.... It's the Devil's Drink!
Posted: 14 Apr 2004, 18:21
There is a lager in the Philippines called Red Horse Beer. Allegedly it is so potent it "makes you not give a f-ck about anything!"
It really is shocking. It tastes foul and even has an appalling aroma.
It has nothing to do with 'beer satisfaction' and all that crap. It is only for getting blitzed quickly. This I like. Try it sometime.
Below appears one foolhardy drinkers woeful recollection of a night under the Red Horse influence. Don't read it alone!
DRINK RED HORSE BEER... IT'S THE DEVIL'S DRINK ! , or so said the sign promoting the Philippines' most notorious drop, Red Horse, a beer so potent it can scare the pants off the most committed imbiber of alcoholic beverages.
"Drink Red Horse, huh?", I thought as I left my hotel room and wandered down the street to find a quiet tavern to sample a Red Horse coldie in. Why not, I thought. Give it a try - just this once. After all, it was my last night in Manila and I had no idea when I might find myself in the Philippines again.
On the corner, I spotted a bar that looked deserted. Once inside, however, I discovered the place to be almost packed - surprising considering its quiet exterior and the fact that it was the middle of the day, still hours from evening.
Little did I know upon entering the bar that my innocent quest for a 'sample beer' would end in a delirious state of drunken debauchery spent amidst some of Manila's most run-down establishments - of which there is certainly no shortage.
The oppressive Philippines heat was being made worse by the crush of people in the bar. There was barely room to move and most of the crowd appeared to be on the Red Horse. The warmth was adding to the prevalent "good booze weather" attitude, encouraging a drinking session spectacularly unlike those experienced in any other part of the world.
I made my way over to the counter and caught the eye of the barmaid. She grinned a knowing smile as I ordered what was to become the first of many Red Horse Beers in a long, hellish day and even longer, more grueling and hellish evening.
Seeing the bar-girl's friendly smile made me feel like one of the in-crowd, a visitor with more than just superficial "local knowledge". Indeed, perhaps drinking Red Horse was the mark of a visitor accustomed to real life in the Philippines.
Most of the drinkers were captivated by the rather lurid manner of the girls performing the stage show. The MC, in a black bikini, held a big microphone in her hand and addressed the audience between directing the dancing girls.
Even the slightest recognition from her was enough to get the crowd going.
"... Are you... having a... GOOD... TIME... ?!?" she asked at one point, causing the entire audience to cheer and applaud, beers raised skywards. "f**k yeah!" responded a drinker to my side, obviously well under the Red Horse Influence even by that time - approximately 1.20 in the afternoon.
My own first mouthful of Red Horse was, in fact, uneventful enough. I downed the bottle slowly, its effects almost unnoticeable. I got talking to a few fellow travelers, mostly sunburnt Aussies who'd done a fair bit of roving and had an interesting story or two to tell.
Soon I was onto my second Red Horse, contemplating its differences compared to other less infamous drops. Slowly it began to exert an influence; a feeling of relaxation came over me that soon transformed into a care-free jocularity, an urge to laugh uninhibitedly, to act impulsively and unreservedly.
"So this is Red Horse", I thought out loud as my third bottle was downed. I watched the girls up on the stage. I ordered a fourth - I was beginning to get a taste for it...
Without a doubt, the fourth, for me, was the turning point - like a vehicle stuck in a bog, my movements became sluggish and a little out of control. By that time, however, I was beyond caring. I was in a state of bliss, enjoying the booze, the women and the talk amongst the travelers.
An overwhelming desire to get pissed had come over me. I'd developed a taste for the Red Horse well and good. A rapport and common thread was running through the crowd - we shared a link as travelers - and drinkers as well, as it turned out.
It was almost four o'clock and the heat of the day showed no sign of letting up. The Red Horse was flowing thick and fast; The barmaid continued smiling, the girls continued dancing and by now the MC was topless.
I grabbed another Red Horse. "This is the life..."
By 6pm I was well under the influence. I had to leave the bar for a bite to eat. I'd been boozing-on for almost five hours.
Over-priced pizza from Shakey's seemed to be the only offering within a reasonable stumbling distance. I spotted a couple of familiar faces from the hotel I was staying at, a worn-out 'pension house' of the type the Philippines is so full of, and they had also been boozing the Red Horse Shuffle. The bright lights of Shakey's soon became too much for our dizzy eyeballs and we made a quick exit after scoffing our 'nourishment'.
