New Years Eve
New Years in the birthplace of civilization - First of all the whole thing lights up like Miami in 1986. A friend picked me up from the hotel and drove me into the city. Cascades of Christmas lights lit up raucous hotel parties. Bars I've never noticed before made their statement in neon neon neon. I meditated on the water as it reflected in flashing blues, greens and pinks, the dance of feluccas up and down the Nile and got a macabre sense of what this city is looks like when tourism is up. It sort of feels like the city is taking a nap the rest of the time. But not tonight! Short dresses and bad-assitude abounds!
We got to the British Club which, as I've mentioned before, from the outside could be the apartment your buddy Sam operates his "small business" out of. Inside is a pub run by British expats. They are all middle aged and D.R.U.N.K but they had a kickin New Years buffet. I definitely had turkey and mashed potatoes on New Year's Eve with all of Ahmed's friends.
They're super nice, by the way. Occasionally they'd parlay in English for my benefit, but for the most part, jocund Arabic is flying across the table until the evening's entertainment started. I was sitting outside, speaking with April, a tipsy 1st grade teacher who works at the American School nearby, when Amr comes flying out and says "The belly dancer is here. I've only seen her from behind, but I think you need to see this." Men converge on the dance floor and surround the lime-green gyrating vision. She's fun, but to be honest I found myself thinking that I've seen better belly dancing back home. If you were wondering whether I mentioned this to her in front of all her mono-syllabic admirers, I resisted. I think she noticed my tepid regard though, and jumped up on my table to wrap up her routine. Well played.
I will tell you this though, there is a special place in my heart for cultures that encourage dancing among men. American boys? Why don't you ever dance together? It's fun and endearing and I know you like to dance, even when girls are scarce. You don't have to hide it! Egyptian men will dance together in clubs nearly devoid of women, and yet you all refuse to boogie unless the ratio is at least 2:1 in your favor. Take a page of papyrus from the Egyptian book of manhood and dance my shy little sugar plums, dance!!
We celebrated New Years twice. Once at midnight, then again for GMT. When it approached midnight in England, a very booze-sodden Brit who looked like he belonged in an episode of "Where Are They Now?" stumbled around on stage and yelled at everyone to "Shut the fuck up!!" so that we could mimic Big Ben together in reverent unison. That's right, we all yelled "Bong" 12 times at one another. And when he felt like too many people were talking . . . in a bar . . . on New Years Eve . . . he made us start over. People with microphones should have to submit to field sobriety tests. Or I should be equipped with a dart gun at all times.
Highlight of the night . . . well there were two . . . but the first highlight came when LMFAO came on and everyone emphatically replicated the "Sexy and I Know it" dance. All the way down to the *Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle*'s. Have you got the visual? If not, your probably better off.
The other highlight of the night was when I turned to my hosts and complained that I hadn't seen any honest fights in Egypt yet. Amr was midway through expressing his surprise that thus far, I had not witnessed a good old-fashioned throw down, when a guy threw a glass at the bartender and they started getting into it. They mostly just yelled at each other in Arabic, but I know brinksmanship when I see it. But Amr looked at me like I'd just pulled a maine coon out of my blouse. That is the exact level of surprise. Magic Maine Coon surprise. No more, no less.
My magic prediction cost me my night though, because everyone on the dance floor got sucked strait into the swirling vortex of a fight that seemed right on the verge for about 30 minutes, but never actually happened. Party dead. Rest in Peace.
My night ended on a high note though. As my ride made his way graciously to my hotel, I began to complain once again about how seriously bereft of hand-to-hand violence my trip had been and sure enough! Right in front of my hotel, two men came to blows and I bore witness. AND my reputation as a telekinetic fight-starter is iron clad now.
Now how to use my new power for good?
We got to the British Club which, as I've mentioned before, from the outside could be the apartment your buddy Sam operates his "small business" out of. Inside is a pub run by British expats. They are all middle aged and D.R.U.N.K but they had a kickin New Years buffet. I definitely had turkey and mashed potatoes on New Year's Eve with all of Ahmed's friends.
They're super nice, by the way. Occasionally they'd parlay in English for my benefit, but for the most part, jocund Arabic is flying across the table until the evening's entertainment started. I was sitting outside, speaking with April, a tipsy 1st grade teacher who works at the American School nearby, when Amr comes flying out and says "The belly dancer is here. I've only seen her from behind, but I think you need to see this." Men converge on the dance floor and surround the lime-green gyrating vision. She's fun, but to be honest I found myself thinking that I've seen better belly dancing back home. If you were wondering whether I mentioned this to her in front of all her mono-syllabic admirers, I resisted. I think she noticed my tepid regard though, and jumped up on my table to wrap up her routine. Well played.
I will tell you this though, there is a special place in my heart for cultures that encourage dancing among men. American boys? Why don't you ever dance together? It's fun and endearing and I know you like to dance, even when girls are scarce. You don't have to hide it! Egyptian men will dance together in clubs nearly devoid of women, and yet you all refuse to boogie unless the ratio is at least 2:1 in your favor. Take a page of papyrus from the Egyptian book of manhood and dance my shy little sugar plums, dance!!
We celebrated New Years twice. Once at midnight, then again for GMT. When it approached midnight in England, a very booze-sodden Brit who looked like he belonged in an episode of "Where Are They Now?" stumbled around on stage and yelled at everyone to "Shut the fuck up!!" so that we could mimic Big Ben together in reverent unison. That's right, we all yelled "Bong" 12 times at one another. And when he felt like too many people were talking . . . in a bar . . . on New Years Eve . . . he made us start over. People with microphones should have to submit to field sobriety tests. Or I should be equipped with a dart gun at all times.
Highlight of the night . . . well there were two . . . but the first highlight came when LMFAO came on and everyone emphatically replicated the "Sexy and I Know it" dance. All the way down to the *Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle*'s. Have you got the visual? If not, your probably better off.
The other highlight of the night was when I turned to my hosts and complained that I hadn't seen any honest fights in Egypt yet. Amr was midway through expressing his surprise that thus far, I had not witnessed a good old-fashioned throw down, when a guy threw a glass at the bartender and they started getting into it. They mostly just yelled at each other in Arabic, but I know brinksmanship when I see it. But Amr looked at me like I'd just pulled a maine coon out of my blouse. That is the exact level of surprise. Magic Maine Coon surprise. No more, no less.
My magic prediction cost me my night though, because everyone on the dance floor got sucked strait into the swirling vortex of a fight that seemed right on the verge for about 30 minutes, but never actually happened. Party dead. Rest in Peace.
My night ended on a high note though. As my ride made his way graciously to my hotel, I began to complain once again about how seriously bereft of hand-to-hand violence my trip had been and sure enough! Right in front of my hotel, two men came to blows and I bore witness. AND my reputation as a telekinetic fight-starter is iron clad now.
Now how to use my new power for good?
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