Back in 2001, I was grinding away as a tech officer at a government university. One Friday around noon, my trusty Motorola C 200 went off – no smartphones, just the basics. Turns out, it was Ravi, a buddy of mine.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" No beating around the bush with him.
"I'm at the office, man, knee-deep in work," I replied, playing up the busyness.
"I don't care. Can you swing by my place earlier today?"
"Why?"
"No time for questions. Can you make it or not?"
Despite having zero clue why, the brotherly vibe with Ravi made it impossible to decline. So, I caved.
"Alright, I'll swing by. Where and when?"
"Just show up at Sea Breeze Hotel whenever you can," he said, fully aware it's a couple of hours away.
And just like that, he hung up – no formalities.
Managed to snag a quick leave from my boss, a no-nonsense professor treating us like lackeys. Went with the classic headache excuse, and he signed off without much fuss.
Made a beeline for the bus stop, hopped on a bus, and embarked on a two-hour journey to Sea Breeze Hotel.
Got there to find Ravi, his Japanese buddy Takuma, and a few others lounging by the beach. The setup was spot-on, with the restaurant boasting a killer view of the ocean.
Ravi introduced Takuma, a Japanese friend who didn't speak English, and the rest of us were clueless about Japanese. Communication turned into a mash-up of Ravi's interpretation and some downright comical sign language.
As the day rolled on, Ravi took charge, ordering food and drinks without consulting us. Takuma's love for local arracks, a potent Sri Lankan liquor, left us with no choice but to roll with it, even though we weren't exactly thrilled.
The server brought the bottles, and Ravi kicked off a toast. Forced to join in, I mixed mine with coke, hoping to take the edge off. The local arrack, known for its kick, made me feel like I was breathing fire like a dragon.
Takuma suggested a drinking game, a Japanese tradition none of us were familiar with. Rounds ensued, and despite its absurdity, we played along, knocking back four 750 ml bottles in an hour.
The night wrapped up with singing, dancing, and a pretty buzzed group. Ravi saw Takuma off to his hotel, and I opted for a taxi to sneak my way home. Managed to dodge my dad's keen senses and snuck into bed, the world still spinning around me.
But that's not the end of the story – did Takuma survive the local arrack adventure? Find out in the next post. (Feel free to drop a comment; I'd appreciate it!)
