The Sevens are a huge event in Hong Kong. Come New Year and people start asking you if you have tickets. I rather ignorantly kept saying “I think my company has a box” and got a number of impressed/incredulous looks. Of course, did not realize what a big deal having a box at the Sevens meant.

In the end, we barely scraped together enough tickets for the whole team. And I had misunderstood and thought everyone was going together, or I wouldn’t have asked to go at all, considering V was showing little interest in getting himself a ticket. Anyway one of the girls in office said I could go with her so I decided to play it by ear.

On Friday, I realised I had no idea what to wear. Credit Suisee, the sponsor, had invited us to their box for a cocktail party. Just one of the perks of being a journo. God knows why they do but we’re not complaining if it’s free booze and tickets to one of the most exciting events in HK. I finally decide to play it safe and wear a black dress. When I walk into office boss gives me a look and later tells me that the Sevens is usually very casual even if it is a cocktail party.

Thankfully, I headed home in my lunch hour and changed into a less formal skirt because when I got there all the bankers were unrecognizable in tees and the place was crawling with journos living it up. In the end, the box proved rather boring but I developed a taste for the rugby after a guy with big frizzy hair explained the basics to me. And I discovered a taste for Pimms, which is like iced tea with a bit of fizz and booze.

Anyway, after unsuccesfully trying to break into a couple of conversations, friend and I decided to give it up and I went down to the stands where some girlfriends of hers were sitting. God the atmosphere is great and they were right down there where everyone was screaming and you had a great view of the guys arses while they practiced. I’ve never been a fan of the big guys but some of the ruggers were really hot.

The next day I had a ticket but wasn’t sure I wanted to go. But I had a ticket and boss would have killed me if I didn’t go. So donned by shortest denim skirt and new white T and headed down sufficiently late with Korean girl J. It turned out that the people we were supposed to sit wiht hadn’t saved us a seat and we were compelled to hang out with an ex-boyfriend of J’s who was with some unattractive investment banker friends. The upside was that we got free Pimms. Sometimes its so inexpensive being a girl. They were all standing around drinking and I found myself a spot to watch the game and chatted with some girls who gave me pointers about who the hottest (in terms of eye candy) teams were. Our spot was opposite the racuous south stands and in the perfect spot to check out ass.

After a bit J got bored of being flirted with by her ex and she called some French guy to get us into a box on the executive floor. I really don’t recommend the box atmosphere but you do get free Pimms. And they had girls going around taking polaroids. And I chatted up a couple of cuties. And actually watched the game even though I was inside the box.

And I realized that I actually like rugby so much I watched the finals on Sunday on telly. Anyway, how much of an attention span do you need to watch seven mintues a half of sweaty rugged men banging into each other?

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