I've been abusing my liver non-stop since the Mid-Autumn Festival, so I needed to do something drastic in order to keep said vital organ from walking out on me.
So I took my liver out on a walk.
Literally.
The trek from Tung Chung to Tai O isn't a difficult one, but it becomes 48 times harder if you've been partying since, like, morning. Considering that our meet-up time was 10am, I had hardly had any sleep and my liver hadn't even yet started detoxifying - much less synthesizing proteins or producing the biochemicals necessary to digest the previous night's nasty ingestions. I needed either more alcohol, or a sandwich. I settled for the latter and proceeded to feel puke-y all throughout the trek.
Good thing my good friends Peter, Greg and my Chris kept up a reliable stream of sparkling conversation to keep my mind off of my liver troubles. Soon enough, even my liver was feeling pretty fly, natch. The entire time, Greg was eating Brussel sprouts and asparagus off of Ziplocked bags; Peter was happily dipping into his bag of dried apricots and mixed nuts; and Chris was munching on apple-cinnamon granola bars. And this disgusting healthiness drowned me in Catholic Guilt once again, of course, so I just resorted to taking photos as usual. My consciousness was still pretty much drifting in and out of sobriety, so how else was I sure to remember what I saw along the way?
We walked past an alarming number of old, abandoned gates that led nowhere - that was the trek's most remarkable thread. I realized then that I was truly in deep shit because how the fuck would I find my liver if it decided to jump out one of those friggin' gates? I'd surely lose it forever.
Peter promised we'd see hot cyclists along the way. We didn't. The cyclists were mostly guys with leathery skin and custard-like butts. But that's OK, coz they were prolly thinking when they saw me: "There's another sorry-ass party boy, huffing and puffing, thinking he's gonna do the detox thing, well, good luck to him."
With Affection,
James
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