In retrospect, that last bottle of champagne on Saturday night was a bad idea, but finding an unopened, chilled bottle of Dom in Karachi is so damn’ difficult that I simply couldn’t pass up the offer.<\/p>\n\n
I did however manage to pass right the hell out.<\/p>\n\n
And now I’m still not sure why I have rope burns on my wrists, nor why my underwear seems to have mysteriously gone missing, and most importantly, why I’m trapped in a room without any minimalist furniture, wall-decorations other than a Mr. Kabaddi<\/a> 2004<\/em> calendar, and a laptop perched on what seems to be a vertically placed dhol<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n Ah yes. I wondered what the Mutineers were doing at that party over at the Sind Club, but oddly enough at the time, I was too busy shaking my groove thang with Anna and marvelling at her ability to inhale Black & Coke by the litre to really pay attention to the ropes and chains that Vinod was trying (with a fair amount of success, mind you) to hide behind his back. I suppose the words “You know, we’ve never had a gay Pakistani on SM yet” should have been a marginal clue as to the direction the evening was going to take, but at the time it just seemed like such an innocent, simple expression of fact.<\/p>\n\n And now I’m trapped in a sparsely under-decorated room with absolutely no Aveda products of any kind, and I don’t even know the mailing address for this place, otherwise I’d have re-decorated the entire bunker by now. Which is probably for the best now that I think about it.<\/p>\n\n On the plus side, I think I see the t-shirt Ex-Intern Neel<\/a> was wearing lying on the floor, so there may yet be hope for this location.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In retrospect, that last bottle of champagne on Saturday night was a bad idea, but finding an unopened, chilled bottle of Dom in Karachi is so damn’ difficult that I simply couldn’t pass up the offer. I did however manage … Continue reading