Welcome to New York City

Welcome to New York City.

Sin City

Disclaimer: I guess this is one of the few times I better write a disclaimer. This is not to cover my own ass against some legal lawsuit, but rather, perhaps, for those who know me, the person who you are about to listen to, is not who you know. This person who is recounting this story is aware of the repercussions to his reputation and yes, seriously, it's probably that bad.

It all started one fine day, when my phone suddenly rang. It was a quiet, normal day, with me swamped by work as usual, when my friend called up and said he has plans to go to Las Vegas for his 21st birthday and that me and a bunch of other guys were invited. Okay, maybe it didn't happen like that, but this sets the beginning of the story, when we, a bunch of crazy college students, hopped on that plane in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, to experience a weekend of debauchery, decadence and sin.

The moment we got off the plane, we were more than antsy to gamble our parent's money away. The first sight that greeted my eyes was that of the innumerous slot machines that stand at attention to greet all tourists who just got off the flight. There's a weak feeble sign on the first on, "No one under the age of 21 is permitted to play at the slot machines or loiter nearby" which is much like the required government warning on all cigarette labels, "Smoking Kills" but you might as well do it anyway.

The first sin we committed was that of avarice, or rather, we got a stretch limo from the airport to our hotel. First time, seven of us piled into the back of the limo, and we were cruising down the strip. While such extravagance was not lost on me, it gave me remarkable insight into the mentality of the place. There were literally stretch limos all over the place. And the proximity of the airport to the casinos were not lost on me. Instantly, we were hit with the dazzling lights of all the casinos on the strip, each trying to outdo the other in all impressiveness with the lights and pools and facade that looks like it's made of gold. The innumerous casinos there are insane in their attempts to attract customers. This is a picture of the Mirage at night as we strolled on by.

Our chauffeur was very helpful in providing VIP passes to some of the best clubs on Vegas, plus tips on which strip clubs to go. His most memorable comment was, "You know, in the summer, it's so hot that chicks just walk around wearing a g-string, heels and pasties." Google that if you're not a guy. There was uproar in the limo upon that statement, we cursed that our dear friend, whose birthday we were celebrating, who was not born in June or July. But clearly, there were more than enough sights to see, and sights to see galore.

But that aside, we instantly hit the casinos after our blitz check-in, and hit Caesar's Palace and then the Flamingo. The former was an awesome high class place where the high rollers go and the cocktail waitresses are in the skimpiest pieces of cloth which does not even qualify as modest in most nightclubs. I was getting spoilt on the eye candy, but the stakes at Caesar's Palace do not agree with my wallet, and hence we moved off to Flamingo. Flamingo was old-school gambling haven, with the pink neon lights and considerably less eye-candy, but undeterred, we were prepared to gamble and prepared to lose some money. After handing off some money to the casino, we decided that maybe 4am was a good time to sleep and we headed back to our seedy hotel.

The next morning, we instantly hit another bunch of casinos, it was all a whirl of greed, gluttony, sloth and envy. I saw chips and I guess I sort of lost it a little. I didn't lose a lot of money, but rather I was pissed that I exceeded my gambling budget so fast. We visited places like the Wynn, and Paris (pictures) and it was another whirlwind of gambling and other such decadent behavior. Somehow, I know from my past experience that there's no point in chasing after losses, but there seems to be something in me that screams out to put more money down, maybe you'll win this time. I guess at this point here, I think of luck, that I am not a lucky person. I think the world owes me a lottery jackpot by now for the innumerable bad luck I have. But that's just a gambler's way of thinking. Luck is a way that people try to maintain some sort of control over unpredictable events. It's like saying: I have good luck, no matter what sh*t happens out there, it's gonna be alright for me.

