The Tropez chic

Let's hop into the time machine and go back to last Friday.

I left the office early [before 1900] and was walking towards downtown to get my mat. Brrrr. Brrrr. An sms checks in. Pitia Tropez. I'm vaguely aware of this Tropez place so I take a detour towards that direction.

I check in to the place and find a line. I'm a bit bemused but figure that this isn't too abnormal. After a short while I get impatient and peek to the front of the misplaced queue just to realise all these guys ahead of me have been frozen by the bouncers and are debating about their age. I walk in, scan the space. No one familiar. I see some stairs and head that way. The place is packed. The music is too loud. I'm not coming back here ever again.

I notice a chic in a black v-necked top, but there are sooo many women around. Kamikaze and 0.5 are in the house and I join them, still clutching my Nakumatt paperbag with some toothpaste and fa soap. At some point, the chic in a black top moves to a table across ours and I notice. 0.5 must have said something to spur me because next thing I knew, I was walking up towards her. She was with some pal so I said my his and then the usual 'you're so beautiful' comes flying out of my mouth. She says she's given me 20 mins but at 2 mins, I'm already short of meaningful conversation. I make a quit exit, making her promise to pass by our table before she leaves.

We end up leaving before them so I go up to her. Some guy is also trying to negotiate for a couple of minutes of her time, but I figure I was there first. I ask for her number. She takes my phone and weka's it in. [Don't go to the gutter yet]. We head for Jack Swing and the rip-off of the 140-bob water. While there, I meet another chic on the floor whose number I acquire. I didn't do the 'you're so beautiful' thing because I don't exactly like lying. Not that she was bad looking. There's something distictively subjective about attraction.

The clock strikes 4 am. Witches are probably up and about around town. Brrrr. Brrrr. Brrrr. Someone's calling me? It's the Tropez chic flashing me. I hurriedly call her back. She's at Choices. Her friend is with her boyfriend and she's bored. Can I come over? My mind starts doing the math. I'm with basically all my friends here. My friends vs an attractive chic. To my surprise, my friends win and I tell her how I'll try to make it there if we leave on time.

As soon as I hang up, I have this sudden urge to leave. I immediately decide that this place is not boring anymore and start making gestures to everyone that it's time to leave. Shortly, she calls me again. Am I going to make it? Now I'm not so convincing in telling her I may pass by. Finally, we leave. As we are at the gate, she calls again, now sounding a bit fed up. Are you coming? It's almost 5. Finally, I succumb. I decide to leave the only guys I hang out with week in week out. I'll be there in 10 mins I confidently tell her. I was about to turn and hail a cab, but asked out loud 'who wants to go to choices?'. Guys look at me with disbelief on their faces. I tell them the way I have 10 mins to get to some chic and some symphathy checks in for me. We rush to choices.

0.5 and I check in but some bouncer-wannabe tells us the place is locked. I'm confused. The guy must have seen the shock on my face cause he let us in. They are in the basement so we hang out there for a little while. Just chatting about music and stuff. It's basically morning so we leave, get to town, buy some fries and say our goodbyes.

That's the Tropez chic.