We wanted to celebrate the prohibition of drinking Red Bull in Hong Kong by partaking in Vodka and Red Bull. Our purpose had a bit of urgency. Because if it had been banned in Taipei, Hong Kong, some parts of North America – we didn’t know how much longer it would be freely available.
It broke Manish and I’s heart. I was torn about what drink I would become my new drink of choice when I returned in Hong Kong. I guess I would have to go my second choice that I learned to drink in Melbourne, Australia – Vodka and Cherry Coke.
Ajay had never had it before and now because it might be on the verge of being illegal – he wanted to try it. So all three of us walked out of the office which was chilled by the wall air conditioners out into to the stifling afternoon heat of Mumbai – on the cusp of the rainy season – I had to take my glasses off because they steamed up.
Dodging taxis, playing human “Frogger” through a round-a-bout, we moved toward the beach front and opposite of the ocean, we entered Hotel Marine Plaza. Just past the lobby was Geoffrey’s the Pub.
We didn’t wait for the bartender to hand out menus, “Three Vodka and Red Bulls please,” I said.
The bartender seemed a bit shocked but gathered the drink menus back to his chest and wrote down our orders.
“So how you like being married?” I said looking at Manish.
He smiled wide. “It’s great.”
“So how did you find her?”
“An ad.” Manish looked smug.
“But it wasn’t online. He put an advertisement in a marriage magazine. That makes for a smaller demographic – a more local demographic.” Ajay added.
“Yeah, Ajay, he put an ad online for his wife.”
“Yeah, I wanted a broader search.” Ajaya admitted.
I laughed. “You wanted more selection.”
“I wanted many makes and models,” he said just as the bartender returned with slender glasses filled at the bottom with transparent vodka and the small, beautiful cans of silver and blue Red Bull.
We were like kids seeing them mix our liquid cocaines – giddy. And soon as they were ready, we clinked our glasses quickly and took down big gulps.
I turned to Ajay to see his face. He was looking through his beverage as if he could spot the ingredients while swallowing down what he had in his mouth. “What do you think?”
“Not bad,” and he took another gulp.
“You are now an addict, my friend.” I said and all three of us toasted again.
“Here’s to hoping so.” Ajay answered.
“So what do you put on your ad? Do you have to come up with a cool catchy tag line – like something to market yourself?” I asked Manish.
He shook his head. “No its not a dating service. This is a service where people mean business. You just put your age, your career, the city you live, and your name.”
“So you can choose anybody?”
“Oh no, your family chooses.”
“Wow, you didn’t choose her?” I said taking a deep drink.
Ajay spoke up. “Actually I was different. I didn’t trust my parents. So my marriage was arranged – by me.”
“Very entrepreneurial of you. A self-proprietor of your marriage.”
“Exactly. But of course they have to confirm the choice I made.” And he took another drink.
“You know guys, I think you have the right thing going here. Look at me – I got to choose my wife naturally – and it fell apart. And look at you guys – arranged and very happy.”
Manish beamed. “Yes, very happy.”
“Do you still feel she’s your destiny?” I asked honestly.
He paused to lift his drink to his mouth. “Absolutely. She was my match perfectly. The only difference is we chose when our destinies would be revealed to us.”
“Destiny now.” Ajay summarized.
I smiled and I lifted my drink again and we toasted again – and all at the same time we emptied our glasses. Manish rose his hand to order another round before he put down the empty one.
It broke Manish and I’s heart. I was torn about what drink I would become my new drink of choice when I returned in Hong Kong. I guess I would have to go my second choice that I learned to drink in Melbourne, Australia – Vodka and Cherry Coke.
Ajay had never had it before and now because it might be on the verge of being illegal – he wanted to try it. So all three of us walked out of the office which was chilled by the wall air conditioners out into to the stifling afternoon heat of Mumbai – on the cusp of the rainy season – I had to take my glasses off because they steamed up.
Dodging taxis, playing human “Frogger” through a round-a-bout, we moved toward the beach front and opposite of the ocean, we entered Hotel Marine Plaza. Just past the lobby was Geoffrey’s the Pub.
We didn’t wait for the bartender to hand out menus, “Three Vodka and Red Bulls please,” I said.
The bartender seemed a bit shocked but gathered the drink menus back to his chest and wrote down our orders.
“So how you like being married?” I said looking at Manish.
He smiled wide. “It’s great.”
“So how did you find her?”
“An ad.” Manish looked smug.
“But it wasn’t online. He put an advertisement in a marriage magazine. That makes for a smaller demographic – a more local demographic.” Ajay added.
“Yeah, Ajay, he put an ad online for his wife.”
“Yeah, I wanted a broader search.” Ajaya admitted.
I laughed. “You wanted more selection.”
“I wanted many makes and models,” he said just as the bartender returned with slender glasses filled at the bottom with transparent vodka and the small, beautiful cans of silver and blue Red Bull.
We were like kids seeing them mix our liquid cocaines – giddy. And soon as they were ready, we clinked our glasses quickly and took down big gulps.
I turned to Ajay to see his face. He was looking through his beverage as if he could spot the ingredients while swallowing down what he had in his mouth. “What do you think?”
“Not bad,” and he took another gulp.
“You are now an addict, my friend.” I said and all three of us toasted again.
“Here’s to hoping so.” Ajay answered.
“So what do you put on your ad? Do you have to come up with a cool catchy tag line – like something to market yourself?” I asked Manish.
He shook his head. “No its not a dating service. This is a service where people mean business. You just put your age, your career, the city you live, and your name.”
“So you can choose anybody?”
“Oh no, your family chooses.”
“Wow, you didn’t choose her?” I said taking a deep drink.
Ajay spoke up. “Actually I was different. I didn’t trust my parents. So my marriage was arranged – by me.”
“Very entrepreneurial of you. A self-proprietor of your marriage.”
“Exactly. But of course they have to confirm the choice I made.” And he took another drink.
“You know guys, I think you have the right thing going here. Look at me – I got to choose my wife naturally – and it fell apart. And look at you guys – arranged and very happy.”
Manish beamed. “Yes, very happy.”
“Do you still feel she’s your destiny?” I asked honestly.
He paused to lift his drink to his mouth. “Absolutely. She was my match perfectly. The only difference is we chose when our destinies would be revealed to us.”
“Destiny now.” Ajay summarized.
I smiled and I lifted my drink again and we toasted again – and all at the same time we emptied our glasses. Manish rose his hand to order another round before he put down the empty one.
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