Striking Out on Our Own
Review: Shanghai Nightspots Part Two

I chalked our first night up to nothing more than a learning experience, which is a really good way to rationalize something that by and large totally sucked. Like the time you got drunk at the zoo and snuck into the monkey house only to be sexually and fecally assaulted by nine angry primates. Learning experience. So with resumed gusto, we three Hangzhou plizzayas struck out on our own to see the city we missed the prevous night because we were too busy hobnobbing (albeit against our want) with the blue noses of Shanghai’s upper class.

We hit the streets of Pudong at the crack of 1 p.m. and made our ever so touristy way over to the Jin Mao building because when you’re that close to the fifth largest building in the world you go to the top and say “OOH, AAH.” We got drinks at the Cloud 9 Cafe which is located on the 87th floor and took several elevators to reach. We nestled ourselves into a cozy little, black, leather booth and just relaxed as we admired the spectacular view, which thanks to Shanghai’s pristine air quality afforded us a crystal clear view for distances up to one hundred square feet. The Pearl Tower was shrouded in haze and I could hit that tower with a rock from the Jin Mao building. C’mon China let’s get this air pollution thing under control. You’re being compared unfavorably to Mexico City and the atmosphere on Venus.

I can’t remember what Alf had because I don’t care (he had coffee), but Carl had a 50 kuai glass of orange juice that was orgasmic. It was as though the Virgin Mary betrothed the finest Valencia oranges to twelve of Cuba’s most beautiful virgins to juice betwixt their thighs. It was enlightenment in a glass, but Chivas was only 55 RMB so you know. After our refreshments (which for me included several cigarettes)and inhaling the view that is admittedly spectacular despite the smog we left to find our Shanghai. The mean streets. The dregs. The last vestiges of Shanghai’s downtrodden and forgotten. What did we end up finding? Bar whores and Excalibur Rocks (which also had bar whores.)

To pay tribute and respect to chronology those things were found later in the night. On our round about search for the Bund (which was anti-climatic), we did manage to find what I believe is the largest hardware destrict this side of Bob Villa’s secret cache in the Appalacians. Two way switchers, nail guns, power saws, pressure valves, mallots (rubber and metal), gauges, seals and gaskets and a whole bunch of etcetera and et cetera (they’re slightly different.) Shop after shop with no breaks in facade for eight blocks. Nary a restaurant, bar or Bed, Bath and Beyond to be scene for close to two miles. Wierd and boring altogether, if I didn’t need 300 hundred square feet of carbon fiber stucco lathe the trip would have been a complete waste.

The original plan was simple, take the subway from Pudong to Puxi. Hit the streets on foot, see the sights, and stop in any bar that peaks our interest. This works great in other cities as you normally can’t travel two blocks in any direction without coming across some establishment purveying alcohol in some capacity (excluding convenience stores because they lack ambience.) Instead we walked for hours and found only a large micro-brau haus in the Bund charging more than I’d prefer to pay for dialysis much less the beer that will inevitably sire my need for such separative processes.

Maoming Lu:

The only bar I wanted to check out was one called, “Excalibur Rocks.” It was recommended to me by the guys who took us out the night prior when I explained to them that I feel more comfortable in less classy, dive bars. Our plan was to head there after nightfall but after hours of walking we ended up at Starbucks thumbing through the bar/nightclub section of That’s Shanghai and the street Maoming Lu escaped from Alf’s mouth. Now I had heard enough about Maoming Lu to know I didn’t want to go there. It sounded more than vaguely reminiscent of the the places we went last night in Fuxing Park. I was not into it, but as passing suggestions so oft transmogrify into imperatives so did this one and we were on our way. I had never been so I wasn’t about to protest. For all I knew it could turn out great….

….but it didn’t. It was just like Fuxing Park. Arrogant pricks and snooty hoes as far as my astigmatism afflicted eyes could see. It wasn’t too bad though. When you have Alf and Carl with you a boiling clam chowder enema can seem tolerable, dare I say, pleasurable? Nah, only if it was New England style but still those are some pretty good guys. Especially when Alf shows off that keen intellect of his, like when we sitting at the bar at Windows:

Alf: Dude it’s buy two get one free.

Greg: Yeah….

