These days I am spending more and more time with M. It’s funny that the factors that make two people closer include time, transport and possibly, boredom.
Today, M and I are going for a morning jog at the Botanical Gardens. M has just been back from his holiday to Bangkok and has many stories to tell me – among them, clubs, gangsters and dodgy sushi places.
Armin and Armand
In the 30-minute journey in his car, I am introduced to trance DJs like Armin van Buuren and Armand van Helden. I end up only embracing OceanLab with Justine Suissa, and not just because they’re from London, but because only the English can make music like that.
M is telling me about a certain nightclub in Bangkok which plays Armin/Armand type music.
“You have to go to Narcissus,” he raves. “It’s like nothing you’ll ever see.”
“Oh yes,” I reply sarcastically.
He goes on. “It’s the best trance club in the world! Did you know that local girls go in for free and the foreign-looking men have to pay?”
“Oh dear,” I say. I don’t want to hear anymore.
M knows I am planning a trip to Thailand and goes on to recommend me other clubs in Bangkok. I have yet to tell him we have changed our plans and are going to Krabi instead.
We arrive at the gardens at 8am and begin to run. We run for barely 15 minutes when M exclaims, “Oh crap, we have to go.”
I stop, panting. “What? Where are we going?”
“The nasi lemak place.”
“What nasi lemak place?” I ask.
“In Pulau Tikus, and they’re usually sold out by 9am.” He is already walking towards the car.
“Get out of the car!”
He drives really quickly and as we are approach the shop, we see a queue. We can see the nasi lemak uncle scraping at his rice pot.
“Oh my God, it’s gonna finish! Get down! Get down!” M shouts.
“What??” I shout back.
Our car is waiting at the lights on the opposite side of the road, but M hurries me out the door.
“Get down and tell him two nasi lemaks, one with extra fish and sambal (chilli),” he barks.
I quickly and obediently open the car door and cross the road towards the nasi lemak uncle. M rolls down his window and shouts from across, “Extra fish and sambal!” I give him a thumbs up. He turns the corner and looks for a driving space while I order.
“He wasn’t selling out yet,” I say when he walks coolly into the shop. “Where did you park the car?”
“Over there,” he points.
“We’re not gonna get a ticket there, right?” I ask cautiously.
“Nah, it’s Tuesday morning,” he says.
Our nasi lemaks arrive and we eat in silence. I am laughing inside because what had just happened was too funny. We certainly didn’t come out this morning to run, but to eat.