The night I almost died in Singapore

That night I almost met them.It was a normal enough night for Charlie and I in Singapore at first. We were at a salsa club on Clarke Quay (a bar district in downtown Singapore). Charlie had bought a bottle of Absolut for the low low price of $171 SGD to celebrate his completion of some business in town and our planned escape from Singapore to Manila the next day. We were getting trashed and dancing salsa with Art Pfister, Charlie’s hot cool little Chinese-American yoga teacher, her Colombian cougar friend and a couple lesbians with potentially bisexual aspirations who were buying everyone $22 Patron shots every 15 minutes. I had planned to meet a New Zealand cougar there but she couldn’t make it I later learned due to a taxi accident on her way there. That cougar missing our date started a chain reaction of events that nearly culminated in my death on the sidewalk in Clark Quay that night.

When the cougar failed to show I started mass texting all my new buddies that I had met over the previous week. It didn’t take long until one of my new good buddies, Panino showed up. Panino is a super cool kid who is extremely well connected. We met on the beach the previous weekend along with our friend Clayton Wellington III, whose origins remain mysterious but judging from the $200,000 automobile and pound of gold jewelry he wears that he probably is a not unimportant figure. Charlie was very happy after having his own door opener friends helping him get into clubs and parties so many times to be able to say to the doorman, “He’s with me.”, and get someone else into a club in Singapore for a chnage, not knowing that that this super nice kid was one of the most connected people in the city and well known by everyone there. Panino wanted to go to a club called Zirca, so we left Charlie with his yoga teacher and tequila lesbians and headed over.

Zirca in Singapore is definitely a pretty happening club but that night it was absolutely jam packed with douchey daddy’s boys and the little gold diggers in training they inevitably have in tow. Hot [gold digging] girls, expensive drinks, douchey daddy’s boys – that’s Zirca in a sentence.

Panino is one connected dude but he isn’t like the typical douchebag in Zirca. It didn’t take long before we tired of the prick waiving dick fight of daddy’s boys trying to figure out who has more of their parents gold cards and who has a higher limit by buying stupid flamboyantly gay looking drinks. Panino suggested that we head on over to a Thai club in the area called Hollywood. That was fine by me – I’d had my fill of $13 thimble-sized beers and $25 flaming shots.

Hollywood was chock full of some of the hottest Thai girls I’d ever seen and lots of mafia types. The hottest Thai girls are not in Thailand, they’re in other richer places like Singapore. At Hollywood, Panino advised me not to talk to anybody. I tried to explain to him that one of my specialties is making friends with dangerous people but since he told me earlier that night at Zirca “Nobody can touch you here if you are friends with Clayton and I.”, I figured maybe he knows what he’s talking about. We were just enjoying the Thai band full of hot Thai girls and a reasonable [for Singapore] $35 jug of beer. I was telling Panino stories about my travels and how I usually spend my time in “dangerous” countries with “dangerous people” and that the only time I ever got into any real trouble was in the United States with some shit headed steroid infused bouncers with pea balls and raisin brains. Long story short they choked me unconscious and threw me down a flight of stairs, three of them weighing together about six times my body weight – fair fight huh?

Anyway as soon as I finished this story, ironically, a fight broke out in the Thai bar. If you want to know how Thais fight check out our article on Thailand. Now Hollywood is a big club and the fight was not that close to us but all of these little Thai fagsters were throwing bottles, glasses and anything else they could find all over the place. I kind of wanted to watch but Panino was very disturbed and said we should get the fuck out now. No sooner than he said that began a virtual stampede. I started out the door and at the same time Panino bent down to rescue a girl that was being trampled. Then it happened… I got clocked in the back of the head with a bottle. We kept on moving, it didn’t hurt very much I thought I was fine. Panino told me I was bleeding, I still thought it was just a nick and we could go on partying. Panino started talking doctors and shortly thereafter ambulances but I thought I could shake this off. By the time I got down to the street I could tell there was a serious stream of blood flowing from the back of my head. Now I was starting to worry but I still thought I could probably patch myself up.

To add to my problems I was absolutely hammered. In case you don’t know, excess alcohol equals thinner blood equals wounds that just don’t stop flowing. Also, even relatively minor head wounds bleed profusely even when you’re not drunk. By the time we reached the cab stand I began to panic. My shirt was soaked in blood running down from my head as thoroughly as if it had been dunked in a bucket of blood and there was a puddle on the ground growing larger by the second. I needed triage and an ambulance stat. God damnit another Hollywood lie! You can’t just shake off a bottle to the head like Bruce Willis!

While I was on the street no bystanders moved to help me at all except Panino and his off duty cop friend. I took off my shirt and gave it to Panino and he tried to stop the bleeding by applying pressure. It really didn’t help and I was really starting to imagine the possibility my going to meet the Great Flying Pasta with Meatballs in the Sky.