We found another bar, a rooftop place, to have a Red Horse at. My acquaintances seemed interesting enough, despite looking like a couple of strung-out rough-nuts, and I thought having some company might be a good idea considering that the evening ahead stretched out before me like a journey into the unknown, a hazy mirage whose murkiness became almost tactile as our obliging barmaid cracked open the next round of Red Horse...
It was time to get loose... a great track was blaring out of the juke box in the corner as I eyed my surroundings. No dancing girls.
My thoughts began drifting. Why Red Horse was unknown outside the Philippines was beginning to intrigue me; if Filipino merchants were astute then this, surely, would be seen as a beer with a wider appeal.
I took a long drag on my herbal cigarette as I pondered the Red Horse Equation. A magnificent sunset was happening over Manila Bay. I leaned back in my chair and chuckled.
My acquaintances were relating a tale of woe regarding a journey they'd recently taken through Brunei, a place where there was no booze of any type, let alone Red Horse. Their heart-wrenching tale could only be cured one way - with another Red Horse coldie. Our friendly Filipino barmaid voiced no objections...
The bar we were in was sedate compared to the loose rowdiness of the previous 'establishment'. Despite the low-key atmosphere of our newfound surroundings, we were on the verge of being unstoppable and it was a wondrous experience. Nothing could phaze us in the mind-bending headspace we now occupied - which is probably just as well; things were hotting up in sultry downtown Metro Manila. In fact, we were on fire...
We decided to make a move to a place a little more in tune with the expanded 'consciousness' we had moved into. We knew we could handle just about anything the city threw at us. We licked our lips in anticipation and headed for the door, our movements by this stage no doubt closely resembling those of a couple of "Thunderbirds" characters.
By now, Metro Manila was abuzz with the crowds, the noise, the sights and sounds of its bustling night life. Our thirst was inextricably linked to the sweaty atmosphere, a sweltering aura which the city seemed to heave into our faces every step we took.
We found a place near Rizal Park, Jungle Jim's Booty Bar, a run-down joint with a big Red Horse sign over the door. "This is us, boys" I commented as we sauntered in. I took a leak then headed for the bar to order the next round.
The crowd seemed a little more local, there were less of the travelers we'd seen along the way, not that we cared; by this stage we were ripped, caught-up in the ephemeral obsessions that characterize every after-dark reveller's train of thought.
I pictured myself as a modern-day Robinson Crusoe, washed up on the shores of a desert isle in the harsh light of a sober day in a solitary, almost surreal, place awash in tides of foaming Red Horse.
We were seasoned travelers according to the drinkers in Jungle Jim's, who considered us worldly adventurers judging by the fact that we had found ourselves in their own private domain - and they were immensely impressed by the way we didn't flinch at the sight of the dregs and drop-outs, the deadbeats and the deranged that the city was throwing at us to test our resolve and our sense of globe-trotting adventure. We had taken the bull by the horns and were rapidly wrestling it to the ground. We were just about ready to dust our hands off, pick up our suitcases and saunter off into the sunset.
We continued the Red Horse Shuffle into the early morning at Jungle Jim's, awaiting the arrival of what we expected to be Manila's most intriguing characters; a different breed of person inhabits a true afterhours bar - they are the Long Shadows, the ones who arrive after the less hardened imbibers have hit the sack. It's during these haunted hours (the time at which a city is at its strangest, when traffic lights signal their commands to empty streets, when the hush of deepest, darkest evening is broken rarely, if ever) that the Long Shadows arrive, a people with an aura so different they can no longer inhabit any world that exists outside the hours of The Night Shift.
Our minds buzzed as we pondered the curiosity, the strangeness, the supreme majesty of life. We were peaking on a sense of pure pleasure and wonder, a mind-blowing intrigue heightened by the travel experience. We gazed upon the world through eyes that, only now, came anywhere near comprehending the overwhelming sense of wonder that life inspires.
We stood in the path of a life-experience that swirled around us so powerfully it could consume us like trees in the path of an unstoppable tornado. Somehow, despite that, it would do us no harm, and we knew it.
We were on the verge of the widest, deepest chasm imaginable and we felt more ready than we'd been for anything ever before.
It seemed our existence had transformed. Identities were of no importance. We were not who we had been up until this point in time; it was no longer necessary to be anything more than alive, the silent sentinels of the supreme majesty of life.
