After my 20-some hours of travel, I was greeted at the airport with the embrace of one of my closest friends. An esteemed gentlemen by the name of Jason Schuurman. We took a taxi and a train and a walk and ended up back at his place. Located in Tai Chung, Taiwan. After a brief discourse, we decided it was of the upmost importance to get drunk. We walked a ways and ended up at a quaint bar by the name of Bandit. During our walk, Jason enlightened me to the the history of the bar scene in his fair city. About 2 years ago the mayor decided to crack down on bars. Closing almost 200 locations in a very quick period of time. The genesis of this decision, was based upon an occurrence, in which a drunk man stuck a roman candle between his legs, acting as if it was his genitalia, he thrust his pelvis about shooting flaming balls in the room. It sounds hilarious until you hear the result. The bar caught on fire, and 9 people ended up burning to death. Damn. So we sat in one of the few remaining bars that managed to bring itself of to the scrupulous new bar codes. We drank beer and sake, and quickly made friends with the Taiwanese men drinking there. We put on Mariachi El Bronx and talked with these fine men for the remainder of the evening. Eventually, we discovered that one of them shared the same birthday as Jason. Same day. Same year. As Jason excessively hugged his new friend, I spoke, in a very limited capacity to another, trying to explain that I thought basketball was boring, and the only sport I cared for was boxing. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about, so I started miming boxing moves. Jason saw me acting as such, and put his hands up to meet me. After a sort stint of shadow boxing each other, I punched Jason in the mouth. On accident of course! On accident. After a few more beers and much more sake, we were politely asked to leave. The next day we took our hangovers on a long scooter trip to the ocean, where we walked a mile out on the mudflats and watched the sun set.