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Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Blame Anthony Bourdain

I do. Each of my teeth has its own separate hangover. That third martini must have been spiked. I recall jauntily launching myself downhill on the road to my hotel - alone for some reason - when a taxi driver took pity on me and bundled my sorry excuse for a body into his car for God knows how much money.

I also recall hugging the band's guitarist like he was my long lost (Balinese) brother, but I also told the singer she should wear high heels. This was later (how much later, I can't tell you) at a completely empty club I recollect as being called IngSoc, but that maybe due to us talking Orwellian Newspeak earlier in the day. I am feeling double plus ungood currently. We toasted the late great Keith Floyd, goddam him.

My head says eat, but my stomach says no fucking way.

There's a sign on the wall (but you've got to be sure) about Bourdain claiming Nury's BBQ place (candlelit due to a rainstorm) to have the best martini on the planet. Unfortunately, Jeremy told us, this declaration never made it to his (Bourdain's, that is, Jeremy doesn't have one, but do I have his card) TV show. Meanwhile (or later, or earlier) I was explaining the indubitable (I think Adam tried to use that word first, but pronounced it "inbubblable" - he had commenced on the martinis before us) superiority of Frank Moorhouse's book on martinis as I sipped on my second vodkatini (is a vodka martini, strictly speaking, a martini?) when the rational world began to collapse around me. Is Ubud really a martini town, I kept asking no-one in particular.

Somehow, around 1am, I had survived thus far and wisely decided to repair to my hotel in order to repair, which has only partially succeeded thus far. I believe Daryl witnessed my return. He was sitting bemused in a chair in reception surrounded by fuzzy lizard creatures. I may be wrong in this.

~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning I shocked the gardener into silence by walking out naked to collect my swimming trunks which had been drying on the balcony.

Ungood.

How was your night?

E@L

12 comments:

HKMacs said...

I know that place. Barbecued fresh tuna on Weds night weekly special?

Lethal martinis - about half a bottle in an extremely large glass if I remember, right?

Indiana said...

Ubud is most definitely not a Martini town...maybe at best a G&T, at worst a beer-only...but definitely not Martini.

And you only had 3?

expat@large said...

HKM: the martinis were in proper glasses, but they were double for sure, and you had to sip the top of it to get all the rest in from the shaker... Lethal...

expat@large said...

Indy: if Anthony Bourdain says they are the best on the planet, and Brian who owns the place is a New Yorker too, then Ubud BECOMES a martini town.. Best wishes to Brian who is having cardiac surgery somewhere.

Hunter-Gatherer said...

Maybe you are havibng a first class hangover. Make sure there ia a plaque on the wall explaining this.

scott said...

What a MESS

Skippy-san said...

Only one solution-start drinking again and postpone the hangover till you get back home!

expat@large said...

H-G: there WERE plaques on the wall!

Scott: shambles

Skip: have been good for last 36 hrs.

Off to Sanur today, who knows what will happen there?

Paula said...

Your story gave me a much-needed laugh, but you poor man! (We should know better at certain ages perhaps.. speaking from experience)

And how are those feet after your jaunt downhill?

expat@large said...

Paula: I neglected to take my tablets that night, so they were sore next day...

JP said...

If you drank 3 martini's at Nuri's you're a better man than me! (It’s more like 3.5 martinis or 7 normal martinis since you have to take a drink first to make room for the rest of the shaker). Maybe you noticed the 3 martini paintings on the wall depicting the stages of drunkenness after each martini...mildly amusing

expat@large said...

JP: I'm not sure where lies the critical junction between "better man" and "stupider man".

I didn't notice anything due to a brown-out. Then my own memory black-out, of course. I did not sleep on the street however, nor collapse at the table as described here: http://everywheremag.com/places/4028.

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