Musing: Spanish Bar & The City

2015-07-07 22.47.23

My eyes were so tired but I still have an hour to kill. Waiting for your friend to leave so that you can meet up at a new Spanish bar in town can be challenging, because a) he can only leave at 7 pm and b) you will have to wait for him. I continue typing away until the guy next to me steered away from his mobile screen and asked for the second time, “are you almost finished?” Jesus, again. I texted my friend, “I got to leave now. They are kicking me out!”

The cab driver was quite talkative and the road was packed with drivers eager to start their Friday night. Living in a congested metropolitan city suck because time and distance is irrelevant; you can never predict them. “It should only take me ten minutes to reach the place,” I mumbled to myself. I looked around and saw the drivers’ weary faces inside their cars, some were playing with their phones and others were gazing through the night. After twenty minutes or so I reached my destination. Problem is, I have to cross the road to reach the building. I saw the long queue of cars on the other side, while I cross the road after 3 full minutes standing on the pavement and hoping no one would hit me. I am not paranoid. It has happened before.

The building’s entrance is narrow with half dry paint on the wall. I looked up at the sign, enter the elevator and hit the fifth floor button. As the elevator door opens, a grassy billboard welcomed me with por que no?’ writing on them. Head left and talked to the maitre d’ who ushered me to the open air corner. Hop on the stool and ordered a beer. It arrived in a cup because of the holiday, “Whatever the f this is.”

A group of trust fund kids behind me – shielded by the glass window – were celebrating one of their friend’s birthday, while other were busy chattering through their teeth. I took another sip of my beer in a cup and ordered small churros because I hate being tipsy early on. I looked straight ahead of what’s in front of me and feel bewildered by the scene. The city’s skyline and throng of cars below stuck on the road for hours heading to God knows where. “This city promises success and money. People fight for what they think they want each morning.”

I looked at the time and realised I have been sitting for half an hour. I thought of ordering another beer, but then my gaze goes back to the sky-crappers, night clouds and twinkling yellow lights vista. “The city actually looks beautiful tonight,” I suddenly mumbled under my breath. If one can look past the thick pollution roaming freely waiting to be inhaled. The sound of honks from the metallic cars from every directions, and of course the desperation in the air just because it’s Friday, the city sure does look pretty.


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