On my second full day in China, I got up around 8 am. For some reason, I always end up having to get out of bed earlier during on vacations than I do during work. I sleep less, party more. By the end of my vacation, my tattered body is usually begging me to get back to the well-rested, relaxing world of work.
I hopped on the tourbus for the Forbidden City. I guess Wednesday's a slow day because it was just me and some giggly chick in extremely tight, cleavage-flaunting clothes.
She was from a small city in China called Hubei, and after a brief conversation that involved a total of seven words of English, eight words of Chinese, and fifty words of Charades, my suspicions were confirmed. The girl was flown over to hang with her sugardaddy. I'm assuming he had to work that day, so the dude had his kept woman go on a tour of Beijing in the mean time.
To get to the Forbidden City, you walk across Tianamen Square. The Square, like most of Beijing, is almost excessively gigantic. In the middle is Mao's mausoleum, where there was a long line of fans who just had to see his embalmed corpse.
The mausoleum was the same size as the Staples Center and heavily guarded. My guess is all that security was to prevent someone from stealing Mao's body and doing some "Weekend at Bernie's"-type shit with it. After all, the Chinese are so infatuated with the guy, you could probably take over the whole country using a dead Mao. Just prop the guy in front of a mike and have a ventriloquist stand behind him and say his takeover speech. Then with the help of advanced hydrolics, you can make him move his arms and head like the Pirates of the Caribbean...
DEAD MAO: Chairman Mao's back baby! Time to run this joint once again.
OFFICIAL: Um, not to sound skeptical sir. But you've been dead for several decades.
DEAD MAO: Ain't no thing. Nothing can bring down the Maoster. Not even death!
OFFICIAL: Imposter! Mao never referred to himself in the third person, and besides, your lips aren't moving.
DEAD MAO: The Mao-licious One is speaking to your minds, foolish mortal. Now shut yo mouth or Mao will eat your brains!
The entrance to the Forbidden City is impressive, but gives you little clue as to how utterly amazing it is behind the wide moat and tall red walls. Once you get beyond the first entrance, with its giant framed portrait of - you guessed it - Mao, you come across yet another grand entrance. And then another. Quite the teases, those Chinese.
Then you come upon the main courtyard. To truly appreciate this moment, it helps to have watched "The Last Emperor," because you can't but help picture this immense place filled with neat rows of thousands upon thousands of soldiers, eunechs, and officials kneeling in unison.
Speaking of movies, the kept woman went and hired a service where a camera man follows you around the Forbidden City and films your every move while narrating historical facts about each location. They then stamp it onto a CD-ROM which I assume her sugardaddy will masturbate to when she's not around.
I guess it was kind of appropriate for me to be touring the place with a girltoy, because much of the palace centered around the Emperor and his concubines. The only other guys allowed to live there had their nutties lopped off (I don't care how awesome this place was, no dream pad is worth losing your kibbles.) Behind the main throneroom is where the really fascinating part is. That's the City part of the Forbidden City, with dozens of elaborate courtyards housing the ultimate pimp and his royal biatches.
According to the tourguide, some Emperors had as little as a few dozen while others had hundreds. Now that might seem a bit much for those clueless folk who may wonder why one man would need THAT many women. My guess is it's like my shopaholic female friends who have hundreds of outfits and shoes but are always complaining to me that they have nothing to wear to that weekend. Lord knows if I were Emperor, I'd be the Imelda fucking Marcos of concubines.
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