Banned, banned and banned again!

There's nothin' wrong with a lady drinkin' alone in a room...
- Tom Waits -

I know I wasn't going to post from India anymore, but this is just too weird to withhold from y's all...

It started the day before last, I was sat, as per usual, in Leopold's having a beer (on my own...I only drink on my own here). Now, even in the evening it gets pretty darned hot and sweaty and Leopold's has an upstairs, airconditioned bar, to which, usually around the hour of 20:00, I retire to. It's cooler, the music's better and it's darker, so I don't feel so alone in my alcoholism (which I may add, I've added a healthy valium addiction to as well).
On this said evening however (it was a Saturday night), only couples were allowed up the stairs together. This to minimize the amount of, what the Indians call, stags. Presumably with a capitol S in stag, I'm not quite sure.
"But I'm on my own.!" I said.
"Then you can't go up!" the bouncer replied.
"But I always go up!" I interrupted.
"Not tonight you ain't."

So, I wondered over to the owner and said: "Hey buddy, I spend thousands of rupees in here each week and I want to go upstairs. The bouncer won't let me."
"That's because you're single." He answered.
"Well of course I'm bloody single, otherwise I wouldn't be drinking down here on my own, would I?"
"You can't go up!"
And then I lost my cool. All my Yoda-ness left me and I threw my bottle of beer over him. He was not amused.
I was banned from Leopold's for life.

Next day, I was wondering along in a fine old foul mood, when I took the fancy of eating an ice-cream. So, I bought an ice-cream and started munching away.
"Sorry sir. You can't eat that here." A security guard said.
"But....but...but I bought it here!" I stammered.
"You still can't eat it here though."
I pointed to some Indians who were eating their ice-creams in exactly the same place as I was: "They are."
"They're not allowed to either."
Again the force left me. All Kenobi-ness abandoned me like quality abandoned "Poseidon" (the remake of the Poseidon adventure) and I threw my ice-cream at the guard and marched off.
Obviously this doesn't actually count as a ban, but needless to say the ice-cream parlour can stick their fucking ice-creams up where the sun don't shine.

In the mood I was in there was only three things to do:
1. Down 30mg's of valium
2. Get drunk
3. Go to the only cool bar that would still let me in (which has a jukebox, by the way).
Considering the options, I chose all three and marched into Mardy's and ordered a foot-long Fosters (not that I particularly like Foster's beer, but I particularly do not like King Fisher's).

So, I sit at a table, put some money in the jukebox and sit enjoying my beer.
A waiter comes along and says: "Sir, this table is for four, would you mind relocating to that table over there."
He pointed to a two person's table.
Hey! I ain't the worst of guys, so I do so.
As I'm sat there drinking my third or fourth beer another waiter comes along and says: "There's two people we need to seat, would you be so kind as to move to that table over there." And he pointed to what looked like a dustbin in the corner of the room.
"Errrr...no." I said. "I'm sat here fine."
"Please sir."
"No. Go fuck yourself."
He went to get the manager.
I felt all Windu-ism leave me at this point. I'm not proud of it and I sometimes wonder If I'm not teetering on the brink of the darkside....

The manager comes up and says: "Sir, we really need to sit more people, now would you be so ki...."
He didn't finish his sentence, because I poured my beer over his head. And walked out.
Needless to say I'm no longer welcome at Mardy's either.

So, with no watering holes left to fill my needs, I'm off for a walk along Chowpatti beach and I swear to God (any old God), the first person that dares defy me ANYTHING, is going to have their head ripped off and my shit slung down their fucking necks.

Now, where's my fucking valium when I need it?