溫哥華失眠夜
嬉笑怒罵皆成文章
正文
Meeting your net pals is perhaps the ultimate goal of net chatting. At least it is an exciting and healthy weekend socializing pastime. The curiosity, the cliff-hanging suspense, the expectation,…..all would be satisfied in full by the upcoming meeting, you console yourself.
The preparation for the meeting can be extremely painstaking, as you want to maintain the net image that you have so carefully fabricated through chatting: eloquent, witty, knowledgeable, generous, chivalry, romantic, and all other virtues you can think of.
So before setting out, you would call up your net pal(btw, you only know each other by your net names and call each other as such. Some confusion may occur if it is someone else who takes the phone):
“Dear Forget-me-not , It is Touch-Me-Not calling. I am taking the Business Class Flight in a minute, and when I arrive a limo will pick me up and take me to the Shangri-la Hotel. I am not sure of the room number yet, but it is definitely on the Executive Floor. I will call you once I am escorted into my suite. OK? See you soon!”
Then you rush to the local bus station and squeeze onto one of those inter-county coach which allows travelers and their livestocks on board. You will end up sitting next to a cage of home-bred chickens or ducklings. The bus zigzags its way on the unpaved country roads as the driver is a part-time economist who does not want to pay the tolls to get into the inter-country super-highway.
After two or three hours of rocking and rolling you gather your loosened self and limp off at the destination. You then check into one of those family-run hostels near the bus station. The nightly rate is reasonably inexpensive, if you don’t mind the leaky toilet, stained wall-paper and carpet. The air-conditioner is out of order, and the blanket smells.
But who cares? You take a cold shower as the hot water is slow in coming. You groom yourself and dress up like an company CEO, and take a motorbike ride to Sangri-la.
You call your pal again,
“Dear Forget-me-not, I am now waiting for you at the lobby of Sangri-la. I am sitting at the lobby Cafe sipping a Margarita, wearing a light blue Armani shirt, black YSL pants, gold-rimmed Cartier glasses, yellow Versace tie. Easy to recognize.”(All imitation products from God-knows-where.)
You wait and wait. Your net pal is nowhere to be seen. Then your cellular phone rings.
“Hi, Touch-me-not, it is me Forget-me-not. I am extremely sorry I cannot meet you this time as my boss is sending me on an overseas business trip. I am now at the Airport International Departure. I am deeply touched that you have taken all these trouble coming to see me. My heart goes with you. Have a pleasant stay. Bye………..”
So that night you locate a local net bar and chat your night away till dawn, and take the first bus home, again sitting next to a cage of home-bred chickens or ducklings, rocking on the unpaved country road………….
The preparation for the meeting can be extremely painstaking, as you want to maintain the net image that you have so carefully fabricated through chatting: eloquent, witty, knowledgeable, generous, chivalry, romantic, and all other virtues you can think of.
So before setting out, you would call up your net pal(btw, you only know each other by your net names and call each other as such. Some confusion may occur if it is someone else who takes the phone):
“Dear Forget-me-not , It is Touch-Me-Not calling. I am taking the Business Class Flight in a minute, and when I arrive a limo will pick me up and take me to the Shangri-la Hotel. I am not sure of the room number yet, but it is definitely on the Executive Floor. I will call you once I am escorted into my suite. OK? See you soon!”
Then you rush to the local bus station and squeeze onto one of those inter-county coach which allows travelers and their livestocks on board. You will end up sitting next to a cage of home-bred chickens or ducklings. The bus zigzags its way on the unpaved country roads as the driver is a part-time economist who does not want to pay the tolls to get into the inter-country super-highway.
After two or three hours of rocking and rolling you gather your loosened self and limp off at the destination. You then check into one of those family-run hostels near the bus station. The nightly rate is reasonably inexpensive, if you don’t mind the leaky toilet, stained wall-paper and carpet. The air-conditioner is out of order, and the blanket smells.
But who cares? You take a cold shower as the hot water is slow in coming. You groom yourself and dress up like an company CEO, and take a motorbike ride to Sangri-la.
You call your pal again,
“Dear Forget-me-not, I am now waiting for you at the lobby of Sangri-la. I am sitting at the lobby Cafe sipping a Margarita, wearing a light blue Armani shirt, black YSL pants, gold-rimmed Cartier glasses, yellow Versace tie. Easy to recognize.”(All imitation products from God-knows-where.)
You wait and wait. Your net pal is nowhere to be seen. Then your cellular phone rings.
“Hi, Touch-me-not, it is me Forget-me-not. I am extremely sorry I cannot meet you this time as my boss is sending me on an overseas business trip. I am now at the Airport International Departure. I am deeply touched that you have taken all these trouble coming to see me. My heart goes with you. Have a pleasant stay. Bye………..”
So that night you locate a local net bar and chat your night away till dawn, and take the first bus home, again sitting next to a cage of home-bred chickens or ducklings, rocking on the unpaved country road………….
or are dreaming to have such an experice...:)