It goes to show that our birthdays are more important that any public holiday in Singapore.
The first leg happened in Myanmar where the boys came to visit.
Part Two of our girly adventure is back in Singapore.
And as planned by Stanley, it was to be marked with a bang.
Not the type of bang Stanley the sex bunny would have liked it.
But he comprises.
He's always in comprising positions.
Our plan was simple. But it would come with a high price.
High and price being the equally strong operative words.
We would book a two-day-one-night staycation at Marina Bay Sands - at the more expensive, higher levels - where we won't hold back our purse strings.
We started our day with brunch on level 57, right before we checked in to MBS.
Carl was fascinated with the view and whipped out his phone immediately to update his IG.
Stanley wasn't so impressed.
"Why are there no cute guys here, I want to know," he demanded, folding his arms, before whipping out his phone to check out nearby Grindr and Tinder potentials.
Our server for the day was a heavily pregnant and cheery Filipino waitress.
"Congrats," Stanley said spontaneously to the waitress whose name tag read "Regina".
Joining us from the balcony - and late to the party as usual - was Carl the dense one who heard Stanley congratulate Regina.
"Oh, happy birthday to you too," Carl said with a beam.
Lunch - as well as three glasses of Rose - were ordered and slowly savoured.
Two tables away, four Latinas were having a good time too.
It was evident - both visually and audibly - that they were overjoyed beyond all recommended levels.
"If I close my eyes, I would imagine that there are 16 people behind us, including one baby and two animals, likely a hyena and a puppy who's constantly strangled," Stanley said.
As if on cue, the sole responsible Latina squealed and let out a yelp so sharp that if she had tried harder to reach the next note, would be a yelp audible only to dogs.
Stanley spun around dramatically and willed the Latinas to look him in the eye so that he could telepathically burn all four them alive.
But the four tourists were oblivious, protected by a force field that shielded them from the angry stares of other patrons, but wasn't strong enough to prevent their cackling from piercing through to the outside world.
The heavily pregnant Regina - who must be taking all the squealing as practice and a preview to her near future - came by to give all three of us another glass of complimentary Rose, explaining that the Latinas had an early start at brunch, and are on a bachelorette party trip, as if all would be forgiven just for that.
But we won't say no to good service and free alcohol so Stanley graciously accepted the glass, stood up and toasted to Regina's future, and to the future of the would-be Latina bride.
Hours later, Stanley too, was highly pleased, his gait an indication of the number of afternoon drinks he had (five Roses) and betraying his usually manly façade.
"Stan, walk properly, won't you," Carl whispered to a giggly Stanley who found everything so darn funny.
"What's wrong with my walking dear?" Stanley slurred, looking pointedly at Carl, his hips swinging in full motion that would put professional brisk walkers to shame.
Carl turned pale as a few heads turned to watch Stanley.
"Show time is not until 8pm," Stanley shouted across to a group of overly dressed curious China tourists who were looking in our direction.
One of the China aunties, who had no reason whatsoever to wear a large bonnet under shelter, took out her phone and snapped a photo.
Shopping with a drunk person was dangerous.
In his stupor, Stanley had staggered into an expensive watch shop, singled out a well-groomed staff in suit, and went up to him saying :"I want to see your time pieces," stressing the word pieces with lust.
If not for Carl and me, Stanley could have drunkenly parted ways with S$12,000.
We dragged our happy friend back in the room and tossed him in bed.
While Stanley napped, Carl entertained himself with Netflix on his iPad.
I, on the other hand, took a lovely bubble bath.
By evening, Stanley regained some composure and dignity, and we all got ready for dinner.
He put on a black-and-white striped T-shirt and paired it with his tailored navy blue suit which made him look slender.
"I feel fresh," Stanley exclaimed, spraying on some mist on his face, jiggling his shoulders aggressively to prove his point.
Carl, meanwhile, stepped out of the bathroom with a super tightfitting white button down, his bulging python-size biceps putting the shirt's material to the test.
"Darling, I hope you won't sneeze tonight. Any exertion on your part could cause your buttons to shoot out and hurt someone," Stanley said to Carl.
"Speaking of exertion and shooting out at someone," Stanley said, changing the tone of his voice, "I shall restrain myself tonight."
"Tonight, I reserve myself for you both - the actual loves of my life," Stanley said sultrily, putting his arm around two of us.
The three of us had dinner reservations at Ce La Vie that night and our mission was to eat like Queens.
