I have a thing for rooftop bars, because they provide lots of things to do!
We watched this inner-tube fisherman be surpassed by industrial age technology. We felt no envy for the kiteman, suspended by his head.
We felt confusion about the party happening in the hotel room behind us. I'm not aware of such parties happening beyond the realm of television.
Being on the rooftop, you can look down on the people at the fancy restaurant, who prefer their phones to the company and food at hand.
It's a good time to contemplate some of life's mysteries, such as, "is food-grade wax the best way to de-feather (sic. because "pluck", no?) ducks?"
Can emergency systems be sexist? Do the manfolk of fire not have more modern technology or do they hang out with the fisherpeople?
Staying on the theme of technology, would you trust the world clock of an alarm system that gets low and high confused? (I had a friend in university with the same problem, incidentally).
Rooftops are a good time to contemplate the endless mysteries of marketing. Worried that your fries too closely resemble a vegetable? Need more cholesterol? Well the sad pink chicken urges you to eat his highly processed cousins' meat!
And at the end of the night, you can contemplate the mysteries of Karma. Singapore's
phenomenal tunnel depths burst forth at my building yesterday. I went to take a picture at the beginning of this, but as I did so, a man in crutches fell here, because crutches don't work in gushing waste-water. So I had to come back, because obviously that was a bad time for a picture. I'm still contemplating what this means.
