Blok M diary, November 2003

The end is nigh

It’s Saturday evening, and the Id starts in a few days. The Reveller’s bike ride to the Blok is the fastest on record – the roads are empty, the traffic lights all magically locked on green – if only it was always like this! Jakarta has decamped to the kampongs, and though the city streets are silent the TV news is a litany of accidental slaughter and motoring mayhem on the main roads out of Jakarta.

Downstairs in D’s Place there’s a goodly crowd of guys quaffing and chatting, and a handful of the older girls nattering away merrily to each other and the chaps. It’s something of a reunion in the bar, there are old friends the Reveller hasn’t seen for ages – news is exchanged, yarns swapped, and jokes recounted. All in all, a pleasant hour’s sociable drinking.

Deciding to have a fling at the pool table, the Reveller primes himself with a couple of Pernods and slams the balls around with his usual panache, potting the white three shots in succession. Taking this as a Delphic portent, he packs it in – and clutching his plastic beaker, wanders off upstairs to see what’s cooking.

There’s something different about the upstairs bar, but it takes some some time to work out exactly what it is. As the Reveller’s eyes adapt to the dark, he realises that the tables and chairs have gone, and the bar stools are back. The counter is still closed, and there’s no dancing, but the old place looks more like a bar and less like a seance on a wet afternoon than it did last week.

The girls are drifting in, and by ten o’clock the place is full of them. There aren’t many of the D’s regulars – most of them have gone back to their kampongs in Indramayu – but lots of the Top Gun beauties are here, almost all the Oscars talent, and a handful of the Lintas Melawai and Club stalwarts. Cheerful smiles and beckoning flutters of sparkling eyes entice the Reveller, but he manfully resists these temptations and settles into a comfortable corner to smoke, drink, and observe.

Rumour for improvement

Whilst later quaffing with his cronies and lightly flirting with the girls, the Reveller learns – with a heavy heart – that hopes for a new disco on Jalan Pelatehan have been dashed. It seems that the consortium of potential investors couldn’t agree, so the plans have crumbled. Meanwhile, the word is that the owner of the block which houses Lintas Melawai is only waiting for planning permission for redevelopment to start – as soon as that comes through, down comes the building. It’s reported that LM will be reopening after the Id, but for how long is in the lap of the Gods and the Jakarta planning authorities.

Now this scenario should be a godsend for the owners of Oscars and Top Gun, either of which could – with a bit of imaginative planning and internal alteration – take over the role and function of Lintas Melawai. But as the saying goes, chance would be a fine thing. These two venerable institutions have – in the immortal words of Monty Python – about as much imagination as a caravan site.

The Reveller’s bet is that Oscars has the greater potential, as it’s on two floors and has plenty of space. If the management ripped out the tables and chairs from the centre of the downstairs bar and made the area into a dance floor, sacked the pathetic bands they hire and installed instead a real disco sound system, dimmed the lighting and vamped up the air conditioning, you’ve got a pretty good disco. Entice the girls in, and voilà!

Winding down

By eleven or so, the girls are getting fidgety and glancing at their watches – what’s happened to the ladies’ lucky draw? They all have their tickets, but there’s no action yet. The boss confides to the Reveller that over the last few nights there’s been a stampede out of the bar the minute the draw has been held, the girls all making a beeline for the upmarket night spots in the town centre hotels in a desperate hope that they’ll hitch up with a guy there. He cannily decides to delay the lucky draw to keep the crowd in and the guys buying drinks, a ploy which works splendidly.

There are generous donations from the guys, so the draw turns out to be a good one – well worth waiting for.  Four of the girls shriek with delight as they each win enough money to pay their bus fares to the kampongs, and buy those essential little gifts for the family.

The exodus starts, and by midnight most of the girls have gradually drifted off either northwards or homewards. The Reveller bids his fond farewells and vrooms off into the night. It’s been as pleasant a Ramadan evening as you could wish, and the impending four days of closure will soon pass. Roll on Friday night!