Apparently annual hospital dinners with their traditionally liberal availability of spirits seem to be the best place to catch your ordinarily uptight, buttoned-up medical colleagues... at their absolute drunken worst. With the seemingly endless free flow of alcohol depriving them of reason, reserve or restraint, few act as they normally would.
Which generally explains my one reason for going. So much easier to smile at that sour-faced harridan of a matron when you've actually seen her tottering gleefully on a dinner chair with a borrowed bottle of tuak
Or just like last weekend when the usually taciturn medical officer started getting just a bit friendly with the help of the bolstering spirits. Normally this hulking fellow hardly ever speaks to me. Traded a few warm pleasantries as we passed each other in the hallway and that's about it. Till that night when he seemed to be barely five feet away everywhere I turned.
Which doesn't really bother me.
|Another picture? Don't you see I'm trying my damnedest to get pissed drunk? |
However... pestering me for the odd trivial information along with insistent requests to take photographs while wobbling about in an inebriated manner definitely doesn't catch my interest. But I obliged of course, always humour a drunk. Blamed it on the tuak
. Dangerously potent cocktail of fermented rice, yeast and sugar that goes down so sweetly that you'll find yourself helplessly prostrated on the ground before you know it.
Quite a few guests at that dinner found that out the hard hangover-the-next-day
All goes well till the morning when the news of what you did catches up with you. And with the wildly efficient hospital grapevine
, it doesn't take all that many hours before my nurses apprise me of the news.
Miranda : OMG Have I got news to tell you.
Paul : More gossip! I like.
Miranda : I think someone has a crush on you!
Paul : You gotta be kidding.
Miranda : Serious. Don't you recall someone always sidling up to you the entire night asking to take pictures?
Paul : No doubt that's the alcohol talking.
Miranda : Not really, he wasn't all that drunk.
Paul : He wasn't?
Miranda : I think he really likes you.
Paul : I hope you're not serious.
Seems he thinks I'm kinda cute. Not that I really believe such baseless rumours! Barely shared more than a two solid conversations with the fellow at most, and even then, he didn't even try to make a move on me. What's taking him so long? Surely I'm not that terrifyingly daunting at work.
But even if it isn't entirely true, it's just nice to know that someone could like me. *squeal