Sunday Night Out at LaB
2nd April, 2006

Racked with guilt for harbouring uncharitable thoughts on the nominees for Best Performer (Dance Category) in the upcoming Arts Awards (just because my favourite Miss Diva was not nominated), I dragged myself to WJ's (one of the nominees) debut singing performance at LaB on Sunday night.

As I stepped into the packed smoky atmosphere of LaB, I thought I had been tossed into a time warp, shuttled back to my university days, more specifically SOAS's basement bar filled with its unwashed anthropology students consuming their lunchtime staple diet of samosas and beer.

Yes, not many people know that there is a law faculty in SOAS. There were 30 of us in the first year but only 14 graduated by the end of the third year. They sieve out half of us at the end of the first year. I suspect they don't want us to form an alumni, that's why there are so few of us in this world.

Two hours earlier, I had visions of myself enjoying a pleasant evening, dining with my friend, whilst enraptured by WJ's solo recital of some enchanting classical songs. Reality refused to mirror my illusions....Two hours later, as I was listening to dear WJ belting out his freshly composed pop songs interspersed with his contemporary dance - yes, pop songs - I sensed these 2 women checking me out. It dawned on me that perhaps Sunday night is LaB's gay night and by being there, I am somehow misleading them into thinking that I too bat for the same team. Especially since I had turned up with a robust looking female friend. There was really no point in clinging on to WJ (who was by then sweating profusely) at the end of his performance to dispel this misconception by pretending to be his girlfriend for I fear he too is of the Frangipani crowd. It would only serve to validate my new found position as a member of the same cricket team.