Words failed us. The experience was pressing upon our temples relentlessly. I looked about the room with eyes as wide and unblinking as an infant's, as fiery and glazed as a devil's and as impressionable as those of every explorer uncertain as to what lays in wait around every corner.
We ordered another round.
We pulled ourselves out of our silent contemplation, the emotion that had us swooning and swaying on our feet. It had had us in its grip, but the night was not over yet - and that meant there was more to be done...
Few things could possess the arousal factor of what the night now had in store for us - if we hadn't experienced enough already - but Jungle Jim's was clearly no place for the reticent.
We got talking to some Filipino chicks, suspiciously alone in such a place. They seemed to take our boggled minds effortlessly in their stride. No doubt they'd 'been there' themselves.
Conversation quickly hotted-up when we bought them a round of 'Horse and discussed their plans for the night. We knew we were in with a good chance and we took few risks in making sure things worked to our favor. The path between the bar, the Red Horse and the babes rose from the ether to present itself to us with a dazzling simplicity. We were on a winner...
Three bottles later, everything had taken on a crisp clarity that perplexed us considering our erstwhile state of bemused bewilderment. The girl I'd been chatting to had a place down the street. I left my companions at the bar, confident that they would find their appropriate place in the scheme of things as the evening's activities unfolded. Travelers' acquaintances tend to be fleeting and it seemed appropriate that we should part ways without looking back - tactfully going our own way, leaving little time for farewells. The best way to do it.
My petite Filipino partner, Lilana, wrapped her arm around my waist as we left. We walked to her house. I quietly shut the door behind us and leaned against it. She looked into my eyes as she swung around to meet my gaze.
We moved towards one another. Our tongues, somehow devilishly lengthened by the Red Horse, met with the forcefulness of two champion boxers. I slipped my shirt off as Lilana's hand slid down my body. "Get a load of this big beauty, babe", I whispered as I discovered a half-full bottle of Red Horse in the back pocket of my jeans. She took a quick swig as we tangoed towards her bed, clumsily undressing as we went. We bounced down onto the mattress and wrapped our fingers around one another.
We looked into one another's bewildered eyeballs. Strung-out to the max, our movements seemed to click, surprisingly, into an almost perfect sync, despite the mind-bending state we were in.
Our passions were barely cooled by the Red Horse. We physically exhausted one another and soon became anxious to replenish the Red Horse supplies we'd be needing if we were to maintain a truly whacked headspace. Nothing could replace that one vital ingredient that makes up the Red Horse Recipe.
Luckily, Lilana was prepared. A case of 'Horse was sitting in her fridge. Now I know it was not simple coincidence that she was in the Booty Bar.
"Who's Jungle Jim anyway?", I asked Lilana, partly thinking out loud. Her muted response gave little away, apart from the fact that she didn't seem to want to talk about him. Whoever he is or was, knowing that the Philippines was full of dodgy bar-owners, I chose not to persist with the question. Better, perhaps, to leave his identity as intangible as the experiences encountered in his Booty Bar.
We clambered up onto Lilana's roof, being sure to have the full Red Horse supply in tow. She playfully grabbed my butt as I tore the box of Red Horse open. "Suck on this, babe", I commented as I passed her another 375 ml ripper.
Before long, feeling fresh and fully invigorated, I was ready to hit the bar-rooms again. Lilana was fading fast, but I was still in search of an even greater Red Horse thrill. She and I were already going our separate ways.
I was wrecked. I could barely walk straight - not that I really wanted to. I was seeing double, triple, stumbling and tripping as I wandered across Rizal Park attempting to get my bearings.
I stumbled past the bar I'd had my first Red Horse in. I pushed the door open and dragged myself in, scraping past the drinkers captivated by the floorshow.
I stumbled towards the bar, sweating profusely, panting, gasping for breath as I disappeared behind wafts of smoke.
I slammed my fist down on the counter. "Red Horse!", I blurted out.
The barmaid wasted no time. She cracked open a foaming bottle and placed it in front of me. I gulped it down enthusiastically, the froth washing over my face as I held the bottle high, attempting to direct it straight into my thirsty gullet.
I downed the beer in record time and grabbed the barmaid. "More!", I demanded, "more Red Horse!"
I sank the bottle, oblivious to my surroundings. My brain was taking off at a rate of knots in a totally new direction. The room was thick with smoke, dry ice and flashing lights. I leaned against the bar. It had been a long night. I shook my head and took a long swig on the bottle. I swayed, unable to stand up straight.
