It was a rain-splattered Sunday evening in Hanoi and as piss rained down from an unseen appendage in the sky, we struggled to find a safe port. You get two choices in Hanoi at this time of year; either baked into a sweaty clod of man-meat by the blinding heat or washed away in the torrents of rising sewage as rats go kite-surfing past you aboard errant flip-flops. Nevertheless, we found our Ark somewhere in the ritzy gleaming heart of Hoan Kiem; a bar that is sometimes a cafe – called Tadioto.
No rain could stop me, fuck no, not today thank you very much – we are, after all, professionals and the weather is rarely a valid reason to stay sober. We were welcomed in and stripped of our luminescent condoms that had preserved a modicum of whatever dignity I still to cling to from the rain and were ushered into the smoking area. For all those who care about their lungs, health and maintaining their decaying fleshy prisons, Tadioto has a revolving door that keeps all us nihilistic chain-smokers and our lung-blown clouds at bay, like lepers, invisible behind a marked door.