Well, I'm not a lucky person. And things didn't go well, but it didn't matter. It was all to be expected, the house always wins. But I found myself itching and wanting more. It wasn't anymore about winning money, there was something in me that asked me to play, that I didn't want to stand around doing nothing and looking lame. I played, I was tempted into playing. How could I not play with a gambling table every two feet? I gambled away quite a bit of money, but there was a strange feeling inside me that I didn't fear losing or enjoy winning. A hollowness inside, and I remember myself saying, "It's okay, so much sh*t has already happened to me that I don't think losing that much money would change anything."

That night, my friend's dad, who also flew in for his birthday, took us all out to dinner at Nobu, and we had a very filling dinner, with sushi prepared in a variety of fusion ways. It was awesome, it was different from the usual sushi. The prideful sushi aficionado myself, I was somewhat surprised that even salmon drenched in olive oil and soy sauce could do the lambada on my tongue. A dish that was completely unique was this whitefish with a tangy taste of lime. To me, it wasn't want sushie was suppose to be, but it whetted my appetite. Everything was fresh, and I tasted life. Before I could take a picture of the dishes, chopsticks were quickly bearing in on the raw pieces of fish, and luckily, me being Asian, I could fight them off and grab my share. It was that good.

Anyway, after that we tried hitting a club, but with one of our posse not bringing the right shoes we were denied despite a lot of name-dropping. For some reason, we just knew Keith ran the show, and we just said Keith said we could do it. And I remember the bouncer telling us, "Guys come on in, we could sit you next to eleven girls." Do the math, that's about 1.6 chicks per guy. And all because one of our dudes couldn't make it in... so we were greatly disappointed, but not for long.

It turns out that gambling was not the only vice in Vice City, and just upon exiting the hotel, somehow we got a stretch limo (again) to one of the hottest gentlemen's club in the city. Okay, I'll come out and say it, strip club, tittie bar, whatever you want to call it, it was there and it was an experience. Chicks were coming up to us and asking if they could dance for us, and while there was no pressure, their sexy red lips with batting eyelashes said no, their sexy slender hips and luscious womanly bits said yes. So it started out, a couple of us bought lap dances, and the birthday boy (yes, surprisingly we were still celebrating his birthday for the entire week) got plenty of eye-candy. It was a strange thing, to see chicks so ready to take off their clothes, and I was intrigued. Okay, seduced. Whatever.

Anyway, this hot blonde chick, Paula, in kinky red lingerie walked up to me, and she came up and said to me, in a seductive Czech accent, the most cliched starter for a conversation, "You better be careful." I knew the lines to this conversation and I responded in turn, "Why?" She stared close into my eyes, barely inches from my face, I could lightly smell the perfume emanating off her sensual body, and she said, "Because of danger." I responded according to the script, "Are you dangerous?" And she gave me this look as she rubbed up against me, then she looked away. I swear, this all happened, the most cliched conversation I have ever had with a stripper, "I don't know," she replied as she leaned in.

That set the stage, like a snake hypnotising its prey with its gentle swaying motion, she sat on my lap and asked me, "Do you want a dance?" I looked at her, I wondered how could I say no?

I guess its time here for a morality check. Is it immoral to go to a strip club? Is it immoral to ogle at a naked woman's body and have lecherous thoughts? Is it immoral to want to have a feel of another woman's skin against yours? I guess in all aspects it is, but strange enough, I respected this woman. She was smart, she knew how to handle a man, she said all the right things, gave all the right signals, she knew how far to give and when to stop, and tantalising for more. Her job was stripping, and she was good at her job. It was tempting and I wanted to find out more about this woman.

I said, yes. She didn't hesitate, she didn't look away for a moment, she got straight to it, and she took of her top. She started to grind up against me, and I guess I was lost in the moment. She smelled weakness I guess, and then she looked at me with her dark brown eyes and said, "Do you want to go to somewhere more private?" I could swear she was one of the most hottest chick there, if not the hottest, and I could not think of a reason to say no. She had me there.