I finished the bottle and ordered, almost incomprehensibly, another.
The bar was haywire, the crowd hooting with laughter as the night wore on. I took another long swig, swooning uncontrollably. The room was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. I hit the deck, the Red Horse rolling out of my hand as I lay there. I looked up at the mirror-ball on the ceiling as I ran my hand across the floor, searching for the bottle.
I pulled myself up. I could barely comprehend the MC's words echoing through my head from the loudspeakers that were turned to maximum volume between the disco songs the girls swayed to.
I pushed away from the bar. I took one last look around, my eyes aghast as I made a desperate dash for the door. I had to get out. I knew I would expire on the spot unless I escaped the mad-house the bar was obviously masquerading as. I fell against the door as it swung out into the street. I staggered out, my eyes almost popping out of my head as I attempted to regain control of my co-ordination.
I was bent beyond belief, my head spinning as I scanned the street. Perspiring by the bucket-load, I looked down the road trying to remember how far my hotel was. I was seeing triple and could make little sense of my surroundings. "Hey Joe!" a voice called out from somewhere. A jeepney van appeared out of nowhere and almost ran me over before it skittered off into the darkness.
I was terrified of attempting to estimate the number of beers I'd consumed during the course of the night. I almost walked past my hotel. I had to look at it three or four times, blinking with confusion, before being certain I'd found the right place.
I crawled up the stairs, pushed my door open, and fell towards my bed. I collapsed onto the mattress and rolled over onto my back. I looked upwards, the room spinning faster and faster. Somehow I was hovering over the bed. My vision was a blur. I groaned then landed back on the mattress with a thud. I closed my eyes, my head throbbing intensely. I took one last terrified look around the room and then passed out.
Eventually I was woken by the sound of a chamber maid rapping on the door. Hard sunlight streamed in the window, hurting my fragile eyeballs. A clock ticked on the wall. I'd been asleep for eleven hours.
I had to get my belongings together. I stuffed my things into my bag, sweating nervously. I made my way to the airport quickly and quietly, trying to recollect the murky remnants of my night on the 'Horse. I was responding the only way I knew how. The entire experience was all too much for my strung-out brainwaves. I was Checking Out, big time....
It really is shocking. It tastes foul and even has an appalling aroma.
It has nothing to do with 'beer satisfaction' and all that crap. It is only for getting blitzed quickly. This I like. Try it sometime.
Below appears one foolhardy drinkers woeful recollection of a night under the Red Horse influence. Don't read it alone!
DRINK RED HORSE BEER... IT'S THE DEVIL'S DRINK ! , or so said the sign promoting the Philippines' most notorious drop, Red Horse, a beer so potent it can scare the pants off the most committed imbiber of alcoholic beverages.
"Drink Red Horse, huh?", I thought as I left my hotel room and wandered down the street to find a quiet tavern to sample a Red Horse coldie in. Why not, I thought. Give it a try - just this once. After all, it was my last night in Manila and I had no idea when I might find myself in the Philippines again.
On the corner, I spotted a bar that looked deserted. Once inside, however, I discovered the place to be almost packed - surprising considering its quiet exterior and the fact that it was the middle of the day, still hours from evening.
Little did I know upon entering the bar that my innocent quest for a 'sample beer' would end in a delirious state of drunken debauchery spent amidst some of Manila's most run-down establishments - of which there is certainly no shortage.
The oppressive Philippines heat was being made worse by the crush of people in the bar. There was barely room to move and most of the crowd appeared to be on the Red Horse. The warmth was adding to the prevalent "good booze weather" attitude, encouraging a drinking session spectacularly unlike those experienced in any other part of the world.
I made my way over to the counter and caught the eye of the barmaid. She grinned a knowing smile as I ordered what was to become the first of many Red Horse Beers in a long, hellish day and even longer, more grueling and hellish evening.
Seeing the bar-girl's friendly smile made me feel like one of the in-crowd, a visitor with more than just superficial "local knowledge". Indeed, perhaps drinking Red Horse was the mark of a visitor accustomed to real life in the Philippines.
Most of the drinkers were captivated by the rather lurid manner of the girls performing the stage show. The MC, in a black bikini, held a big microphone in her hand and addressed the audience between directing the dancing girls.
Even the slightest recognition from her was enough to get the crowd going.
