Confession

I have a confession to make. But I will not bare it until this entry is complete. The other night, as I sat in the Kempinski beer garden, one 50 kuai homebrew in me, my eyes start to wander. The Kempinski is a bit upscale place – for a beer garden that is – and one of the attractions is the beautiful women who come there. There is something about a stunning woman with a half liter draft in one hand and a sausage in the other that does wonders for my disposition. On this particular night, I spot two girls that I fancy. One straight ahead of me, and one to my right at about 15 degrees. We form the perfect triangle, or so I fantasize. I try to figure out which men they are with. The one straight ahead is at a table with another woman and two men. No one seems super friendly; maybe they are real couples. The one to my right has a young buck next to her but they do not seem like a couple. He seems more like a watchdog. My wife, sitting at my side, is aware of my wandering eyes and finds it harmless, if slightly annoying. The one straight ahead of me gets up and walks right past me. Too tall, I think. So I settle on the one to the right, really find her cute, and notice that she is not afraid to look at me. While my wife is in the restroom we exchange a few glances. "Hey, friend, ni hao!" I hear. No, it's not that voice. It's about a 45 year old man who I didn't notice before but is sitting in between me and the girl. I smile at him, he's clearly drunk. He thought I was looking at him, I guess. He says to me, "Hey, join us." I smile, and say sure, and slide our small table next to his. He has three comrades, all fit men in their mid 40s, with him. He asks me where I'm from, I tell him. He says he can tell that I am always happy. I mutter that he's a damn fool. He wants to drink more so he buys a round of 100 kuai drafts for the table, myself included. At this point my wife returns, whispers that I am about as close as I will get to the one I fancy, and sits down. My wife has the advantage of speaking Chinese and also the advantage of understanding what is not said. She quickly ascertains that the friendly man has a military position of some importance. His friends at the table try to deflect the conversation a little. The one at my right, with gray sideburns, tells me he flew to Chicago two days after 9/11 which I thought no one did. We drank and toasted each other. At one point my wife let them know it was really the cute girl who caught my eye. This causes the friendly man to call her by name and invite her to the table. She was a bit embarrassed but sat with us a bit, only to get up and go inside to listen to the band. At the end of the night, the friendly man had to be talked into leaving by his friends. He paid for the entire bill, including what we had before knowing him. I watch them all leave, including the girl, and wonder who she is with, not wanting to face the truth. I turned to my wife and said, "that girl was damn cute". So, here is my confession: I read magazines from back to front. Why? It's safer than books.