“-Just turn left at the next corner and you’ll see a cinema hall. Next to the cinema hall is a parking garage. Just go past the guards, and at the back of the garage you’ll see stairs. Go up the stairs and through the door on the second floor. It’s not difficult to find!”, says the front desk clerk at the hotel. And he’s right! I do find the bar, and it’s dark, smoky and crowded. Just the way I like it.
It’s my last night in Bangladesh and I’m beginning to really enjoy this country. It took me a few days, but now I’ve found good food, nice people and alcohol. What more does one need!?!
I order a beer at the counter. Next to me is the Regular Customer, the “functioning alcoholic”, who knows everyone and everything.
“-I come here every night!”, he says proudly.
“-I believe you!”
Like most Regulars in most bars, he is very nice. He owns a candy shop and offers me a cigarette. With all the dust in the air, I’ve been coughing since I got to this country; smoking one more won’t matter. We talk about Volvo and Swedish herring, you know: Things Important.
The waiters are dressed in white jackets and white pants. I guess it’s suppose to look elegant, but in the dim lighting they look more like hospital staff. I wanna yell “-Nurse, give me another one! And I’m still waiting for my sponge bath!”.
After paying his bill, The Regular pulls out a neatly folded document with his photo attached to it. The cashier stamps and signs it.
“-It’s my alcohol permit.”, he proclaims, “Everyone must have one to drink!”.
Except me, of course. I’m a foreigner.
On my way back to the hotel, I stop for some great lamb kebab with bread straight from the oven and a Pepsi. Life is good and I will have to come back to Bangladesh soon.