"... Are you... having a... GOOD... TIME... ?!?" she asked at one point, causing the entire audience to cheer and applaud, beers raised skywards. "f**k yeah!" responded a drinker to my side, obviously well under the Red Horse Influence even by that time - approximately 1.20 in the afternoon.
My own first mouthful of Red Horse was, in fact, uneventful enough. I downed the bottle slowly, its effects almost unnoticeable. I got talking to a few fellow travelers, mostly sunburnt Aussies who'd done a fair bit of roving and had an interesting story or two to tell.
Soon I was onto my second Red Horse, contemplating its differences compared to other less infamous drops. Slowly it began to exert an influence; a feeling of relaxation came over me that soon transformed into a care-free jocularity, an urge to laugh uninhibitedly, to act impulsively and unreservedly.
"So this is Red Horse", I thought out loud as my third bottle was downed. I watched the girls up on the stage. I ordered a fourth - I was beginning to get a taste for it...
Without a doubt, the fourth, for me, was the turning point - like a vehicle stuck in a bog, my movements became sluggish and a little out of control. By that time, however, I was beyond caring. I was in a state of bliss, enjoying the booze, the women and the talk amongst the travelers.
An overwhelming desire to get pissed had come over me. I'd developed a taste for the Red Horse well and good. A rapport and common thread was running through the crowd - we shared a link as travelers - and drinkers as well, as it turned out.
It was almost four o'clock and the heat of the day showed no sign of letting up. The Red Horse was flowing thick and fast; The barmaid continued smiling, the girls continued dancing and by now the MC was topless.
I grabbed another Red Horse. "This is the life..."
By 6pm I was well under the influence. I had to leave the bar for a bite to eat. I'd been boozing-on for almost five hours.
Over-priced pizza from Shakey's seemed to be the only offering within a reasonable stumbling distance. I spotted a couple of familiar faces from the hotel I was staying at, a worn-out 'pension house' of the type the Philippines is so full of, and they had also been boozing the Red Horse Shuffle. The bright lights of Shakey's soon became too much for our dizzy eyeballs and we made a quick exit after scoffing our 'nourishment'.
We found another bar, a rooftop place, to have a Red Horse at. My acquaintances seemed interesting enough, despite looking like a couple of strung-out rough-nuts, and I thought having some company might be a good idea considering that the evening ahead stretched out before me like a journey into the unknown, a hazy mirage whose murkiness became almost tactile as our obliging barmaid cracked open the next round of Red Horse...
It was time to get loose... a great track was blaring out of the juke box in the corner as I eyed my surroundings. No dancing girls.
My thoughts began drifting. Why Red Horse was unknown outside the Philippines was beginning to intrigue me; if Filipino merchants were astute then this, surely, would be seen as a beer with a wider appeal.
I took a long drag on my herbal cigarette as I pondered the Red Horse Equation. A magnificent sunset was happening over Manila Bay. I leaned back in my chair and chuckled.
My acquaintances were relating a tale of woe regarding a journey they'd recently taken through Brunei, a place where there was no booze of any type, let alone Red Horse. Their heart-wrenching tale could only be cured one way - with another Red Horse coldie. Our friendly Filipino barmaid voiced no objections...
The bar we were in was sedate compared to the loose rowdiness of the previous 'establishment'. Despite the low-key atmosphere of our newfound surroundings, we were on the verge of being unstoppable and it was a wondrous experience. Nothing could phaze us in the mind-bending headspace we now occupied - which is probably just as well; things were hotting up in sultry downtown Metro Manila. In fact, we were on fire...
We decided to make a move to a place a little more in tune with the expanded 'consciousness' we had moved into. We knew we could handle just about anything the city threw at us. We licked our lips in anticipation and headed for the door, our movements by this stage no doubt closely resembling those of a couple of "Thunderbirds" characters.
By now, Metro Manila was abuzz with the crowds, the noise, the sights and sounds of its bustling night life. Our thirst was inextricably linked to the sweaty atmosphere, a sweltering aura which the city seemed to heave into our faces every step we took.
We found a place near Rizal Park, Jungle Jim's Booty Bar, a run-down joint with a big Red Horse sign over the door. "This is us, boys" I commented as we sauntered in. I took a leak then headed for the bar to order the next round.
The crowd seemed a little more local, there were less of the travelers we'd seen along the way, not that we cared; by this stage we were ripped, caught-up in the ephemeral obsessions that characterize every after-dark reveller's train of thought.
