicholls, Grand Indonesia – We arrived and had to wait for a table, so that sat us by this open-air cutout bit with a cool view of a big roundabout. Roundabouts are pretty dull, but this one looked good at night. Loads of lights and stuff. While we waited, I had 2 beers, and 2 of these lush vodka/mango cocktail contraption things, that are served with a huge slice of mango in it. You look like a bit of a shirt-lifter drinking it, but seriously, the best tasting drink I’ve ever had – even sweeter than uni girl flange. Trust me I know, I’ve eaten them all.
Got seated, and ordered some Wagu beef burgers. Much better than the Burger King I had in the morning. Dread to know how much the thing cost, but it was lush. Had more Booze and those Mango cocktail thingies for dessert. One good thing about Indonesia, which is also a bad thing, is that the level of spoken English is really high. How is this bad? I was regailing Bourgeoisie Barry with a tale about a post-op ladyboy whos dinner I pushed up a week prior, when it became apparent that the well-off Indo couple next to us, understood every word. Understandably, they looked like they could smell shit. When in Indonesia, speak quietly.
Indochine – Pretty cool place, but hit here at the wrong time. The decor reminds of that new gogo bar on the bridge thingy in Patpong. Shame the place was deserted. Seeing as there was fuck all in the way of crumpet on offer, I tried my hand with one of the PR girls. She would of been well worth pursuing, had she not had stomach cancer breath. Think hot garbage, sick, gut rot, gangreen and shit. It was bad. Necked our really gay, sugar laden kiwi cocktails, and headed into the night, in search of girls who know how to use toothbrushes and mouthwash
Red Square – The only memorable thing about this place, was that you get a condom on the way in. Oh, and that it was chock full of shit looking girls. Its a shame that there was no-one in there that I would ever dream of using my free contraceptive with. Good layout, if a little small, and great music, but was just too over-run with munters. 2 double vodka red-bulls each, and got the fuck out of dodge
Dragonfly – This was much more like it. Plenty of Girls that I would actually consider having sex with. Layout was pretty swank, and the music was really good. Bourgeoisie Barry got us on the guest list, and we were reserved a really good table, which was surrounded with Chinese-Indo beaver.
About 30 minutes in, an 18 year old Japanese girl I procured online for my main man showed up. Shit and fall back in it this girl was hot. Im talking cover-girl hot. Huge tits and a bum like a schoolboy too. Id be telling a bit of lie, if I said I hadn’t pulled one off to her Facebook pics before. She must of been drunk, as she found me unresistably charming.
The Bourgeoisie one, was busy wooing some other tart, so I wormed my way on in, and was given permission from above to have a crack at mateygirl. After a few vodka cranberries, I set about tearing the dancefloor apart with LittleMiss Tokyo. The Robot, The Running Man, The Ski Dance, and all your favourites made an appearance. Knicker wetting stuff that.
Fuck knows how, but we got through 4 bottles of Absolut Vodka, and a shit tonne of mixers. I’ve no idea who the 10 or so people who joined us where, nor do I care. I remember sticking my tongue in some gay guys mouth, and groping some girl with big hooters. All a game, but probably a good time to make an exit.
Stadium – Wish I could tell you more about this place, but by the time 3am rolled around, I was cunted.
The 1 huge selling point about this place, is that you can get disco-dust delivered to your table. I didn’t partake in any of that narcotic nonsense. No. I lasted till 9am, on willpower and athletic prowess alone, and the foul cold and 5 kilo boogers I had in the morning, was due to bad air-con in the taxi home. Im sure it was the taxi.
Around 730am, I asked if LittleMiss Tokyo wanted to head back to YP-JKT-HQ, as she told me she didn’t like the place, as it was ‘full of drugs and hookers’. Bless. She said it like thats a bad thing?
To my suprise, she said yes. I wont bore you with the details, but we did the wild thing. Well, we tried, but I had an unforgivable case of disco-dick, and resorted to thumbing it in for 10 minutes. A less than stellar performance. England 1 – Japan 0