Eventually the gates opened and we all streamed in. After
being scanned and searched for cell phones, cameras and weapons we moved to the
outside bar area. We ordered a couple of beers and by the time I had taken a
couple of sips of mine my colleague had finished his. I should mention here
that alcohol is illegal in the Kingdom, apart from in the embassies, so this
was a rare treat.
In due course the bar closed and we moved to
our assigned tables for the meal. We shared a table with ten other guests and I
found myself seated next to a rather introverted Italian guy with a rather extroverted Swiss
girlfriend. She proudly informed us that she was a sexologist and she clearly
enjoyed the speculative looks that this information provoked from all the males
at the table. Her boyfriend seemed vaguely discomfited by all the attention she
was receiving.
My colleague, meanwhile, had bribed one of the waiters with
SAR100 for him to keep bringing drinks and at regular intervals he would leave
the table and reappear with more drinks for us. Sadly, each time I was ready
for another drink I found that he had finished them. Fortunately there was wine
on the table which I enjoyed with my meal. As the alcohol took hold, my companion’s appreciation of etiquette suffered and he became louder and contradicted nearly every comment made by anyone at
the table (with the exception of the sexologist).
Growing bored he drifted off again, and after he had been missing for about 30 minutes, a rather
austere
French gentleman informed me that he felt that my friend was in need of assistance. He
led me across a marble-tiled courtyard to where my colleague was sitting on a
step. Of his former exuberance there was no sign. His head was hanging, his
eyes were lusterless and his general demeanor was that of one who is not
feeling in the best of health. He promptly confirmed this assessment by
vomiting onto the marble tiling, said vomit splashing onto my shoes and
trousers.
At this, the French gentleman opined that this would
probably be the appropriate moment for us to make our exit. I could not disagree with him so accordingly I returned to my table to get my jacket, only to find it was missing. I saw what appeared to
be my jacket on the back of another chair, but when I tried to take it the
owner of the jacket objected. Once he had proved to my satisfaction that the
jacket in question was indeed his, I returned to my friend where I found that
my jacket had been place next to him (fortunately, not right next to him). All
stops had obviously been pulled out in order to hasten our departure.
I dutifully supported the inebriated one as we exited the embassy, him leaving damp and smelly footprints as he wobbled off
the premises. I found a taxi and off we went. Sadly, his stomach had not yet finished
rebelling against the evening’s insults and he abruptly wound down his window and
sprayed more vomit into the slipstream. The upside of this was that the cars
behind us kept a more respectable following distance following this incident. Eventually
we got home where I had to pay the irate taxi-driver a bonus of SAR30 for a car
wash. I managed to get my colleague up the stairs and into his room, where I
gave him a gentle push in the general direction of his bed, where he collapsed
like a dead man and immediately started snoring.
The next day he asked me if I would like to chip in half of
the bribe he had paid the waiter to keep the booze coming. I politely declined. I
then waited for him to offer to refund the taxi cleaning fee which
I had paid on his behalf. In this respect I was destined to be disappointed.
We have not gone to any other social events together and
regrettably, I have been unable to get any more invitations to embassy events.
My emails to the lady who arranged our invitation to the French embassy appear to be
disappearing into cyber-space - surely she wouldn't be ignoring me...
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