Alf: I’m gonna get six!

Greg: Why?

Alf: Because…fuck…shit what am I thinking!

Greg: I have no idea. Just get two.

It was in Windows Bar that we saw the most pretentious gaggle of young women this side of Victorian England. With the exception of us there was nobody in the bar other than the staff and one couple. These girls barrel through the front door and the jollity that lit up their collective (four Asian one Caucasian) faces was instantly erased and out of one of their mouth’s came a disgusted, “God there is like nobody in here. This place is totally dead!” What a thing to announce when the three most eliglbe bachelors in China are sitting twelve feet away from you. They were, like most women I met in Shanghai, very attractive until you speak to them. Once you engage them in conversation the beauty just drains out of them like they were Nazis exposed to the Arc of the Covenent. The young women in Windows that Saturday night were just caricatured representations of the whole and they were all ugly because of how shallow and mean they were. Except the white one. Man, she had this gorgeous, huge ass. I wanted to wear it like a hat. Tossed salad table one, oh yeah. You feel me. Anyway, we left shortly after, it was expensive even with the two for one and they weren’t playing any music.

After that we headed back up Maoming Lu to a bar called Nelly’s. I wanted to go in solely because of the St. Louis based rapper of the same name who had no affiliation with this bar whatsoever. I’m sure if he had it would not have sucked so much. Three 355 ml (12 oz.) Tigers cost 105 kuai. Tai gui le! And they were luke bing de at best (Barely cold for those of you not down with the Chinese.) The music was not too loud and ultimately unoffensive, had we not been barraged by bar ladies (bar whores) whooping, “Handsome Boys! Handsome Boys,” it would have been quite the comfortable pub if one forgot completely about the astronmical drink prices. We couldn’t even begin to relax and shoot the proverbial shit when attractive Chinese girls sunk their sultry talons into our uninterested flesh. Now I’m all about having women fawn all over me because it’s never happened before and it sounds quite captivating. However, when they are doing it because they are paid too and it is their job to increase an establishment’s profits I tend to care quite less for it. Wait a sec! You just want Bailey’s! (which is true)I thought you were genuinely interested in me as a person and because I’m a sexual dynamo? Even though the nice, 21 year old girl from Ningbo was very sweet and attractive I had to leave because I just don’t feel right in those situaitons. One, they don’t like me. They’re just doing a job. Two, they aren’t even from Shanghai. They come from all over, mainly rural areas, to make money for a few months doing things I’d rather not think about and then go home with hardly enough money to make it worth their while and God only knows how many emotional scars to deal with. It upsets me. So I came up with some crappy excuse that took Carl five minutes to catch on to, “Wait who do we have to meet?” as to why we had to leave (because I’m an idiot and didn’t want to hurt their feelings) and we split.

Alf’s Golden Moment of Unbridled Intellect No. 2:

The cabs in Shanghai aren’t nearly as nice as the ones in Hangzhou but they are more beneficial in regards to aiding novice Chinese speakers. On the back of the Plexiglass sneeze-guard that protects the cabbie from anything except weapons there is a little corner with a Chinese character and its pinyin written below. To the right of the character there is the English equivalent with a picture above it. In our cab we learned “shu” or “book.” Alf immediately chimed in:

Alf: Dude, that’s not how you spell,”book.”

Carl: How else would you spell it?

Alf: Not with two “O’s.”

Greg: How the hell do you spell book?

Alf: Wait is it two “O’s?”

Carl: Uh, yeah. Dumbass.

Alf: Fuck you dude.

Greg: Maybe you’d like a “U” or something. The two “O’s” is quite a hassle.

Alf: I hate you guys.

Excalibur Rocks:

Located on some road a short distance from a bar called, “Malone’s,” that I hear is popular is a bar called, “Excalibur Rocks.” Its got bar whores (I don’t like that term lets call them lascivious ladies for increased fiscal gain) but not nearly as assertive are they as they were at Nelly’s. But the drinks were well priced and not only was the music good, we got to pick it! It was great. REM, Velvet Underground, Wham, Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Radiohead, all sorts of good stuff. I got turned down by an L.L.I.F.G. with third degree burns across her left forearm and got drunk off 28 kuai liter beers. It was the high point of the evening. More to come…..