The time between changing trains has been wisely spent playing a boggle word search type game on my boyfriend's iPhone, to mild success of distraction. The man standing beside us with too much Old Spice helped a bit as a diversion from our traveling, I'll remember to thank him if I ever see him again... yes, I do expect strange, somewhat affronted facial expressions when I do.
Its taken us over an hour but finally we've arrive... time to get smashed at our first night at Singaporean clubbing!
We arrive at our friends and quickly have to sign a permission slip to enter the building at the parking garage guard station, a bulky Indian man and his much older Asian companion who doesn't move from his chair. Both smell of sour sweat, having to sit so long in full gear and uniform, I can't fault their hygiene. After all, two men walking up to the post with a case of beer at the sundown could sound like a bad, Die Hard-esque movie just waiting to happen.
Upon collecting our friends, its now another vehicle hauling along our group, a cab driving us to... a club called the Buttery Factory... don't ask me why the hell its called that... I asked everyone but not a single one could offer me anything but a giggling shrug of confusion.
While still trying to wrap my head around this oddly named club, I nearly trip over my feet when I realize we've arrived in Marina Sands, the most iconic place in all of Singapore. What does this water-front boardwalk have that makes it possibly the most recognizable place in all of Singapore, possibly the world... that would be the grand Marin Bay Sands.
This 55-story casino is three giant towers rising into the air, holding up the Sands SkyPark, a hectare of open air land known for holding the largest elevated swinging pool in the world, well known for its infinity edge, the pool literally pours into oblivion.
My view however is blocked as we queued up to the club, or as all the signs say in Singapore "Please Q-Up" and to add to our confusion of the Butter Factory it appears tonight's theme is under the sea. It has to be one of the few places where Halloween is taken seriously. From bouncers to hostesses to organizers are dressed up as fish, mermaids and everything under the waves. It's always fascinating to see an organizer check your group into its table while trying to balance a full fish-head costume on his shoulders.
Inside the... Butter Factory's Undersea-themed party... the music is both an odd mix of American pop, a sprinkling of K-Pop and even a few remixed... including "Surfin' Bird" or as most people know it thanks to Family Guy's Peter Griffin "The Bird is the Word"... Google that I'll wait... fine, your now distracted by a kitten wearing sunglasses... we will have to continue on without you then.
Waiters serve drinks dressed as sharks, a merman in a skin suit (or a green S&M outfit, couldn't tell it was dark) welcomed guests at the door and foam masks are being handed out like candy to the club goers, a few of the more inebriated ones gleefully wearing them over their fashionable club going outfits.
The clothes worn are no different then what you'd see in New York, though even in the hot weather of Singapore you still see people out in jeans, knee-length dresses and long-sleeve shirts. Its as if the heat doesn't even register. Though a mid-afternoon storm did help to cool down the air, I can still feel the pricking sweat running down the back of my knees and that sticky feeling of your shirt getting stuck to your lower back.
We sit down to our table, said to seat twenty but after getting six of us on it, all the cushions have been filled and we've physically squeezed together in a way no friend should. I find the music a bit predictable and the drinks are not exotic or surprising, so I guess that's what causes my eyes to start wandering and observing the surroundings. Don't roll your eyes! I may not appear so now but I've been tempered and jaded to clubs and party life. I went through my clubbing phase, with such gusto and insanity that it would make the Jersey Shore's collective stomachs flip. Imagine the combination of an MTV Spring Break Special, mixed with the a splash of the raunchier bits of Showtime's Queer as Folk and toss in some cursing and nudity, plus a bit of random and confusing plots courtesy of HBO. Now compress all this into the span of only two years with no breaks, pauses or rehab and you can wonder why I'm barely on speaking terms with my liver anymore.
I'm trying to find something to catch my attention, save for attempting to hear my friends talk over the sound of the music, though our conversations quickly devolve into shouting spit into each other's ears. It's then that I look outside, maybe to catch another glance at the architectural wonder of Marina Sands Casino (so sue me, I'm an amateur architecture buff). Our table is right at the angle where the corner of the building blocks our view. Disappointed I let my eyes wander and then I notice the sidewalks... the sidewalks and broadwalks that aren't crowded with club goers and bar hoppers, but everyday people, predominately people pushing strollers or walking hand in hand with tiny, waddling children.
It's almost midnight and parent's are out taking their kids for a stroll.
I comment at this, more to myself because it is so unbelievable that someone would be out and about at this hour, the usual time that drunken stumbles and falls dominate the sidewalks. A friend happens to overhear me, I'm a bit buzzed on watered down beer so I can barely remember who it was, or even if she was in our group of friends.
"It's too hot in the day to go out," she said, splashing her drink a bit on me but I'm as bad so I don't notice. "When the sun goes down, that's when people come out to play."
And she's right. The sun in Singapore is glaring, usually in a cloudless sky that is only marred by the blitzing fast thunder storms. When walking down the street you last only minutes before the heat or the humidity has you in its talons and your sweating buckets. Its normal to see people detouring the long way around a park, just to stay in the shade, as if they are playing a game of 'Hot Lava' like we did when we were kids. If they are skirting around the edges of a tree's shadow, its normal to see people (mostly women but I've seen a few older men too) to carry an umbrella as a shield against the hot ball of roaring hydrogen in the sky.
The experience is somewhat surreal in itself, though that feeling could be from the combination of beer, whiskey and champagne... which at one point is being all consumed together in the same glass. The end result is a laughing stumble home and my great approval of my first night out clubbing in Singapore.
Update: I've established that my boyfriend's father is an evil genius in the morning, after he started playing country yodeling at stereo-surround sound levels... to the great horror of my hang-over stricken brain.
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