We went to a dark backroom, where I gave away my credit card. Genius, I know, this was going to be one hell of an expensive lap dance. I took into mind not to simply sign away anything, and was quite amused upon reading their disclaimer. It said something about not soliciting prostitution and blah blah, and it was such a thick paragraph of words that only someone like me would bother reading the fine print. But my attention was soon taken away for the next thirty minutes. It wasn't all just show, okay, forgive me, but I didn't just want to stare, I wanted to know the person who was giving me something to stare at. I wanted to know why, I wanted to ask, and she was a complete professional. She amazed me by knowing the right things to say, her lies were plentiful; she was from Czech, she came here to study, needed money to pay off her student loans and she found doing dancing fun. I slowly remembered the details as I wanted to mull over them later. She also knew when to stop talking and start putting on a show, she knew how to engage me in conversation, and I could swear no one would give a rat's ass about what I had to say, but she listened with rapt fascination as though I was recounting how I saved the world, twice.

My thoughts ended up in a simple conclusion; if she ever walked into an interview, she'd get the job no matter what it was. She knew the right things to say, and how to avoid the wrong questions. I questioned, probed and tried to learn all I could, and I have to say that I am in awe of her skills. If I had her pretense or her ability to relate to people, I wouldn't be unemployed right now. Sure, her breasts were fine and her ass was tight, but this was a person who knew what she was doing. She was trying to be as close as possible, yet distant at the same time, and we flirted quite a bit and I felt a bit sad that she was just doing her job. But I did learn a lot of things, about how to say the right things, how to avoid questions and how women have this power over men to mold them like putty in their hands, or in between their breasts.

I guess by now, my reputation's pretty much what it is now. I figured that perhaps I should be ashamed for doing what I did; paying for pseudo-sex. But I learnt something, and that was something that I would not have ever understood, had I not been in that chair. Is it wrong just to think of it as her job? I don't know, while I was there, I didn't feel guilty, I didn't feel immoral or dirty. I felt that was an interesting experience, and perhaps I understand my fellow man a little better now. How some guys do enjoy having their balls ripped off by their significant other, or how men can be tempted into doing things they wouldn't normally do. We can be high and mighty on our throne of morality, but perhaps the only way to master ourselves and be truly upright is not to avoid temptation, but be above temptation.

That argument sort of sounds like, "I can quit smoking anytime, I just don't want to." But as I reflect upon that, it was a lesson that I learnt. I have no desire to go back there. I might if I'm in the area with something to celebrate, but no other reason. It was a pure hollow, physical, business-like relationship and I felt the emptiness and the lies, despite those lies making me feel good while I was there. Maybe I'm glad I did it, I think that I should learn to lie like her, tell people what they want to hear. All I need to do now is to learn the cues. It's weird, huh? Me, having respect for a stripper, but I think somehow, we always got something to learn from someone else.

But I suppose that was that, and we left soon after. I told her, "You'll forget about me tomorrow." She said she wouldn't, and she called me a Malaysian prince. (She glanced at my passport) Sorry miss, am not that rich. Maybe she won't, after all, a good stripper is one who develops long-term relationships with her clients. But seeing as I'm not going back there anytime soon, she'll forget me. But I've dwaddled on this topic for way too long.

We went back to our usual regime of gambling, and the next day, we found ourselvs at the Wynn, and I watched my friend cash in pot after pot at poker. I remember this one hand he won, it was ridiculous. Mind the poker lingo: he had pocket kings and the guy had pocket nines. The flop came five, rag, rag and then after the turn, which was also a rag, my friend raised 120 dollars, and the guy called. When the river came, he raised 120 again, and the guy thought for a long time, then he said, "All-in" My friend thought for two minutes, then called, and doubled up his chips right there and then. Total pot size? Over a thousand dollars. I remember watching with envy, he made it all look so easy. But I suppose he had luck too, that elusive lady b*tch who would is so fickle.

