Every single night we spent in Georgetown, we spent in the Red Garden. Faith and Ty had described the place with wistful sighs and starry eyes–a kind of magical fantasy land where dreams came true, where magical nymphs roamed with beer fountains sprouting from their serene heads, where fresh unicorn meat was always available on the spit. Where the gods of Olympus themselves came down to frolic and enjoy the pleasures of Earth.
It was, indeed, pretty awesome: an enormous cornucopia of Malaysian, Chinese, Indian, and other Asian cuisines; a battalion of viciously efficient, middle-aged beer waitresses; a sea of free tables filled with dozens of happy customers. But the true glory of the Red Garden laid in the entertainment.