A rueful text message I sent out last night:
"I think THE COIN has been kidnapped and substituted with a dud. It's been giving me some bad steers tonight. Of course, the problem could just be that nobody else listens to THE COIN."
Going to Sanlitun is usually a bad idea at the best of times; when it's raining - ugh! The excursion got off to the worst of starts when I mislaid my subway pass. Not realising I didn't have it on me until I got to my local station, and not wanting to waste 15 or 20 minutes going back home to try to find it, I decided to try to hail a cab instead. Three of the bastards in succession refused to take me there - god knows what was up with that! Eventually I gave up, went home to root out the hiding subway pass.... and ended up being an hour late reaching my intended destination.
Then I was serially stood up by The Weeble, The Choirboy, The Chairman, and New Media (who apparently missed - or somehow misinterpreted - a whole string of txt msgs along the lines of: "I'm in The Village all on my own - HELP!"
However, things began to improve with a couple of very tasty - and ridiculously strong - cocktails from Pat at Tryst, and then JK's impulsive decision to try to entice customers out of the drizzle with a two-for-one offer on all drinks at 12 Square Metres.
No, not such a bad night after all. I must keep faith with THE COIN. I shouldn't blame it for my useless bastard friends and useless bastard Beijing taxi drivers.
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