The Mid-Atumn Festival - Lantern Madness in Victoria Park, and the Galagranian Perplexion.

This week, both Wednesday (the day after the Mid-Autumn Festival) and Friday (National Day) were holidays, and though I knew I would have to most likely come into work for a couple hours each day, I knew that I would at least be able to sleep in on those mornings. Folks at work recommended that I head over to Victoria Park in Causeway Bay to check out the Lantern Festival. The central feature of the Mid-Autumn festival is the paper lantern, lit up inside with a candle, and huge numbers of people come out to carry their own little lantern but also to check out the huge lantern displays that are assembled in the huge open sports court of the Park.

After hitting the gym (I've been doing that a lot lately - finally hit the 170s, I fully rule the planet and I am a god), I made some dinner and underwent some rapid preparation since it was already after 9pm. Big San Mig, a little Anchor Steam mini-joint (what we call a 12-ounce bottle in the States) and a wee Victor to add a little vidliness to the experience. After putting on my most flavorful red bobo Stanley Beach t-shirt, chocolate pants and matching New Balance classicks, I loaded the backpack with my camera, a couple more big San Migs and a Gatorade. Gotta protect that liver at all costs, baby - especially with victor around. The ipod was charged and I was ready to go.

I left around 10pm, belly fulla beer and a backpack to match, and took the MTR (the subway) to Causeway Bay - about three stops on the blue line. The subway here is freakin' sweet - only about as extensive as the Bart in SF, but more efficient and modern. The cars are wide and clean, and the electronic maps on the walls, similar to the new cars in the NYC subway, show not only the next stop but which lines are accessible from each stop and there's an arrow that indicates exactly where the train is. In addition, it makes more sense than the NYC setup in that the stops you have already hit are lit, then there's the arrow, then the one you are headed to is flashing. In NYC, the stops you have yet to hit are the ones that are lit, which in my opinion makes no fucking sense whatsoever. The path from car to car is also wide, enclosed, and doorless, like the huge two-bus city buses that roam the city. I'm willing to bet that few of you know what the hell I'm talking about, but I have faith that you can imagine what the inside of a NYC bus looks like.

The train was packed with people headed to the park - mostly young people in their teens and early twenties, and - dig this - a bunch of them are chatting away on their mobiles. That's right - perfect reception fifty feet down on a moving train. Oh yeah, New York is the center of the universe, blah blahblahblahblah. There were some real vidly cats on there too - this one woman was all decked out in a miniskirt and crazy headwraps and white patent leather boxing boots that said "FUCK YOU Series" on the heel. Wild-ass makeup, the whole bit. 21st-century punk rocker. A lot of the young kids dress that way, though most of them look like regular teenagers. As we reached Causeway Bay, the train emptied out and I was feeling great. Had the Ghetto Prowler 2004 pumping in the ipod, everything in my belly was doing what it was manufactured to do, and I weaved my way through the crowds like water.

"Why go and rip a rapper when he's flowin' like water?/I'd rather rush a television reporter..."

That's some old Public Enemy for you - "Move!" from the Apocalypse album. That's that song where he says something like, "With no complaint/Givin' uppin' I ain't/On the mike - like Karl Malone in the paint." That shit is hot. And the Mailman is still doin it. Shit. That's hot. Well, you gotta hear it to know that it's hot, I guess. I think that album is heavily underrated. The first track - which is just an intro - gets me more amped than any - I mean ANY - Jay-Z crap I can think of. That chainsaw bit, over and over? "And just in case you forgot - I PUMP IN KILOWATTS!" Terminator X doesn't get enough respect for his innovations in heavily textured, multisonic, high-BPM illness.

Ok, so back to Causeway Bay. I reach street level and the place was mobbed. The streets had been blocked off for pedestrian traffic, and I had no idea which way to head. I decided to walk left, and I was correct - the park was about three blocks down and right across the highway exit. The park had been completely decorated with colorful spherical paper lanterns hanging from the tall lampposts, both white and colored lights strung on wires from post to post, and hundreds of paper lanterns being carried by the revelers. On top of that, there was an abundance - I mean everywhere, peoples - of those little stringy neon joints that people were wearing or using in some other fashion. You know what I'm talking about - that lightstick crap, that can be blue, green, red, purple, pink, etc, and they last a few hours? People were wearing them as anklets, necklaces, bracelets, all kinds of configurations. I saw a little kid who had fashioned them into giant round glasses, Harry Potter style, and another boy had taken about twenty of them and made a little soccer ball that he was kicking around with his dad. It was all pretty cool, but, you know, not all that amazing.

