Tuesday

The St. Patrick's Day office party was yesterday afternoon. The sun set while we stood around drinking the traditional beers: Tiger, a Singaporean lager brewed locally, and the confusingly named Amber Stout. By "traditional" I mean that we have these two beers at every office party, not that they share any relationship with those occasions on which we have them. Here's a boring tale of prosaic tediousness: I was to meet Sunshine at four fifteen. After four already, I ran out the door and waited for the damn elevator only to discover I'd forgotten my phone, which was ringing back in the apartment. It was Sunshine asking if I was there yet. The elevator finally arrived while I was inside retrieving my phone, so I had to press the button again. Ten minutes later, halfway to the party by foot, I realized I'd forgotten the badge I needed to get into it; so I had to walk back to the damn house past all of the sidewalk vendors and moto-taxi pushers I'd just denied. They waved happily. Back upstairs, I located my badge and began waiting on the elevator. Again. Only to be called back into the apartment by Vuy, the housekeeper, who needed me to sign some paperwork. The elevator arrived while I was inside. Again. So I waited again, again. If we weren't fourteen floors up I'd have used the stairs, but that actually takes longer than waiting once. When the elevator finally arrived this time, it was full of ladders and maintenance men. So I stood there, smiling, waiting for the doors to shut, before I could finally press the down button one more time. By now it was already four thirty, but I made it to the street eventually. And, eventually, to the beer. [Cavin]