15 Short Stories From Houston

1. My colleagues and I were confused tricked into going to Houston Downtown on a Sunday morning to discover the wonders of witnessing businesses in a period of synchronized inactivity (except for a pathetic little doughnut shop that closes at 12noon) AND the joys of establishing suicidal acquaintances with homeless beings bearing various unidentifiable bags of belongings in frantic search of loose change and the last few sips of alcoholic beverages from disposed cans in rubbish bins AND the pleasures of sharing stories of life-changing moments while seated in a circle in the middle of the road and marveling at street scenes that are COMPLETELY devoid of any sort of touristy events.

2. I bought an egg from the Contemporary Arts Museum that, when partially cracked on its top and watered, will grow from within its content, a selection of plants that could survive up to a period of five months.



3. I was booted from a cab once as a result of an extensive yet futile search for the Natural Science Museum, which is supposed to be one of the eight tourist attractions in Houston. Once again, the 30922 restaurants and their accompanying free car parks in town are NOT to be mistakenly regarded as tourist attractions.

4. My teammate and I, on numerous occasions soon after we arrived, exchanged a few rounds of contentious speech acts (aka Arguments), leading to a temporary working relationship and communication meltdown that lasted for 2 weeks (aka Except for some unintelligible grunts and sighs, there were absolutely NO verbal exchanges despite us sharing cubicles, meetings, meals, walking tours and the occasional cab rides together).

5. One evening, I embarked on a frenzied Instant Noodle cooking marathon in my room as a result of inconsistent value propositions on food packaging versus customer’s experience and failed microwave-related experiments. Casualties, which were reported within ten minutes of each other, involved five packs of instant noodles from assorted regions and flavours, seven teriyaki meatballs and two spicy chicken wings. Post-traumatic symptoms included an extensive period of appetite loss and MSG-packed breath that lasted for three days.



6. That trusty microwave, in yet another faithful evening, bore witness to one more experiment, this time due to a sudden crave for chocolate-dipped strawberries. Casualties this round involved one bottle of Hershey’s syrup (promptly discarded after the discovery of better alternatives), one bar of Hershey’s chocolate (burnt and discarded due to a mixture of inexperience in handling microwave settings and over enthusiasm) and finally one full pack of Hershey’s kisses (melted progressively on intervals of 10 seconds in the microwave and finally SUCCESS!).

7. While wandering around Hermann Park during Japan Fest, I discovered that gastronomically gifted Western girls dressed in tight black spandex wear sweating it out on taiko (Japanese traditional drum) are supposedly the IN thing now in Houston, and so are lesbian couples in Japanese tea ceremony, saggy breasts or otherwise.

8. I had dinner one evening with a friendly gay manager from my company, who, through some twisted coincidental chains of events (otherwise known as fate) fished out this blog from among the 17,980 (and growing) gay KL blogs out there, then somehow theorized that the blogger works in the same company as him, and then concluded, with ample divine intervention, that I am the blogger AND THEN, with full confidence and utmost courage, confronted the author himself, via the company mail system, into the inevitable confession. I soon found myself in the company of three more queer colleagues and their partners whose company I absolutely enjoyed. Thanks for the warm err.. exposure, Eric!

9. Four weeks after my arrival, I have managed to collect an assortment of photos of cute Asian men (in a surprisingly high frequency of occurrences all over town) in my camera thanks to self-taught yet nevertheless professional skills in spy photography, but I had to DELETE THEM ALL when a wicked colleague decided that he absolutely have to see all the wonderful photos that I have captured on my camera without any delay. I hate straight people.

10. My bed buddies have been as diverse, if not more, as the err.. meals that I’ve had. Though I’d love to believe that this was brought about by the overzealous attempts to flee from my boredom, and that deep down I could only be totally fulfilled by an Asian guy.

11. I waited a full month and a half before visiting Midtowne Spa again, that dreadful bathhouse where guys with semi-erect cocks walk around naked, or lie wanking on the bed in their private cubicles with the door ajar, or pose invitingly with their legs open ‘kangkang’ waiting for eager suitors to dominate them. I find that rather crude. It’s really no fun minus all the playful eyeing, hunting, and escaping, which even though frusfrating at times, are totally necessary for the ultimate climax.

12. I spent two hours chatting online with a guy who confessed at the end that he absolutely enjoys fucking watermelon. I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, but the last time I checked myself in the mirror, I don’t look like a rounded cockmouth-watering juicy fruit.

13. Due to a strange but perfectly natural intolerance of my throat to plain water, I resorted to drinking flavoured green tea as the most preferred alternative after my arrival, and have since shockingly concluded that a steady diet of this beverage will cause your faeces to turn green (rather coated in a layer of green stuff) after the fourth week.

14. Just last week, in a faithful realization of Jay’s observation, a 73yo grandmother became the proud winner of a USD23mil casino jackpot and during an interview with a CNN reporter, announced that she had received two marriage proposals since the news broke. What has this got to do with me, you asked? Well nothing, except that I did spend a couple of minutes pondering the most enlightening contrast of gleaming new cash notes on weak, shriveled fingers.

15. I met a Thai guy one night (yeah, one of those rare ones here) who got so freaked out by how well I speak Thai that no explanations would settle his suspicion that I’m really one of his kind and just not admitting it. I had to show my identity card at the end before he would even touch me, that was after he did a quick check around the room for hidden cameras and potentially murderous objects like typewriters, high heel shoes and stunt guns.