Birthday Time Again

(Or, Cue "Creeping Death")

Lying awake in a pool of my own sweat, delirious with exhaustion but unable to sleep because my apartment was as steamy as a wet fart in a sauna, I pondered the meaning of my impending birthday. The big two-seven. The year I get even closer to thirty. The year any strands of childhood innocence are forever lost. The year I'm no longer able to legally (in China, anyway) get away with having toddlers call me "Neil ge ge" instead of "Neil shu shu". Before I know it, I'll have succumbed to arthritis and gout-y feet.

Death-related paranoia aside, another one of my favorite procrastinating activities is reminiscing. In my humid funk, I realized that, in a month, I will have celebrated 4 birthdays in China. FOUR. Putting the years into perspective, time flies but we also manage to get a lot done in the process. So you know what that means: memory lane time. (I'll start with the first year I celebrated my birthday in China, which actually brings the China-birthday count up to five.)

2002: The day I turned 21, officially legal to pound shots in the USA without getting arrested, I was in Nanjing, drinking a pint and watching Brazil sodomize the German team during the World Cup final. In a room full of Germans. I was happy to make it out alive.

2003: My dormant Alzheimer's has erased this memory. Too bad.

2004: Sox vs. Yankees in the Bronx. We lost. I'd rather not talk about it...

2005: My first birthday in China was celebrated with a team that have since become my family-away-from-home and was a clear demarcation between "quiet reserved" China Neil and the more suitable "social fun" China Neil. The week after, I'd gain a subordinate who would go on to become a brother-away-from-home for me in China. Not a bad present.

2006: Remember that 21st birthday? Well, bless the World Cup, because it comes back into my life every four years. I celebrated 25 in Shanghai, drinking a gin and tonic and watching the Argentinians get unceremoniously raped by the German team during the semis. In a room full of Germans, who seemed hellbent on making up for the crushing defeat 4 years prior. *Sigh*

2007: Having made a pilgrimage to my father's birth place, I met long lost relatives and dined on roast pigeon in Canton. A very special birthday.

Now we're in 2008. One of the more memorably pivotal times in my young life. The year Taiwan was saved from further shame at the hands of Ah-Bien. The year we FINALLY are saved from Bush by getting a new president (Obama in '08). The year China is supposed to find salvation via the Olympic Games (but might end up further alienating itself from the world). The year my childhood superheroes unite to save the world in the Summer Blockbuster blitz (see: Indiana Jones, Batman, Mulder & Scully, the Boston Celtics). And, perhaps most importantly, the year I turn 27.

Since nothing recalls blissful youth more than heavy metal madness, here's another virgin-slaying, scrotum-crushing, baby-smashing serving of Metallica (who coincidentally formed the year I was born) from '89, the year guitar deity Kirk Hammett turned 27 (what the fuck am I doing with my life?!!). You love all this number play, admit it. Sing along with your kids.