We gambled quite a bit more after that, I remembered here at one point, I almost lost it. I placed down two large bets and lost both. It was a blow and I was still feeling empty inside. It didn't matter how much money I lost, I was just basically pissed off with life because back in the real world, out of Sin City, my life was basically in the sh*ts. We went "bawling" later that night. Seriously, "bawling". We got a VIP table at a club, shelled out big bucks for a bottle of Absolut Citron and Grey Goose, and were drinking quite a bit. Some of us, were really "bawling out of control". Heh, this picture is of my friends and they really look like they're "bawling". Note the really expensive sneakers.

It was quite a night, I suppose, there were these two dancers who decide to take a break in the area next to ours and that was the second hottest thing I saw that night, as two of them made out. Okay, no kissing, but very close to it, very very close. I wish I was a little drunker at that point, so I would do something completely stupid and at least talk to them. But they were enjoying a cigarette there and soon thereafter they left. They didn't come back.

Strangely, for an overcrowded nightclub in Vegas, there was a dearth of hot chicks. We made friends with one of the bouncers and it was pretty cool to have a 6'2 guy weighing 300 pounds, dressed all in black who'd go up to random chicks and say, "Look, I got a couple of guys back here who'd like to meet you." Yeah, awesome! But there was an apparent lack of hot chicks. For every one hot chick the bouncer introduced to us, she had one ugly friend tagging along. Sorry, I'm that shallow, but I'm just here for the eye-candy, not in the mood for conversation. I was still there drinking 9-parts vodka, 1-part cranberry juice, and the crowd slowly started to thin. I guess we should have come earlier, about 11pm instead of almost 1am. All the hot chicks might have left already. But anyway, in case some people were wonder what did I mean by the second hottest thing in the bar and what is the hottest thing in the bar, look at what I got my hands on.

Anyway, I guess in part, I have become quite shallow and very much an asshole. But I guess it comes with the turf. I have committed the seven deadly sins enough times that I wonder what is a possible penitence there is for me. But it is Las Vegas, and it is what you get when you go there. I guess I really believe in experience and this has been a truly awesome experience. The stories told, the "bawlers" out of control and it's a once in a lifetime thing. And I think once in a lifetime is just quite enough for this lifetime.

Afterword: We picked ourselves up and went back, but not before a little bit of Roulette again, and I found myself crashing earlier to sleep than the rest of the guys. We woke up and checked out and the hardcore gamblers went playing poker again, while the not-so-hardcore gamblers hung out at a sports bar with the company of this cute waitress named Lindsey. We tried to get into the poolside, but it was for guests only and I guess I had a glimpse of what it was like there when a bevy of beautiful bikini-covered tits and asses walked by me, through the casino and back to the privacy of their own rooms. But at the Hard Rock Hotel, they played awesome music, and in true style, they had an awesome decor and a lot of memorabilia from the great rockers of the past, from Beatles, to Meatloaf, to Metallica, to a whole bunch of other people and in truth, I am now inspired to mount a guitar on my wall. But that was the conclusion of my trip and after all that has happened, maybe what happened in Vegas should have stayed in Vegas.

Hypocrisy forgets, but never dies

Remember, remember always, that all of us... are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.

Franklin D. Roosevelt

I guess right now I'm dealing with the whole immigration thing. After all, I am a designated non-resident alien. Wow, look how that phrase just stings. Not human, not person, but alien. Maybe I've watched too much X-Files, but since when has the word alien have any neutral or positive connotations? Isn't it just a crude way of saying that I do not belong to this world?

You see right now, I draw a parallel between me trying to get into the United States (again) on a H1-B visa, and the situation I'm watching right now as NYU admits more students into its halls.

The background is that the admittance rate of NYU has soared by 4%. That means 4% of applicants who wouldn't have gotten in, in 2006, now would have gotten in if they applied in 2007. Or in numbers, 1,165 more students are admitted to NYU. According to Bloomberg.com, approximately 1,000 less students have applied to NYU this year, because of the required SAT IIs. So less people are applying and more people are being accepted contributes to this rise in acceptance rates.

