Watermelon, Pears, and Roasted Pork

I mean...peanuts are okay...but they're quickly dwarfed when matched against China's idea of bar food.

I forgot to mention the tomatoes...but since you really shouldn't eat the skin...it becomes a bit messy.

In addition to the food, the service in Chinese clubs cannot be matched.  The instant you buy a bottle, they swarm.  One guy with the glasses.  One guy with the bottle.  One guy with the tea.  Two guys carrying food.  And...and this is the best...one that simply stays with you the whole night.  He pours drinks (and accepts them), light cigarettes, and serves as your personal assistant.  Here's a screen shot from one of the videos I took showing our happy assistant:

...he was having a very good time.

Not only do you get a personal assistant for the night.  There are security guards all over the club.  They all look the same, no matter what bar.  White plastic hat and a disapproving look on their face.  Surely thinking to themselves, "This is not what my grandfather intended."  Here's a fairly crappy picture I took of one:

...he was not having a very good time.

And if the chandeliers and velvet wall hangings didn't completely round out the tacky vibe...this absolutely fabulous Michael-Jackson-angel-in-heaven piece was waiting outside the bathroom door to greet you in your most sensitive of times.

Only the creepiest of memorials would do.

Just look at that shit.  He has wings.  I like to think that this picture was up long before he passed away.  Simply thanking the man that created such perfect music...and also taking the opportunity to paint angel wings on him.

And here is a small video compilation of the club experience: