Rolling With KL's Entourage

I came to Kuala Lumpur (or "KL" as the locals call it) to catch a flight. One day, two nights, quick and dirty, nothing terribly glamorous or exciting until...

I arrived mid-afternoon and put down my bags, grabbed my walking shoes and took to the streets for exploration. Staying in the Golden Triangle business district I passed numerous banks, office buildings, franchised American coffee shops along the main road. The most "interesting" thing I saw in this concrete jungle was a side street filled with tiki-style cheese ball bars and clubs with cliche names such as "The Beach Club" and "Dancing Queen." I made note and continued on eventually hopping the monorail back to my hostel down the road hoping to run into a potential dinning partner.

There were no dining partners, only some hippies in the front area drinking beer and waxing philosophical about some minor and pointless details of world. I asked the man at the front desk if there was any good Malaysian food nearby. He was less than helpful and I set out on a hunt for food and started retracing my footsteps from the afternoon. I was a few blocks away when approached by a man asking if I knew where "The Beach Club" was. Funny enough, it was one of the only places in KL of which I did know the location.

Eddie, British guy living in KL, was meeting a friend he had met on a plane from Bangkok a few months prior and invited me along. Sure, I thought. I could always leave if it was awkward or lame, but I couldn't pass up the chance to get to know some locals. Little did I know that these weren't just any locals...they were KL's own VIPs.

We walked into the bar blaring the anticipated cheesy (buy delightfully so) mix of feel-good dance music and found our host, James, and his entourage - a motley crew of about 7 Chinese, Malay and Indian men all looking closer to Silicon Valley dorks than professional clubbers. The tables were loaded with buckets of champagne and two Johnny Walker bottles so large that they were hooked up on swinging metal tripods for easy pouring. Immediately a flute of champagne was put into my hand (garnished with a cherry) by the bar worker who had been assigned to stand by and top off our glasses whenever they got low - sometimes by their own initiative and sometimes at the prompting of host, snap snap.

This wasn't a celebration, just a regular old Wednesday night - the same thing had happened Tuesday, Monday, Sunday...back to last Thursday. No money exchanged hands. All was done on good credit. Apparently James was not only a dedicated partier, but also a shrewd businessman with a textile import/export company, owned a few bars (not the ones we were at) and had numerous government contracts. Most importantly, though, he was a really good guy - a graceful and generous host out to surround himself with happiness more than anything. The DJs, waitstaff and everyone at each cheesy bar we visited were all smiles.

I enjoyed the drink and the dance, but knew that I couldn't/didn't want to keep up with these seasoned VIPs. When the live Thai pop band took the stage for their second set at the second bar, I thought it best to leave. Unfortunately that meant that I missed a ride in the 4 jeeps that would come to pick everyone up, but my departure kept the memory (and the next day) pleasant.