Hit the ground running

This is uncensored. This is no detail spared. This is nothing left out. I'm going to recount everyday I spend here in Macau, offering every thing I can remember as I write this down. I've always been secretive, always been the type not to volunteer information, whether trivial or vital. But now, who gives a fuck? I'm going to tell everything. There's no point in hiding anything, especially since I've been seen at my worst. Or at least, my most pathetic state. You need not hold back in your opinions as well.
Although recent experience has taught me not to put too much trust in the words of other people, or even in their apparent goodness, I'm still a fool who believes that you should get what you give to the world. So here goes. Thursday to Sunday in Macau, and you're all gonna read about it here, every night before I sleep on my brother's sofa.

After spending four hours at work, I started packing what I thought I would need for my stay in Macau. I brought a couple of notebooks, used ones with writing in them already. I packed and charged my netbook, which I'm using now. I packed three packs of luckies into my hand carry. Then I met Carlo at the Starbucks near Mapua Makati, where we had a short discussion about how things are. It's mostly the same, but I guessed what was important for him to see was how I was adjusting to recently received information. I think I'm doing fine, personally. At about 5pm, we were at the airport. He dropped me off and told me sincerely to take care and to enjoy myself. I told him I would.
Check-in was easier than I thought it would be. The only hassle I really encountered was the guard who suspiciously poked through my pack of cigarettes, and the distance between my departure gate and the only open smoking lounge. The flight itself, though filled with moments of turbulence, was fine. Though I was inside this huge metal vehicle, it still felt a little bit liberating, the sensation of flight. I fell asleep a few times, mostly due to exhaustion and boredom, but I would always wake up with a disoriented feeling. At one point, I thought I was simply in a cab, on my way to school, years ago. Then I realized I was in a plane with several strangers, two of them on either side of me. To ease his own boredom, I guess, this guy beside me started making conversation. To be honest, I didn't hear half the things he said, since the plane's engines were too loud. Still, I kept nodding and chuckling politely at the obvious points. Some time had passed when I realized he was talking about how God saved him when a truck had fell on him and almost cut him in half. That was certainly no laughing matter. No wonder he had a bemused look on his face when I chuckled. Yet he kept on talking to me anyway.
Eventually, the plane landed in front of the small structure that served as an airport for this territory. It wasn't until I was in the middle of the line for immigration, when I realized that I was in another country. I looked around, taking in the sights, and notice of this one particular sign they had on a wall. It read: Smart people see what there. Stupid people see what could be there. I don't know if it's a stab at irony, or just an expression of plain bluntness. Or it could just be extremely bad English. I never thought I'd see the word "stupid" on an airport sign.
Anyway, immigration was smooth for me. When it was my turn, the officer just scanned and stamped my passport then let me leave. It was easy enough for me to find my luggage, being conveyed around the airport. And then I met my brother outside.
The first place we went to was his apartment, of course. I stowed my things, washed a little, then we hit the ground running. We first had a late dinner at some place whose name I don't remember how to pronounce. I had the Portuguese Style Fried Rice, with some nameless beef and wonton steamed dish. My brother had Tsing Tao. I asked for the eel first, but the rare English-speaking waitress told us there were no eels left. The place we ate at was small, pretty much like the size of your regular carinderia with videoke. This one had no videoke, but had a flat screen TV on one wall, with a cooking show on. The patrons were mostly Chinese, having beer and noodles. There was also this young-looking guy, who had steamed vegetables and plain rice, which he ate enthusiastically. That all the more brought home the fact to me that I was indeed not in Makati anymore.
Walking around Taipa, the island of Macau we were on, I got to see the buildings and structures they had. The streets were small, but that was fine, since there weren't too many cars passing by. The cabs were right-hand drive, which really was disorienting. Stoplights were rare, so you really had to take care when crossing the street. Pedestrian lanes were patronized and used by pedestrians, not by jeep drivers trying to fill their 18-seaters. The streets were clean, quiet and orderly. The shops were already closed, except for the ones which catered to the gambling public.
Our next stop was Wynn Hotel and Casino. We were driven there by a cab-driver who was severely in need of a bath and a stick of deodorant, at the same time. At Wynn, we failed to catch the fountain show. We were able to catch the Tree of Life, though.
There was a round hole on the ground, with a hole the same size above. The one above was actually a screen which played convincing graphics with a 3D texture. The hole on the ground revealed the Tree of Life which was hidden under a dome. My brother handed me a coin to throw, so I could make a wish. The first thing that came to my mind, as I hurled the coin at the tree's base, was "I wish I could turn back time."
After that, we went to MGM Grand, where I won 36 HKD at the slots, and broke even at Big and Small. We also went to the Lion's bar, which my brother told me was a real popular hangout. A live band performed for and flirted with the crowd. We ordered one Jack and coke each while we took in the scenery. So many women, breaking away from work, just trying to relax. My brother said "hi" to a strange woman sitting at the bar beside us. She greeted him back, but left to join her friends not long after. I said hi to some strange girls as well, which wasn't hard, but just felt weird. When we finished the drinks, we had trouble deciding where to next.
We found ourselves at a quiet strip of establishments, quiet mostly because business was not as good. They were the kind of places you won't go to if you were female, unless you worked there. To be honest, it was quite tame. No stripping, no nudity, just girls dancing in skimpy clothes, revealing a lot. We entered one establishment that had the promise of having one of the famous Russian girls performing there.
Inside, it seemed quite dead. The place was cramped, with a converted-chapel type of feel. The arches were awkward, and the spacing was inefficient. We ordered drinks and waited for the performance to start, along with the other customers there. The only two other tables occupied, I mean. By this time, I was almost drunk.
The first girl to dance was someone who didn't really seem to have her heart in it. She bent and twirled, stiffly and with no grace. She was one of the two Mongolians to dance before the lone Russian.
The next Mongolian, though, was the real star. She called herself Stacy. She wasn't stunningly pretty, but she had a cute face and nice curves. And when she danced, she danced with everything. Her body shook and gyrated, her hands went up and down her torso slowly, she bent over and showed her ass like she enjoyed it. Her facial expressions were more than alluring. In my drunken state, I noticed I began to shake and felt goosebumps on my skin.
Stacy, it seemed to me, exuded sexy. Sexy was a role she could play effortlessly.
The next dancer, the Russian, paled in comparison to her.
True, her face was more beautiful, her breasts were fuller and her ass was fairer. After Stacy though, the Russian was disappointing.
There were only three dancers tonight. My brother and I stayed long enough to see Stacy dance again. When her song was over, I was already sobering up. We left, and headed back to the apartment, where I revealed to my brother that I have been smoking habitually for some time now.
Tomorrow, we're going to do some wholesome sightseeing in the afternoon. Once the night comes, we'll probably head for one of the many places to drink, with or without entertainment. I think I'd like to see Stacy dance again.