journals of LA

In the entire trip to the US, I got to spend 3 days in LA. Arrived in LA in the early afternoon, after an agonizing 26 hours flight, which includes transits at KL and Taipei. Saiful got stopped and was interrogated at the airport. The hardcase for my Microkorg came onto the conveyor belt without its handle. Sigh.. These are just the start of the hiccups of our entire US trip. The climate was great and it gave me the excuse to wear my hoodie, scarf and shades, without looking like a creature from outer space. Not knowing what to expect as it was my first trip to the US, we went down to YC’s place. We headed down to their guitar centre, after we had settled our luggage and equipment. When we got down to the guitar centre, all of us went to our different corners and we spent a good 2 hours in the store. As for myself, I was in keyboards wonderland. I got to touch and feel the real thing. The feeling? Amazing. What was it? The red, hot NORD 2!!

YC managed to get us into this closed-door artsy party, filled with tons of beautiful people and drinks to go around. Met some really nice people there. As it was our first night in LA, we decided to hit the strip joint. I have been to one in Thailand. It was bad-ass sleazy so I was hoping to see some real pole-dancers, just like the ones I had seen on TV. The flexibility, the agility, the nimbleness. However, It turned out to be my worst nightmare.

The boys picked a “Naked Girls Body Shop” place. The girls did work the pole more professionally than the ones I saw in Thailand. They swirled around the poles effortlessly, in their high heels. Here comes my nightmare. Some girls must think I am crazy to even want to step into a strip joint and to top that, I went into one with my boyfriend. To me, all those prancing naked women is just an act so it isn’t that big a deal if my boyfriend ogles at them. The job of these women is to tease and that should be what they do best. I wanted to buy a private dance for Khai cos his birthday was around the corner. The rest of the boys chipped in for his birthday treat, which turned out to be a trick for me. The assigned dancer came to us at our side of the counter, saw the money which we placed right infront of Khai, took off her bra, pressed his face to her breasts and started rubbing herself on his face. The motion was so vigorous that his glasses got fogged up. Where was I? Approximately 15cm away from that sight. I was traumatized cos I wasn’t expecting contact between the dancers and the customers. Oh well… My bad. A whisper of “Happy Birthday” and she moved on to another paying customer.

I wonder if it was my territorial instinct cos I felt extremely horrible and a tad of disgusted after that, no matter how the rest of the boys tried to wheedle me into thinking that I was the mastermind of the whole thing and that I allowed it to happen. Till now, that I am back in Singapore, liberal as I may be, that sight of his face buried in another woman’s breasts isn’t something I can just make it go away.