High on speed

Went to Laundry Bar yesterday night – more like finally, after having my interest piqued when throngs of people seem to visit that place. It’s a name I seemed to hear from tons of ‘happening’ youths every now and then, and when the opportunity presented itself in the form of supporting Angela’s group project/event PHUNK (Project Hospis Understanding N Kare), charity-related, I deliberated if I should go.

Which I did.

Had one of the best Italian dinner over at Cafe 1920, despite the slightly high price for us college students (RM22+ for my olive oil-infused Turkey Ham and Broccoli, including a RM4.50 iced apple tea). I’d definitely go again.

After spending a couple of hours there, I can safely disregard it and not visit there ever. A bar that plays club music is a huge no-no by my books – all I want is a comfortable, relaxing environment with perhaps jazz played on low volumes to chill and drink, and not loud intrusive techno/trance beats that annoyed the heck out of me.

Joe, Shawn, and two goodie bags.

There were plenty of Nigerian waiters for some reason.

Not in the picture is Andy and Joe.

We didn’t have enough seats as we were late, so had to sit outside while listening to performing bands from afar (though we also met Pui Yan and her friends there). TBH I thought it was odd to do a charity event at a.. bar. >_>

Think I’ll stop drinking over here – far too expensive a habit to sustain unless I’m in some tax-free haven, such as Langkawi, or when I was in Cambodia and Vietnam. Almost RM20 per person for a glass? Uh huh.

We also went to some mamak in SEA Park after that at about 11pm that Shawn led us to for its supposedly ‘best fried chicken’.

On the way back in Joe’s blue Honda Civic I was treated to a real ride – blasting down the highway at 120-140, windows wound down, wind tasting of carbon monoxide and various other pollutants rushing in and out, the feeling of being carefree sweeping down my hair along with the wind, I enjoyed every minute of it.

Joe leaning back, doing 120 with one hand.

Suppose you might say I’m an adrenaline junkie of some sort – for some reason I’d be ecstatic, procured by (somewhat illegal and dangerous) high-speed travelling down the highway. You won’t see me driving at the same speed because I’ve never quite trusted my own driving at such a reckless speed – but for some reason I’d safely trust others’ instead.

I’ve enjoyed a ride with my sole best collegemate, Bryan Chong (who has since left for work) – doing 160 to 180 from Genting back to Subang. At the speed we were flying, it’s as if we were screaming rebellion to others—and just to feel the speed and the complete inertia it takes you, it’s like one of the best feelings in the world. It reeks of careless abandon, carefree, and of risks and dangers, but that can quite easily be my high.