Hookers and Green Thongs

My friend Ayumi and I were on Orchard Road the other night observing the working girls while waiting in the queue for a taxi. Watching the hookers is always interesting entertainment, especially when there are a few, shall we say, “questionable” ones lurking around. Ayumi and I like to take bets on which ones are really men. Dressed as women. The best is when some poor unsuspecting, male newcomer starts talking to one of them not realizing that SHE is really a HE.

On this particular night we had front row seats to an exceptionally funny show. This overweight Caucasian guy, who was clearly annihilated out of his mind, catches my eye as he comes rambling down the street weaving in and out of traffic. Like a drunken sailor on leave, he makes a beeline directly for a cluster of whores in front of the sex toy store. I elbow Ayumi in the ribs and motion over to the scene. Ayumi bursts into giggles as she points out that this bloke, dressed all in white, has a green glow-in-the dark thong on with matching crocs and a sun visor.

After a few minutes of what we could only assume was negotiating, Don Juan with the Killer Thong, gets into a taxi with a “girl” on each arm. Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, the poor schmuck doesn’t realize that he’s just gotten in a cab with two transvestites! Dammit! Where’s my camera when I need it?

Morning Run

Today on my morning run, as I was listening to U2’s “It’s a Beautiful Day” (insert irony here) on my Ipod, I came upon a monkey eating Fruit Loops out of someone’s trash bin. He stopped and looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights before he took off through the trees. It’s like this every morning. A few days ago, it was a huge black squirrel that ran next to me on the sidewalk for a few minutes as if he were my loyal dog.

The neighborhood where I live is very hilly, filled with lush foliage, sweet smelling jasmine, alien-like lizards and old houses that some of the locals believe are haunted. During WWII, the British lost Bukit Timah (where I live) to the Japanese. Many soldiers died here that day. And in 1860, over 200 people were reportedly killed by tigers. So, I tend to believe the ghost rumors.

As I run by the workers from Bangladesh squatting on the side of the road, waiting for their ride to take them to work, I think about how great it would be to be able to fly, then I realize, I AM flying!