The first major town we hit was Kashgar, where there were lot’s of middle aged American tour groups there for the famed Sunday market, the same reason we were there.
Faced with the prospect of the first Saturday night in weeks where we can actually buy a beer, and an early start the next day, we got shit faced drunk with a yank we met on the table next to us. This guy claimed to be have a PHD in Uighur, the local dialect, and when we got kicked out of the restaurant he suggested we find another place open for a drink.
We left it in his capable hands discuss with our taxi driver where was the best after hours drinking den.
In retrospect, asking a taxi driver in an isolated desert outpost where to get a drink after 2am is akin to saying “I’m rat arsed and want to fuck!’.
After getting dropped outside the local brothel we attempted, in vain, to explain that we did actually want a drink and weren’t speaking some kind of cowboy code.