After 2 uncharacteristically mellow days, a monsoon in Shanghai, and a day at the office in Hangzhou, it was high time that we got out of the hotel, away from the office, and really, seriously engage in some intense binge drinking. Of course this is all to take place over "Business Dinner" with Mr. Ju, Joe, his wife Xiao Li, Prosser, Carrie to translate Joe, Kelly to translate Carrie, and last, and certainly least, Me! (somehow Shasta was able to opt out of this international assault on one's liver for the 2nd year in a row). Without out my wife there to referee this consumption match, I was done for from the get-go.
Don't be fooled by the casual appearance of the 29 check marks that denote our wine consumption, or the 7 tacit lines that symbolize the beers we each drank at dinner.
In china you don't get to sit back, relax, and enjoy 36 mellow drinks at your own pace. Not with the people we do business with at least. It is actually a pretty rad 'ceremonial-like' custom that one must follow while getting piss-face drunk at the dinner table.
It goes something like this: Intimidating 50 year old Chinese Businessman in dressed in formal suit and tie stands up and with drink in hand, he zeros in on skinny, 27 year old american disaster, soon to be wearing only jeans as t-shirts get ripped right off when you drink this poison. Next, Mr. Ju makes sure my glass of red wine is full to the brim, then in a very traditional and respectful manner, he says something along the lines of "may we have many years of great business and friendship" or maybe it was "you are fucked! drink pussy! see you in hell, lightweight bitch." either way, we each take a slight bow, utter (or scream depending on how many drinks it has been) Gambe' (roughly translates to cheers or good luck) then chug what resembles a mixture of grape juice and diesel fuel as fast as possible.
Upon completion we each take another bow as we present the empty glass held at an angle to verify that its all gone. It is a sign of mutual admiration and respect, of appreciation, and sacrifice. When someone stands up, praises you, and fills his cup, if you don't fill your glass to the same level, with the same toxic fluid, and down the whole dirty mess as fast as he does, without passing out, puking, or spilling a drop, you are literally insulting him in front of everyone. It is like saying that he is not worthy of chugging hot red wine with me, or he is not worth my full, concentrated efforts at drinking myself into black-out city.
The only problem with this tradition is that there is nothing that dictates, or even hints at how you behave with all this lightning surging down your spine, clouding your judgement, and numbing the senses. In my case, there is no telling what will happen next, but one thing is certain...watch out!
Unfortunately this warning was not passed on to the waitress who found herself directly in front of me, the closed doors to our private dining room, and...the fire extinguisher i was aiming directly at her face, pin pulled, handled squeezed, and in an instant our waitress and everything else in the room, looked like they had just been sprayed with a fire extinguisher. (note: this was after a mere 14 drinks...not even halfway to hell)
My next display of complete and utter lack of self control while under the influence of mass quantities of alcohol came in the form of a 22oz glass bottle of Bud Ice that I broke over my head at the dinner table.
Finally, the night ended as i walked into the hotel lobby, proceeded to throw my wallet on the ground, kick off my shoes in the lobby, jump into the elevator, and as i approached my door, before shasta could ask the rhetorical question of 'are you wasted?' i fell over, tearing my right meniscus (i had partially torn it the last week of may in mammoth). then i puked all over my bed, the floor, my backpack, dvd player. everywhere but in the bucket my wife had placed right by my head. the end.
quick side note before i get into the exploits of hong kong, our 1 year anniversary, one of the greatest weekends of my life: prosser hates a good time, all night parties, Columbian beauties,
and thus felt obligated to return home without adding a notch in his belt courtesy of HK. 