I think NYU being the no. 1 dream school is highly overrated. I'm here in NYU and I couldn't really understand why that is so. But one thing I do protest is that I believe NYU is letting in too many students. Last year's incoming freshmen totaled 4,400 noobs and noobettes. And I think that that is way too much. First of all, the common areas in the buildings are always consistently flooded with people. Come exam time, there are no places to find a computer or a table to even study at. Computer terminals are full up. Last year there was a housing fiasco where 500 students were not assigned on-campus housing because there were not enough spots. NYU is heavily promoting it's study abroad plans to peddle students to its overseas campuses to relieve some of the space shortage in the university. With all these signs, clearly the university is taking on more than it can handle.

With regards, what are the adversed consequences of this? Technically, I should be for admitting more students, because each marginal student that is accepted (marginal, used in an economic sense) would invariably raise my GPA along the curve. But somehow, the facilities in NYU aren't enough to go around. Ever tried hitting the gym at 5pm?

Now if the population in NYU increases by approximately 1% a year, and tuition grows at over 5.5% a year, now what was the inflation rate in the United States again? 3.23% in 2006? 3.39 in 2005? Now what's going on here? Am I not getting my value for my money? Or is it like NYU is seeking to patch things up by bringing in more students so that they would pay more so that we can all reap the benefits of the influx of cash?

NYU scores top for three things, which are #1 dream school, #1 students dissatisfied with financial aid and #1 for gay acceptance. That's pathetic in my opinion. First of all, NYU isn't a dream school because it's NYU, but because it's in NYC. Students dissatisfied with financial aid? That's not something to be proud of. And finally there's a fine line between tolerance and proponents. I don't mind people of different sexual orientation, but what is "Gay by May" suppose to mean?

So kinda there's nothing to be proud of. Instead, shouldn't it be more selective, breeding only smarter students? Sure, it's elitist behavior, but when there aren't enough places, housing or facilities to go around, shouldn't you start culling the student population instead of seeking to expand?

But isn't that the same exact argument for the entire immigration debate? That America should shut its doors to immigration. There are limited number of jobs in America and that these should go to Americans to provide their livelihood instead of to immigrants with no loyalty, and would drive wages down and make everyone suffer.

Have you seen some of the comments out there on immigration? Wow. Those people are certainly bitter. The vile slime they sling around, yes, the veneer is only that thin, and racism easily shows up. Some of them complain that immigrants do not know how to speak English, and that tech companies only hire them because they are cheaper, but not more efficient, and that tech companies are abusing the visas for low-skilled and medium-skilled jobs.

I'm sorry I'm not hired because I don't fit into that mold. I don't speak English well, I work for less money that reasonable, and guess what, I guess any cab driver can be an actuary.

But there are differences between letting more students into a school, and letting immigrants into a country. Immigrants has one of those connotations that is closely related to "illegal" and "border runner". Letting highly skilled workers into the country would generate more jobs. C'mon, highly skilled workers would mean that high tech industries would grow and spend money, relying more on the lower industries to provide services and goods, and blah blah, it trickles down to the blue collar worker. Highly skilled workers pay more taxes than those people who are whining about their jobs. Social Security overload? Budget deficit? Any of those sound familiar to you? Don't you need more people to contribute money to these?

The only ones whining about the influx of immigration is NOT the companies, is NOT the blue collar workers, is NOT the government, and is NOT especially the consumer. It's the people who are losing their jobs and salary that are complaining and projecting their loss onto the larger masses by saying it's going to be the end of the world if America lets in more immigrants. All their arguments revolve around their own personal selfish loss. If it wasn't their loss, they wouldn't have said anything else, they'd be enjoying their martini, driving their Porsches, and sleeping with their secretaries. You see, it's true, immigrants are driving down wages, but were those wages fair to begin with? Are we so sure as to proclaim that the salaries that we receive right now are considered fair wage? Those people seem to think so, that they think that perhaps USD100,000 is mediocre and they dream of job security and they can continuously leech of a company without thinking of being replaced.

