Past midnight in Geylang

126 Sims Avenue is the best place to get dim sum after hours because the food is hot, the waitstaff prompt, the cold drinks come in little plastic tubs with ice and rock sugar, and the char siew baos break open to reveal steaming hot meat filling within light-enough-to-float buns. The deep-fried yam balls keep BoKo coming back for more and even newbie tourists just need to point at pictures to order.

Last night, the airconditioned interior of the restaurant was full, so we found ourselves at a table by the road --- very Southeast Asian, though not at all typically Singaporean. A souped-up blue beng-mobile pulled up next to us, with two names (we assumed they were the drivers') and blood types engraved on the rear right window. While we tried to recall from the dregs of biology lessons how one's blood type affects one's offspring, a guy a few tables away sauntered up to the driver's window, took a wad of something from the driver, and sauntered back to his seat to make some phone calls while the car sped off. Placing a bet? Closing a deal? Saved from surprising his female companion with an empty wallet? We'll never know.

Minutes later, a woman in a very short white skirt and very long high-heeled white boots tottered across the road, prompting a pity "Ow" from one of us. I'm still undecided whether it was the "just had sex" gait or "these boots are killing me" limp. On our way back to the car after supper, Terz got propositioned by a short woman in a loud green top and fled to my side for refuge. Seeing as the proposition was something along the lines of, "Hey, want a baby?" in Mandarin, I don't blame him one bit.

Amidst all this, Wahj somehow managed to recollect the love theme from Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. He's uncanny, I tell you.


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