Thank God for Panino’s connections. Little did I know but there were about 30 other walking pieces of collateral damage from the same fagster bar brawl that we just left who later arrive at the same hospital as I did, after me. Luckily Panino and his cop friend were able to arrange me an ambulance and get me to the hospital before anybody else. By the time that ambulance showed up though I would estimate I had lost 1.5 to 2 liters of blood, considering the average adult only has 5 to 6 liters that’s really a lot. I was probably right on the cusp of going into shock. I was scared that I might need major surgery or I might even die. As Charlie will later write most, people in Singapore are absolutely retarded. I felt like the entire time I had to give the ambulance crew instructions on how to care for me. “Hey guys I’ve lost a lot of blood, how about a saline drip?” “Hey guys I’m drunk so I’m going to be bleeding more than normal.” “Hey guys how about checking my blood pressure?” “Yea ok how is it?” “Normal great.” Who was the fucking paramedic in this fucking ambulance, me or the guy wearing the uniform?

Upon arrival I was seen and attended to immediately by four semi-competent people but there were certainly some mistakes made, I think. I don’t really feel that they did anything to properly assess how much blood I had lost. I guess luckily for me it didn’t reach the threshold for shock but it had to be close. Whatever the case it turned out all I needed was some stitches but man was that a bitch because they couldn’t give me any good pain killers due to my drunkenness. I still felt that sometimes I had to be suggesting to them exactly what kind of care I needed, but they were nice enough and got me patched up relatively quickly. At the end however they made some really stupid recommendations not the least of which was tetanus shot. Maybe some people don’t know this but tetanus actually comes from dirt and is usually contracted via a deep puncture wound from a dirty object. It would be highly unlikely to contract tetanus from a slash created by a flying glass bottle that was recently sterilized by vodka or some other high alcohol content liquid. The last thing my body needed after this harrowing experience is the additional immune system stress of a fucking tetanus shot. I would expect a doctor to know this.

There was another particularly stupid hospital event before I left, instead of monitoring my heart with some serious professional equipment they were using one of those little finger thimble thingies like you find in the drug store or on your home treadmill. Those things are not always particularly accurate and via some mechanism that I don’t quite understand they often double the actual heart rate. I know this, I would expect the nurse attending to me to know this. Right as I was saying that I wanted to check out the nurse said no way your heart rate is 240. This scared the shit out of me before I realized what was really going on, I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest in the next 30 seconds or something. However, even drunk Boris, down ~ 2 liters of blood is apparently smarter than Singaporean nurses. My first instinct was to check my own pulse using the wall clock, it was only 110 – 120. I explained this to the nurse but he insisted on fiddling with the stupid drug store pulse machine which again reported 240-250. Two questions for this guy: 1.) If he really believed the 200+ reading was accurate why the fuck wasn’t he on the PA screaming code blue CODE BLUE?! 2.) If he knew or suspected it might be bullshit why was he not verifying it faster using the tried and true manual method plus clock?!? Seriously guys what the fuck? This isn’t Zimbabwe, this is a first world country, or so it seems to portray itself on the global stage. Don’t be fooled, they may have first world money but they have third world dumbassery.

Knowing that I probably should spend the night in the hospital but feeling like actually I dodged a bullet and would be OK I insisted on checking out. I was worried about the cost of this medical care but also about incompetence. How long could I stay in this hospital before somebody accidentally gave me Grandma Mung’s estrogen pills or removed one of my limbs due to a chart mix up. You may think it was stupid but I wanted to take my chances and get the fuck out of Singapore stat! The thing about Boris and especially Drunk Boris is that the second and third world countries treat him like a king and the first world is always trying to kill him for standing around minding his own business not bothering anybody. Maybe it’s just coincidence or bad luck or some combination thereof but I certainly don’t mind hanging out with hotter nicer women for a small fraction of the price of expensive western cities. For me it was an easy decision and the right calculated risk to take.

As I write this now I’m sitting on $140 SGD (~$116 USD) flight to greener pastures in the Phillippines. For the record $116 USD is enough in Singapore to get you a hot dog, a club entry and maybe a couple thimbles of beer just so you can talk to some obnoxious gold digging bitches. The only saving grace of Singapore is really the cool well connected dudes you can meet. I have only known Panino and Clayton for 7 days but already I feel like they are real friends. Panino probably saved my life. You may think it sounds ridiculous that I could have bled to death of a minor head wound that only required some stitches but think again. Minor as it was nobody could stop the bleeding by applying pressure, I needed a hospital or at least MacGyver with a Swiss Army Knife but he was nowhere to be found that night. If you haven’t been Singapore you have no fucking idea how slow the local people move – it’s the speed of cold molasses all day every day. It also seems to me that the heat and the humidity there must slowly roast everyone’s brains like Ron Popeil’s rotisserie chicken cooker. I also believe that if I didn’t have the presence of mind to instruct the ambulance staff and to a lesser degree the hospital staff on how to treat me and in what order I could have lost enough blood to go into shock or pass out or both and would have had much more serious problems. Thank God for Panino, I think I owe him my life or damn near close to it. If you’re reading this, dude, thanks again. $22 beers on me next time.

And to you faggots who are too much of pussies to throw a punch and need to throw bottles and ruin innocent bystanders’ nights and almost get me and a bunch of cute little Thai and Chinese girls killed, I send the biggest fuck you in the world. You guys are faggots and I hope you kill each other all off. To all of you assholes on the street who didn’t try to help me at all too. I wouldn’t piss in your mouths if your teeth were on fire, you selfish assholes.

You may also like...

%d bloggers like this: