After a brief coherent conversation (During which we somehow came into possession of a wonderful pair of fluorescent green safety slippers – but more about those later folks), I watch my friends disintegrate before me through one barely-open eye. Like indoor plants, we sit for at least an hour … maybe two. People walk by. I can hear them talking and, at one point, start to worry they might water me or put compost around my roots by accident. When my one remaining body part still functioning (My left ear) finally shuts down, I am transported in a dream (Nightmare??) back to Taipei …
… the Merry Angels minivan (You know the one – the kindergarten bus) swerves across my path on it’s way to it’s divine destination, almost pushing me into oncoming traffic. As my life flashes before me, I ask myself one simple question: what in the name of the sweet lord Jesus is a “merry angel” and why is it so damned happy to be going to the living hell that sucks most of us foreigners in like an immense $600-a-day vortex. Visions of Santa’s elves, all armed with newly-developed sex toys straight from the north pole, assail me. Oh my … they are getting down and dirty with some Hell’s Angels biker chicks as they pass through and spawning whole classrooms full of piddling and puking preschool kids. Now I’m being terrorised by snot-nosed biker children all singing “It’s a Small World After All” …
… mercifully, I regain control of my facial muscles just in time to escape a full body contact game of “What’s the Time Mr. Wolf”. One eyelid pops open, followed by the other. But, Houston, we have a problem. I’ll be damned if a horde of demon puppeteers haven’t possessed my body, each holding the string to a different muscle. What’s more, none of the bastards seem to like each other very much. It’s all very interesting watching the ceiling fan spin and examining my shoelaces at the same time, but we have the biggest bar tab in the history of bar tabs and my head, shoulders, knees and toes are just not co-operating. All is lost. Allah have mercy! I’ve been turned into a bloody marionette!!
My prayers are answered as my quadriceps kick in, so to speak. I approach the bar like a Thunderbirds character (Oh … Lady Penelope, I’ll rescue you), hands and legs bobbing around in all directions. Paying the bill is a fearful and embarrassing ordeal; getting both my butt cheeks to sit side by side without fighting while I ride my friends back to our campsite on our motorbikes is horrific beyond words; going back to sleep holds the threat of further torment at the hands of the evil, cross-bred toddlers. I’m psychologically cornered. Dear Ann Landers …
Note: despite all of what you have just read, I would have to say that this experience was a positive one on the whole. I feel I learnt something and grew as a person. I developed a better understanding of myself and of my fellow (hu)man. What’s more, during the following weeks I didn’t cough, hawk or expectorate once. My mucous membranes went into blissful hibernation and I experienced a wonderful cold & flu-free period thanks to DXM. I urge you all to try it at the very first opportunity!
