This guy had a ROCKIN' bod, I swear...

8 things to do before you can go home tonight:

1. Arm wrestle a girl and lose convincingly
2. Get someone to touch your bicep
3. Get someone to unbutton your shirt
4. Dance with a black chick (sometimes hard to find in Beijing)
5. Do someone else's job
6. Ride a bicycle
7. Talk to a group of 4 or more strangers
8. Gamble with a Chinese person

It was August, 8th, 2009 and two days before my birthday. I wouldn't be going out on my actual birthday of August 10th, because we would be picking up a number of people from the airport for our North Korea trip. So Nick, my friend/business partner/partner-in-crime, took me out on the 8th and told me that the two of us would be celebrating my birthday tonight.

I had been a little bummed recently about not having a girlfriend, or too many friends in Beijing, and living in a weird old house with poor plumbing and "parents." I had told Nick and he decided on a remedy for my bummy-ness.

"We're going to make a list of 8 things that we have to do tonight before we can go home. To check off an item, either one of us can do it, but you have to do most of them." I went out of my comfort zone that night, but the feeling that this would guarantee a ridiculous night and a memorable story kept me going.

Nick smooothly slid next to a girl sitting next to us at the bar and convinced her to armwrestle me. I tried to tell her that she had no chance at winning, and she would see that if she would only touch my bicep. She refused...

Task 2, Status: Failed, Course of Action: attempt again later

We placed our elbows adjacent to each other on a bar stool and began to wrestle. She quickly resorted to the two-handed "cheater" method and bested me. It was convincing at least.

Task 1, Status: Success, Reward: drink more

We chatted a bit and she told us that she was waiting for her friend and that she was studying classical music and English language. She was a cool girl, but Nick and I were on a mission.

As we walked from Nanjie Bar to our next, as-of-yet-undetermined bar. 顺便, On the way, we passed a woman selling jianbing, 煎饼. A jianbing is Chinese scallion pancake creation which is made by pouring a thin layer of batter onto a circular hot iron slab, next an egg is cracked into the middle and scrambled around, then it is flipped, then hot sauce and salty-brown-paste is slathered onto its insides while scallions and a crunchy 油条, fried bread stick, is tossed in the middle. It is folded into a burrito and served in a plastic bag.

Clearly, I understood the workings of jianbing, and I believed that I could be a jianbing seller. Her business was operated out of a cart, much like the one featured below.

I asked her politely if I could commandeer her cart for a while in order to complete task 5. She responded rather curiously, "You know, you're not the first foreigner to ask me that." Unfortunately, jianbing is a very hot food, and it was a very hot night. In the ten minutes I waited there, there were no buyers. As an alternative... I asked her if I could ride her jianbing Cart. Although the cart had 3 wheels, Nick and I consulted with the judges and asserted that a 3-wheel jianbing Cart is, in fact, a bicycle. I received a brief driving lesson and I was on my way!

The jianbing Cart is an unruly vehicle, tamed only by the most skilled of drivers.

Task 5, Status: Failed

Task 6, Status: Success!

Scoreboard update!

Task #	Task	Status
1	Arm wrestle a girl and lose convincingly	Success
2	Get someone to touch your bicep	Failure
3	Get someone to unbutton your shirt	n/a
4	Dance with a black chick	n/a
5	Do someone else's job	Failure
6	Ride a bicycle	Success
7	Talk to a group of 4 or more strangers	n/a
8	Gamble with a Chinese person	n/a

We wandered to Sanlitun Village, a newly constructed high-class shopping mall, where, on the west side there exists a collection of bars that cater to the young expat crowd, and on the east, a bizarro mirror image of the west. Expat bars are loud and slimy because the expats are loud, slimy, and drunk. The expats sit inside or outside depending on the weather and chill out with a couple of brews or get boozy and dance the night away on a rooftop. But across the way, in bizarro-world, the bars are loud and slimy because they play ear-bleedeningly loud disco/hip-hop (dick-hop?) and have scantily-clad women sing and dance on the stages up front.

At some of the better-funded bars, there are employed "solicitors" outside trying to "convince" potential customers to come in and have a drink. By this I mean that they scream "欢迎光临！(welcome customers!)" in your face as they grab you by the arm and thrust you inside the bar. I imposingly asked a solicitor if I could do his job.

I donned the purple-and-black plaid, fake Dolce & Gabbana, button-up t-shirt that was the defining dress of "Studio 64.”

The waiters brought out a coke each for Nick and I, and we chatted it up as I, albeit quite timidly, attempted to grab people and thrust them into the bar. I commented to one of the solicitors how buff I look in these D&G T's and said to him "For serious... touch my bicep... it's huge."

Task 2, Status: Success, for real this time!

A band of rowdy Irish-folk walked by and they were all quite intrigued with the white-boy trying to sell this Chinese bar. I had told them that the music was good and the drinks were cheap and that they should go inside and have a look.

Task 5, Status: Success, you're doing great!

We went inside to see if there was any work in there that could be done. The boys gave each of us a bottle of Tsingtao, on the house - later that night, I would make "the house" my house.

I saw what appeared to be a group of 4 foreign ladies and I, while still in uniform, walked over and asked them if they needed any help, more drinks, etc. I hoped maybe I could start a conversation with them, but they really, really didn't need any help.

Task 7, Status: Failed

A little sad at having failed so many times tonight, I sat back with my drink and waited for the show that was about to begin on stage. It would be a pole dancing show... and I was very excited.

The guy that got on had a ROCKIN bod, no joke. He was sporting at least a six-pack, maybe he went to Costco and picked up a 30-rack, I can't be certain - at this point I was quite stunned but the rest of the night that of which are about to hear, I assure you, actually happened.

He spun around the pole with the tempestuousness of a whirling dervish all the while maintaining the grace of a plum blossom petal, gently wafting to meet the ground.

Nick and I looked at each other, shared no words, and continued to stare in amazement.

Then she got on. She danced with no delicacy, no apprehension, no remorse. There was power in her movements. She made that pole her bitch. Nick said to me "If we can get her to have a drink with us, then go out for a snack, I'll count everything on the list as finished."

Nick got her to sit down with us, but she didn't have a drink because she was driving home. He also convinced the DJ to play a song and have me bboy (breakdance, whut whut) up on stage. I was reluctant, but the second that song came on, I knew that all my failures of that night would be redeemed when the pole dancer has dinner with me.

Before the 5 of us got in the car, I had to hang up my uniform. The owner of the bar greeted me and asked me what I did on Friday and Saturday nights. "I'll give you a job. Everyone would want to come to the bar with the street-dancin' foreigner." I was honored, but I still refused.

Pole-dancing girl, pole-dancing guy, guy's friend, Nick and I found ourselves at a restaurant a few minutes later. Girl called her girl-friend, and the 6 of us ate and talked.

The male pole-dance, A Quan, had been a Law major at college, but preferred dancing. Female pole-dancer's friend, Bingbing, was a formally-trained modern dancer but worked as a dancer at one of the bars on the same street we were just at.

Nick and I hopped a cab home.

Tonight, success.