Kiddie Table to VIP从孩子桌到贵宾席

Earlier this week, my girlfriend and her family invited me to join them for dinner with a few colleagues. I have endured some rather high-stakes formal meals with them in the past, but my ABC girlfriend assured me that this would be a relaxing cookout at the home of a Taiwanese family friend.
As soon as we arrived, I felt as if I were back home. Our hosts had removed a wall so that only a breakfast counter separated the kitchen from the living room, giving the house a very American feel. As the adults lounged on the Western-style couches, my girlfriend and I chatted on the patio with two of the family’s kids, both also in their early twenties. Although we spoke Mandarin, I didn’t sense the cultural fog that pervades many conversations with Chinese.
The adults were swimming deeper in their cups, but us kids camped out at the kiddie table, watching Kung Fu Panda on HBO. Our new friends told us that they were about to head to a free concert downtown. With nothing planned, my girlfriend and I heartily accepted.
It was a weeknight, so although we looked respectable, none of us were dressed for the town. The four of us took a cab to Spark, one of Beijing’s flashier clubs. Our new friends knew the right people, as we were soon whisked past scantily clad girls to a VIP-only table behind the stage. As my girlfriend and I found our bearings, our Taiwanese pals reappeared, the guy with slicked-back hair and a black blazer, the girl in a blue satin dress and heels. Classic move.
Our private booth was full of other young Taiwanese who had ordered pricey bottle service. After warm-up acts including break-dancing and a BMX rider, the evening’s main attraction readied himself backstage, which, coincidentally, was right next to our table. I am no connoisseur of Taiwanese pop music, but I remembered having seen YouTube videos of a talented singer-songwriter named Crowd Lu (盧廣仲), so I snapped a photo.