I pictured myself as a modern-day Robinson Crusoe, washed up on the shores of a desert isle in the harsh light of a sober day in a solitary, almost surreal, place awash in tides of foaming Red Horse.
We were seasoned travelers according to the drinkers in Jungle Jim's, who considered us worldly adventurers judging by the fact that we had found ourselves in their own private domain - and they were immensely impressed by the way we didn't flinch at the sight of the dregs and drop-outs, the deadbeats and the deranged that the city was throwing at us to test our resolve and our sense of globe-trotting adventure. We had taken the bull by the horns and were rapidly wrestling it to the ground. We were just about ready to dust our hands off, pick up our suitcases and saunter off into the sunset.
We continued the Red Horse Shuffle into the early morning at Jungle Jim's, awaiting the arrival of what we expected to be Manila's most intriguing characters; a different breed of person inhabits a true afterhours bar - they are the Long Shadows, the ones who arrive after the less hardened imbibers have hit the sack. It's during these haunted hours (the time at which a city is at its strangest, when traffic lights signal their commands to empty streets, when the hush of deepest, darkest evening is broken rarely, if ever) that the Long Shadows arrive, a people with an aura so different they can no longer inhabit any world that exists outside the hours of The Night Shift.
Our minds buzzed as we pondered the curiosity, the strangeness, the supreme majesty of life. We were peaking on a sense of pure pleasure and wonder, a mind-blowing intrigue heightened by the travel experience. We gazed upon the world through eyes that, only now, came anywhere near comprehending the overwhelming sense of wonder that life inspires.
We stood in the path of a life-experience that swirled around us so powerfully it could consume us like trees in the path of an unstoppable tornado. Somehow, despite that, it would do us no harm, and we knew it.
We were on the verge of the widest, deepest chasm imaginable and we felt more ready than we'd been for anything ever before.
It seemed our existence had transformed. Identities were of no importance. We were not who we had been up until this point in time; it was no longer necessary to be anything more than alive, the silent sentinels of the supreme majesty of life.
Words failed us. The experience was pressing upon our temples relentlessly. I looked about the room with eyes as wide and unblinking as an infant's, as fiery and glazed as a devil's and as impressionable as those of every explorer uncertain as to what lays in wait around every corner.
We ordered another round.
We pulled ourselves out of our silent contemplation, the emotion that had us swooning and swaying on our feet. It had had us in its grip, but the night was not over yet - and that meant there was more to be done...
Few things could possess the arousal factor of what the night now had in store for us - if we hadn't experienced enough already - but Jungle Jim's was clearly no place for the reticent.
We got talking to some Filipino chicks, suspiciously alone in such a place. They seemed to take our boggled minds effortlessly in their stride. No doubt they'd 'been there' themselves.
Conversation quickly hotted-up when we bought them a round of 'Horse and discussed their plans for the night. We knew we were in with a good chance and we took few risks in making sure things worked to our favor. The path between the bar, the Red Horse and the babes rose from the ether to present itself to us with a dazzling simplicity. We were on a winner...
Three bottles later, everything had taken on a crisp clarity that perplexed us considering our erstwhile state of bemused bewilderment. The girl I'd been chatting to had a place down the street. I left my companions at the bar, confident that they would find their appropriate place in the scheme of things as the evening's activities unfolded. Travelers' acquaintances tend to be fleeting and it seemed appropriate that we should part ways without looking back - tactfully going our own way, leaving little time for farewells. The best way to do it.
My petite Filipino partner, Lilana, wrapped her arm around my waist as we left. We walked to her house. I quietly shut the door behind us and leaned against it. She looked into my eyes as she swung around to meet my gaze.
We moved towards one another. Our tongues, somehow devilishly lengthened by the Red Horse, met with the forcefulness of two champion boxers. I slipped my shirt off as Lilana's hand slid down my body. "Get a load of this big beauty, babe", I whispered as I discovered a half-full bottle of Red Horse in the back pocket of my jeans. She took a quick swig as we tangoed towards her bed, clumsily undressing as we went. We bounced down onto the mattress and wrapped our fingers around one another.
We looked into one another's bewildered eyeballs. Strung-out to the max, our movements seemed to click, surprisingly, into an almost perfect sync, despite the mind-bending state we were in.
