January 1996

“Wei, are you free on December 16th?”, he asked.

“Why?”, I queried.

“I’m getting married”, he replied by way of explanation.

So, Butler’s finally getting married. Now that I think of it, we’ve known each other ten years. Time flies.

Ten years ago, I’d packed my bags and left for the overseas posting so fast, Mum and Dad protested to the cloud of dust I kicked up on my way out the door. A month after stepping foot on this little rock, through various avenues, we’d somehow met and banded together – the merry band of gluttons, the eight of us.

Newbies to the City of Neon Lights, we explored the each other’s cramped quarters and the many attractions of the city as much as we explored the many eateries down dark alleyways and on the fourth floor of commercial buildings (with no signage on the door).

Telling ghost stories in a candle-lit living room, scaring the living daylights out of J (who subsequently reported that he got paranoid whilst showering at home in the wee hours of that morning when he got home).

CM, polishing off the entire box of biscuits on my table, but one (“Because I didn’t want to be the one finishing off everything mah!”). Thanks for that “kind” thought…

Ooh-ing and aah-ing, acting like complete village bumpkins when we first set eyes on CH’s apartment in the Midlevels. Then refusing to leave after the steamboat dinner that night (yes, L, one kati each of four different types of vegetables is really too much vegetables for eight people), camping out in his living room on various horizontal surfaces (now we know why they have so many bay windows in the apartments), steadfastly fighting off the sandman, waiting for six a.m. to arrive so we could get the first train home.

The arduous hike over “Dragon’s Back” because, like all stupid ideas, “It seemed like a good idea at the time”. Judge Drag turning up for the hike in a double-breasted blazer and dress shoes (most bizarre). Being chastised by the others for inviting Judge Drag along (sorry, guys! I needed to share the burden!).

Sallying out to sea in somebody’s company yacht, wind in our hair, squinting into the sun, looking back at the magnificent skyline of Victoria Harbour. Stumbling back ashore with sea-salt encrusted hair and a churning stomach.

Barbequing, Hong Kong-style, somewhere in the southern part of the island, in lashing wind and rain. ‘Prawn Man’ selfishly polishing off all the prawns, thereby earning himself that nickname.

Hips bashing into the wash basin whilst trying to sit down on the toilet bowl in CM’s postage stamp-sized apartment (and correspondingly cramped bathroom). Opening the lid of the rice-cooker and finding something live apparently being cultivated in there.

Eating so much at the steamboat buffet, the staff started slowing down the rate at which they served us the food. *More fish lips, anyone?* CM bringing a can of paint (as in, ICI/Nippon) along with him to the dinner, a sample from the IP infringement raid he’d just done up north across the border (the image of CM doing a police-style raid, bringing tears of mirth to our eyes).

Mixing our drinks in a KTV room, leading to much merriment, and a 3-second pause in my response to the cab-driver when asked where I wanted to go (“I want to go HOME, though I’ll be darned if I can remember where I live...”). Spending the rest of the cab ride home attempting to look sober and alert, in case Mr. Cab-Driver should get any funny ideas…

Butler calling me in the office, asking, “Wei, you coming home tonight to drink soup?”.

January 1996, I’d packed my bags and left for the overseas posting so fast, Mum and Dad protested to the cloud of dust I kicked up on my way out the door.