Being friends with someone from the MBS management, Stanley managed to get all three of us a seat with a great view - and by view, this time, I really mean scenery.
"We will start with three negronis," Stanley said to the delightful waiter the moment we stepped into the sky bar.
"Haven't you learnt your lesson? You were drunk this afternoon," Carl said with concern.
"And you nearly lost S$12,000 during your intoxication," I pointed out.
"Oh relax, hunny. When I was drunk I lost things that are way more precious than S$12,000," Stanley said, sharing way too many details with us.
That evening was perfect.
We were to spend the brighter part of the evening with pre-dinner drinks, decked out in our forties best.
Stanley, who loves his drinks as much as the male human body, was quick to order his second negroni, assuring a nervous-looking Carl that "everything is under control".
A few metres from where we were standing, Stanley spotted a group of people walking into the sky bar.
"Hey, these are the news guys," Stanley said to Carl and I.
Stanley would know.
He's adept in the sphere of news and current affairs, specialising on the affairs part.
Carl the dense one on the other hand, was neither current nor was bothered with any worldly affairs other than his social life and gym.
"These are the news guys who go on TV," Stanley pointed out to us.
"I'm going over to say hi," our random friend said, and before we could pull him by his collar, Stanley was already sashaying towards the group.
I had no idea who they are, but I was certainly concerned because Stanley staggered up to each of those supposedly famous newscasters, looked them in the eye, and started to enunciate the words "good evening" to the five of them.
The prettiest of the group of supposed newscasters smiled brightly at Stanley and was about place an order with Stanley when Carl quickly walked over and pulled our uncontrollable friend away, saving the night and preventing anyone from making a fool of themselves.
We decided to retreat to the dinning area ASAP, given that we're out with a loose cannon - the word loose both describing Stanley's current drunk condition and his usual slutty mood when sober.
A glass of warm water with a dash of lime later, Stanley momentarily sobered up and immediately asked to see the wine menu.
Carl and I eyed each other cautiously.
Stanley caught the exchange and said "relax, girls. Tonight is a night where I choose to let myself go because I'm in safe company and for once, I want to break some rules."
Carl shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure what rules - or laws - Stanley might break.
Stanley our alcoholic friend ordered a bottle of 2014 Amarone.
When the Filipino waiter named Jay Jay returned with a bottle of said wine, Stanley actually clapped and bounced in situ in his seat.
Carl, who would usually join in any sort of clapping activity, smiled nervously.
Stanley volunteered to taste the wine.
"This way, I have an extra mouthful," our friend said.
Stanley swirled his wine glass, closed his eyes and sniffed it, and studied the dregs appreciatively.
I was getting hungry, and Carl nodded encouragingly at Stanley in a bid to speed up the entire procedure.
Stanley swirled his glass again and took a deliberately slow sip.
Then he closed his eyes.
Jay Jay, Carl and I watched the performance silently.
Stanley then began to sway his body as if he were in a trance. It started slowly, with a languid rhythm.
Then the swaying picked up pace, and Stanley began emitting noises that sounded like a fat black American woman appreciating her roast meat, all the while going "Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mm.."
Jay Jay watched with keen interest while Carl wiped his cold sweat on his forehead.
Finally Stanley awoke from his trance and looked at Jay Jay in the eye before saying "Good lord, this Amarone is heavenly!"
"Go forth and multiply," Stanley commanded, and Jay Jay took the cue and filled first my glass, and then Carl's.
When he was about to pour wine on Stanley's glass, our friend immediately pointed to the brim of the glass, telling Jay Jay "all the way to the top, darling."
Jay Jay reacted with a roaring laughter and did as he was told.
After the stressful wine-ordering and tasting episode came to an end, Carl took a full sip of the Italian wine partly to drown his sorrows and partly to work up strength to carry on.
We got down to ordering and soon, Jay Jay and his colleagues began filling our table with food that would keep Stanley's mouth busy for now.
Oysters, foe gras and soup of the day were slowly appreciated.
That was followed by medium rare wagyu steak for the birthday boys and pan seared seabass for the weight and health conscious Carl.
As we chewed our food and witnessed evening turn to night, Stanley raised his glass and proposed a toast for the 10th time that night.
There is nowhere in the world I want to be to celebrate my birthday than with you girls, he said.
"Adam and I may have turned 40 - but this is just the beginning."
"And I want to say this to you girls."
"I love you. I fucking love all of you."
And with that, the three of us toasted one another, happy that we are all friends in our mid life, and hopeful that we will be there for one another in the next forty years.
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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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