Our passions were barely cooled by the Red Horse. We physically exhausted one another and soon became anxious to replenish the Red Horse supplies we'd be needing if we were to maintain a truly whacked headspace. Nothing could replace that one vital ingredient that makes up the Red Horse Recipe.
Luckily, Lilana was prepared. A case of 'Horse was sitting in her fridge. Now I know it was not simple coincidence that she was in the Booty Bar.
"Who's Jungle Jim anyway?", I asked Lilana, partly thinking out loud. Her muted response gave little away, apart from the fact that she didn't seem to want to talk about him. Whoever he is or was, knowing that the Philippines was full of dodgy bar-owners, I chose not to persist with the question. Better, perhaps, to leave his identity as intangible as the experiences encountered in his Booty Bar.
We clambered up onto Lilana's roof, being sure to have the full Red Horse supply in tow. She playfully grabbed my butt as I tore the box of Red Horse open. "Suck on this, babe", I commented as I passed her another 375 ml ripper.
Before long, feeling fresh and fully invigorated, I was ready to hit the bar-rooms again. Lilana was fading fast, but I was still in search of an even greater Red Horse thrill. She and I were already going our separate ways.
I was wrecked. I could barely walk straight - not that I really wanted to. I was seeing double, triple, stumbling and tripping as I wandered across Rizal Park attempting to get my bearings.
I stumbled past the bar I'd had my first Red Horse in. I pushed the door open and dragged myself in, scraping past the drinkers captivated by the floorshow.
I stumbled towards the bar, sweating profusely, panting, gasping for breath as I disappeared behind wafts of smoke.
I slammed my fist down on the counter. "Red Horse!", I blurted out.
The barmaid wasted no time. She cracked open a foaming bottle and placed it in front of me. I gulped it down enthusiastically, the froth washing over my face as I held the bottle high, attempting to direct it straight into my thirsty gullet.
I downed the beer in record time and grabbed the barmaid. "More!", I demanded, "more Red Horse!"
I sank the bottle, oblivious to my surroundings. My brain was taking off at a rate of knots in a totally new direction. The room was thick with smoke, dry ice and flashing lights. I leaned against the bar. It had been a long night. I shook my head and took a long swig on the bottle. I swayed, unable to stand up straight.
I finished the bottle and ordered, almost incomprehensibly, another.
The bar was haywire, the crowd hooting with laughter as the night wore on. I took another long swig, swooning uncontrollably. The room was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. I hit the deck, the Red Horse rolling out of my hand as I lay there. I looked up at the mirror-ball on the ceiling as I ran my hand across the floor, searching for the bottle.
I pulled myself up. I could barely comprehend the MC's words echoing through my head from the loudspeakers that were turned to maximum volume between the disco songs the girls swayed to.
I pushed away from the bar. I took one last look around, my eyes aghast as I made a desperate dash for the door. I had to get out. I knew I would expire on the spot unless I escaped the mad-house the bar was obviously masquerading as. I fell against the door as it swung out into the street. I staggered out, my eyes almost popping out of my head as I attempted to regain control of my co-ordination.
I was bent beyond belief, my head spinning as I scanned the street. Perspiring by the bucket-load, I looked down the road trying to remember how far my hotel was. I was seeing triple and could make little sense of my surroundings. "Hey Joe!" a voice called out from somewhere. A jeepney van appeared out of nowhere and almost ran me over before it skittered off into the darkness.
I was terrified of attempting to estimate the number of beers I'd consumed during the course of the night. I almost walked past my hotel. I had to look at it three or four times, blinking with confusion, before being certain I'd found the right place.
I crawled up the stairs, pushed my door open, and fell towards my bed. I collapsed onto the mattress and rolled over onto my back. I looked upwards, the room spinning faster and faster. Somehow I was hovering over the bed. My vision was a blur. I groaned then landed back on the mattress with a thud. I closed my eyes, my head throbbing intensely. I took one last terrified look around the room and then passed out.
Eventually I was woken by the sound of a chamber maid rapping on the door. Hard sunlight streamed in the window, hurting my fragile eyeballs. A clock ticked on the wall. I'd been asleep for eleven hours.
I had to get my belongings together. I stuffed my things into my bag, sweating nervously. I made my way to the airport quickly and quietly, trying to recollect the murky remnants of my night on the 'Horse. I was responding the only way I knew how. The entire experience was all too much for my strung-out brainwaves. I was Checking Out, big time....
The tongues part was rather ....LOL The staggering to hotel ...Poor guy. 
