Shore Leave

I'm not sure if this is a common expression, perhaps even a standardized 'system' in some parts of America, or whether it is a unique invention of The Man In Black, with whom I went out on Friday night - but he began our evening with an exuberant elaboration of his meaning of the term, over several beers in Huxley's. He's obviously fond of a lads' night out once in a while, and, although his recent marriage may perhaps have inhibited such activity slightly, it appears that his lovely wife is prepared to allow him quite a bit of latitude to continue such occasional indulgences - but, in the interests of compromise and peaceful co-existence, he and his lady have, during their years of dating, evolved a set of rules for such nights, gradations of 'shore leave' that govern what he can get up to and how late he can stay out.

That night, he informed me, he had to observe a 1.30am curfew. Which is why he had wanted to start drinking at 5pm prompt.

I was a little late in joining him - but soon made up for lost time.

Then we went for an Indian meal. Then we went to a gig. Then we went to the Pool Bar. Then we went back to Huxley's.

The curfew had long since come and gone. Noticing its approach, I had become a little anxious on his behalf (and on my own: his wife is gorgeous but formidable.... and I don't want to find myself painted as the bad influence), and said: "Hey, man, I'm not saying you have to go home now. But I am saying you gotta promise me you will tell your good lady that I suggested that you did."

At this point, The Man In Black was 'on tilt' - there was no stopping him. Three hours later, he was eagerly suggesting we try out a new bar he'd heard about near Andingmen which apparently has a happy hour from 4am-5am. Or maybe we could head across town to Sammie's, which usually goes all night, he suggested.

I'm afraid I wussed out. I had long since passed my limit - both for alcohol consumption, and for being able to stay awake. And I didn't want to completely write off a Saturday for which I had had such high hopes.

It is most unlike me to quit first. But last night, I was already reeling from three successive days of late-night excess, was utterly physically and emotionally exhausted, fretting about my distended liver (actually, today, I swear I am conscious of most of my internal organs - it's not nice), probably suffering from soju poisoning..... I had been planning on a quiet little cultural and social evening, without excessive drinking. The concert at Jiangjinjiu was unlikely to go on much after 11.30 or 12.00, and I had really thought I might make it home to bed shortly thereafter. But no..... oh dear god, NO.

Next time, MIB, I need a little more warning, a little more mental preparation.