Guess what? Welcome to the global economy. It's globalisation coming back to bite America in the ass by taking away its jobs. Twenty years ago, while the west was so inclined to open markets in the east, now, the east is going to infiltrate the job market in the west. I don't think any one is qualified just to blame the loss of their job on something like globalisation or how companies are being unfair, evil and cheap by hiring the cheapest or outsourcing.

In fact, I think that it is unethical for a company not to outsource and cut its cost whenever possible. If America prides itself for freedom and capitalism, then hold true to your values and let companies act in the scope of capitalism; seek the lowest cost, sell to the highest bidder. Is it unfair to punish the shareholders of a corporation by not allowing them to lower their cost? By forbidding them from outsourcing or seeking the cheapest labor? Why do they have to pay for your job security? Why do shareholders have to suffer at the expense of the public? A minority few has to subsidise the lifestyle of the many?

I guess you can only display outrage if you've never shopped at WalMart. Isn't that what you're doing also when you shop at WalMart? You seek the lowest cost, be it made in Detroit or GuangZhou, China. There's no protest by the toaster stand, calling you evil and hypocritical for not supporting American jobs, there's no government legislation saying that you need to hire a lawyer, fill a thousand forms and pay USD10,000 to buy something that's Made In China. Go ahead, when was the last time you bought something that was made in America just for the intention of saving some American jobs? Now if you were in that perspective, what would you do? Would you buy a DVD player made in China for only USD40, or made in America for USD250?

That's the thing I don't get about inconsistent behavior like this. How can a company be blamed for looking for the cheapest, while consumers are not for sales and low prices?

See, I'm struggling with that a lot in my life. That it comes to my thoughts that how can someone advocate one thing yet vilify another? It's rather like how Congress wants to ban violence but allow porn. Or how people goes to church then turns around and condemns death to Saddam, which they got. Or how some people demand the worst possible punishment for a racial slur just to make an example for everyone else. I know people here are talking about how shock jock, Don Imus should be punished or made an example of for making a racist comment about the Rutgers Women's Basketball team, but I also wonder whether they have thought of racist thoughts themselves, and whether they feel better about themselves, if they can sleep better at night if they somehow burnt Don Imus at the stake? The public outrage feels that way, it seriously does somehow stink of hypocrisy, and Al Sharpton is no less the face of hypocrisy. Sharpton is always there whenever there is racist crime, he seems to thrive on it, he comes down so hard on it like some high-handed religious zealot that it seems the reason he lives is to fight these battles over racism, and he has to appear the most morally outraged among everyone. Sure racism is a crime, but to make an example of it, and to ruin a person's life because of one faux pas, because we all thought of it at one point but just never said it, feels that we're just barbaric because the punishment never did fit the crime. Since when was it right to make an example out of a person for everyone else?

That's hypocrisy man, that's being racist against racists. Prejudiced against the prejudiced. Intolerant of the intolerant. People are smarter and they know how to give such behavior the treatment it deserves; a loud resonating disapproving silence of changing the channel.

I do believe there is a way of reconciling all these observations, and that is my assumptions are wrong. America doesn't value capitalism, or freedom, or lowest cost, or anything else. No singular virtue could be singled out that could explain all these behaviors consistently. The only explanation is that people are inherently selfish. They only act in a way that benefits themselves.

What about me? Why do I want my university to start closing its doors while America opens theirs? Am I being selfish? Maybe, but I don't think so, it's just what I believe is the best possible outcome for everyone, and not just myself. Mainly because I do not see any added value in my university for adding more students, rather that NYU loses more than it gains, because the space for each additional student costs more than his tuition, and reduces all our overall educational experiences by depriving us of one less utility in the university, be it housing or academics or school facilities. You can't argue that my life will be worse of if I didn't know that person, when I don't even know 70% of the students in my own university. Whereas I see myself adding more value to America by staying and working, rather than leaving. How do I justify that? I have a college degree, that already means I'm better qualified for a higher paying job than the 75% of Americans who don't.