Pig Party

This is the year of the Fire Pig - not that I know what it means, since I'm not Chinese. Ok, scratch that, I actually have Chinese blood - nearly half. If you have to know, it's actually a cumulative total of three-eighths Chinese blood pumping in my veins, my father being three-quarters Sino. It's just that you can't tell from looking at me, my other ethnic legacies deciding to assert themselves more forcefully.

But this isn't really about my gene pool, it's about the Chinese New Year that just passed. It was fun celebrating another holiday, what with the parties and fireworks everything. Over at Waterfront, the hotel's Chinese owners decided to blow another mini-fortune on the fireworks display, and the City's First Lady was happy to oblige them with the dotting of the dragon.

My sports club also decided to celebrate the event, with a Chinese garden buffet, entertainment, and natch, fireworks. This year, in order to make sure the members of the club attended, the Board decided to force all the members to buy tickets - two tickets, mandatory.

That was a bummer, since who wanted to pay for two tickets when I wasn't sure if I would be socially desirable that day. Obviously, the board did not take into account my multiple personalities, and that sometimes I'm not entirely sunny and bright. I had no choice but to pay for the tickets (already included in the monthly statement, I'm afraid).

So I rounded up member-friends, we all didn't want to waste our cash, and even though the celebration in Waterfront the night before was already quite spectacular, (and I ended up bringing a box of tikoy home), we decided to just chance it.

And what a smashing success the event turned out to be, as members came, spilled over into the pool, the tennis court, the garden, the streets - they were everywhere! So, my entirely innocent question was, were they there to celebrate, or were they, like me and company, too stingy to waste the mandatory tickets?

Maybe a bit of both, but clearly, the club hadn't anticipated this many attendees. People were still arriving an hour and a half after the published dinnertime of 6:30 - maybe they had the same idea that it was better to eat after the stampede. But that turned out to be a bad idea, as the line for registration was still 30-deep, and staff were scrambling around putting tables where before, there used to be patches of grass.

Of course, there was hardly any food left, and people lined up at buffet tables only to find that the food had melted away. So they had to find another buffet table with lines that were miles longer (but at least, the lucky ones already had plates!). The waiters all fled, popping up a few times to deliver what the kitchen could whip up, and then vanishing quickly before somebody nasty like me managed to put a spell on them.

But what was remarkable that night was the spirit of cheer and good will that prevailed despite the hassle and the heat. Aside from a few grumblings here and there, the partygoers were mostly tolerant, bearing with the inconvenience good-naturedly. Half of the city's richest population was there, but you wouldn't know it, from the way the city's economic elite meekly let themselves be bundled into cramped tables, eating semi-leftovers while seated on cheap plastic chairs and drinking tepid iced tea.

If this had been Manila, heads would have already been rolling steadily, splashing their bloody way into the pool. A coup would have been instigated, and the Board of Directors would have found itself facing snap elections. But this was Cebu, and it was Chinese New Year. It was time to bring out the Chinoise outfits while eating noodles for long life (or, is that for birthdays? I forget. But this should do for purposes of establishing the evening's atmosphere).

And so people smiled, chatted, celebrated with their families. No bloody revolution occurred, and there was nothing more combustible than the firecrackers. We all waited anxiously for the raffle, and when we didn't win a single prize, we kept our thoughts about how to grab the prizes from the lucky blokes to ourselves. We discussed our fortunes, and compared horoscopes. Then we walked to our cars, wishing one another, "kung hei fat choy!"