The huge sports court area - about 100 meters by 300 meters - was bordered by info tents and first aid tents and stuff as well as little craft tents where kids were lining up to do face painting, weave palm fronds into little birds and shit, and stuff like that. I know, it sounds corny, but folks were on it - lines for every one, I'm telling you. At the center of the area on one side, a pop star was finishing up her set, and the crowd was most dense there, though there were families, groups of friends, and couples all over the place. With the Ghetto Prowler still blasting, I found my way to the first of four huge displays that were assembled here and there for people to check out. One was an enormous replica of a little lantern with a tiny train running around the top half and smaller lanterns hanging from it; another was sponsored by Hong Kong Disneyland (no idea when that thing is going to be built) and was a castle with huge mushrooms placed around it, all of it lit up from the inside. Damn, I need to get some Nikon software and a cable and load some damn pictures. A third display was a series of tall, narrow rockets with, like, big Saturn rings around them and little animals climbing up the rockets - a rat, a monkey, shit like that. I'm not sure what they were going for with that one. The animals looked happy as hell to be climbing up those rockets, that's for sure.

Ok, so the Victor is treating me just fine, and I am always amazed at its ability to make everything perfecto, but I had to find a restroom. I asked one of the info cats where one was, then asked him if I could drink alcohol here, to which he replied, "No, no alcohol here." Great. I was planning on just swilling and chilling, and now I've gotta get on some James Bond shit with the San Miguels. I found the loo, which had changing rooms, and briefly considered going into one to pound a bottle, but there were cops in there so I just took care of business in one of those stainless steel troughs like they have at some of the shitty college bars. Maaan, the last time I was subjected to that nonsense was in like '92, at some stupid bar near the Dunkin' Donuts and the Blue Route. I was with Fra, Fleming, Swanny, and Mario, and little Fra froze up - went in there and couldn't deal with the cattle trough pisser. Dying to piss, and couldn't piss. That was funny.

Anyway, I get done with that and find a spot where I can discreetly take down one of these bottles. I take some photos, check for 5-0, and pop one of the bottles and wrap the t-shirt that I had packed to keep the bottles from breaking around the bottle. And I pound the thing. Just pull and pull on it every time I pick it up. You know what it reminded me of? Being back in high school, drinking quarts of Bud and pretending to be Ad-Rock. Picked it up four times and it was empty. A tru tank warrior. I was laughing at the memory - it was just because of the bottle and all, feeling a little nervous and all that - ah, good times. I figure now's a good time for the Gatorade and the other victor, so down that goes and it's off to see the other side of the area and the last lantern display - a long array of ships, fish, and seaweed arranged along a backdrop of the sea. It was the coolest one in my estimation, though the huge lantern was pretty awesome too. Cameras and phones - and phones being used as cameras - are everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There were probably a thousand devices of that sort in the park at that point. I think I had moved on to MOP by then, and I'm just fully feeling it; I get to say all the lyrics out loud, including all the nigga this and nigga that (and believe me, MOP is fond of saying nigga to say the least), doing my little E-40 "Ooooooo" and "Unnnnnhhhh" and all that. It was great. I'm getting a lot more used to having fun on the solo tip, and I just wasn't feeling lonely - or even that alone - at all. Yeah, I know, the mood modification...you do what you can, I guess. But there's a certain clarity and level-headedness combined with some serious notgivingafuckness that the victor and alcomohol generates, and it's perfect if you're alone with an ipod and fat beats. I was loving it fo sho.

So things are starting to thin out, and I take the time to have another high school pull-fest with the other San Miguel and make my way home. A couple who had been sitting next to me during the first pull session - and English girl and an Asian boy - were still there, busily trying to attach those neon stringy thingies on every possible part of her body. I briefly considered telling them to hold off on the neon dress-up session until they got home - and naked - but thought better of it. To my right, a stray cat was warily grubbing on some food that revelers had left behind, and I took my last photos of the night. Put on Soundbombin' II and headed for the subway. All in all, a great night.

Peace to the gods and the earths,
Chucky