“YES. YES, MY dear, sure. No…, I should be back by the end of the week, but I’ll only know for definite tomorrow.”
I listened to my wife speaking for a few minutes and, when she finally paused, I continued, “Yes, I’ve been really busy, not much time to do anything but work. No sightseeing or anything. Hmm, anyway, guess I must go, I’ve still got a presentation to finish. Yes, take care to you too. Miss you, bye my love.”
Once I put down the phone, I sat down on the bed and reflected on the conversation I’d just had. “It’s like I’ve never been away on a business trip before,” I thought. “Don’t do this, be careful of that,” and I laughed softly to myself.
“Anyway, should be able to catch the Saturday night flight back so at least I’ll have Sunday at home,” I mused, as I turned my laptop back on and opened up PowerPoint. “Now, where is that presentation I was working on..”
Twenty minutes later, I was still engrossed in changing some of the existing slides and inserting a couple of new ones. The phone rang suddenly and it jolted me out of my concentration.
“Oh, hi Jeff”, came the instantly recognisable voice of Louis, one of my colleagues. “What are you up to? We’re just about to head out for a quick drink. Want to join us?”
“Er.., no thanks..,” I began, and glanced at my watch; 9:40 P.M. “I’m in the middle of doing something. Actually, I’m working on one of my presentations.”
“Working at this time of night? Come on, you can do it tomorrow. We’ve got most of tomorrow morning free. In fact, I think our first meeting is just before lunch, you’ve plenty of time to work in the morning.”
For a moment, I wavered. “Hmm, maybe I should pack up for the night, I’m feeling a bit jaded anyway,” I thought. “But I’m not that keen on heading out for a night around the bars. Especially, as, knowing my colleagues, it will be half a dozen bars and back to the hotel in the early hours.”
“Jeff, Jeff, are you still there?”
“Sorry, yes, just thinking. Probably have to pass…, maybe tomorrow night.”
“Are you sure? There’s some great places just around the hotel. Real fun. Oh, come on, come with us. Just for a quick one.”
I looked at my watch again and back to my laptop purring on the writing desk. “Okay. Okay, I’ll come along later, maybe in an hour from now. Let me just get this last presentation sorted and I’ll feel better then. Where will you be, say about 10:45 PM?”
“Er…, why don’t we say we’ll see you in that bar almost right behind the hotel, you know, if you come out of the back entrance and turn right. About 100-150 metres along the road, right hand side, steps down to the basement; some outdoor tables too. Can’t miss it. See you later then”.
And, with that, the phone line went dead.
As I sat back down at my laptop, I wondered if I had made the right decision. “Sure, I’d like to get out and socialise a bit, but my colleagues don’t seem to know when to stop,” I thought. “They’ll probably carry on until the last bar closes for the night.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I saved my work and exited the computer. “Quick shower, maybe a shave to get rid of the five o’clock shadow, and away we go,” I mused, as I pulled a fresh shirt and pair of light-coloured trousers from my wardrobe. “Still got plenty of time, maybe I’ll try and catch some of the sports news first.”
By the time I was ready, I could hear the rain hammering against the window of my room and nearly had second thoughts about going out at all. “Oh, well, it’s lucky I can get to the bar under cover most of the way. Otherwise, I probably really wouldn’t go.”
I half-ran from the back entrance of my hotel to the bar, picking up extra speed where there was no overhead cover and, finally, arriving in a not too dishevelled state. Just before I went down the front steps and inside, I brushed a few drops of rain from either shoulder, straightened my trouser belt and smoothed my hair.
“Now, where are they?” I thought, looking around the low-ceilinged bar, and peering through the gloom typically associated with such type of establishments. To say the bar was crowded was an understatement, and I could hardly hear myself think as a Filipino band blasted high-octane music.
For a few minutes, I wandered around the bar, really more of a disco/nightclub, looking for my colleagues. After a while I began to feel rather self-conscious, as one does, when the reality of looking for someone begins to look like a pretence.
“I said I’d be here at 10:45 PM,” I thought, as I looked at my watch for the third time in as many minutes. “And it’s not even that yet. Where are they? Tut.”
A couple of women standing at the bar began smiling at me but, after giving a brief smile back, I moved back towards the bar entrance and pulled out my mobile.
It took me a moment or two to find my colleague’s mobile number and I hesitated, briefly, before pressing “call’, as I knew it would be the equivalent of an international call to reach him.
Five seconds, ten seconds and still Louis didn’t pick up. Another five and the message “You are now being diverted to the voicemail box of…” kicked in. “Hi, I’m here at the front of the bar we said we’d meet at,” I managed to shout through the noise. “Where are you now? Please give me a call, or send me a text.”
As I ended the call, I debated whether to do one more circuit of the bar looking for them or go and stand up at street level under the canopy. “Think I’ll have a look around one more time and, if I can’t see them, I’ll go back up and try to call again,” I thought. “If I can’t get in touch, think I’ll just go back to the hotel. Have an early night.”
Within another five minutes, I was standing at street level looking at the pouring rain, now heavier than before. A group of other people were sharing the same refuge and, every now and then, some brave soul would rush from another building and join the throng trying to shelter under ‘our’ shared shelter.
Ten more minutes passed, and I called my colleague again, only to reach the same voicemail box. I was beginning to feel slightly irritated and more so when a newcomer to the shelter knocked into a woman standing in front of me. As the woman stumbled, one of the spokes of her umbrella caught the side of my head.
“Ow!” I cried involuntarily, as the spoke hit home. “Ow!”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” said the woman, as she turned to look at me. “Are you alright? So, sorry.”
I smiled at her reassuringly and noticed that the culprit was sprinting across the road to another bar. He got his just deserts, though, as a car travelling past him threw up a wave of water and soaked him.
t
