Harold and Kumar arrived in Shanghai with wide eyes. They took a train to Nanjing, and then they took a taxi to their new home for the next year, English Frist, a national chain of language schools.
English Frist had really slick brochures that they used to lure young naive graduates with. In reality, they were one of the most notorious language mills in town. When they arrived at the school their bags were confiscated.
Two migrants with gold in their teeth began to rifle through them. Then Harold and Kumar were pushed into a room. There, a scowling man with a Belgian accent read them the riot act.
He told them that he didn't take any guff, and that as long as they behaved, he would consider giving them their passports back. He told them their apartments weren't ready, so they could sleep in the classrooms, "just for a few months." Then he put them to work, on 12-hour split shifts, teaching 'mixed classes', which meant grandmothers, business people, and toddlers.
The courses were called "Super TOEFL" and were designed to boost TOEFL skills through the use of jazz dance routines.
Harold and Kumar taught for seven days straight, before they finally had enough.
"I need to blow off some steam," said Harold (the Asian guy), so let's go to Castle Bar.
They started pounding 10 RMB tequila shots in Castle Bar. They met an American guy, he seemed like a nice old fellow.
However, as the tequila kept flowing he started getting creepier, talking about doing prison time in Detroit, and muttering how he was going to lock Harold in his basement and then make Kumar "wash my hair".
So Harold and Kumar raced out of there and went to 1912, to a club called Mazza. In Mazza, they met a nice group of Chinese guys wearing leather jackets and dark sunglasses. They seemed like friendly lads, sitting round a table munching on a fruit plate, just having some good wholesome fun.
"If they eat fruit, they must be good people," Harold reckoned. So, when one of the guys offered them full glasses of whiskey and told them to down it in a single shot, Harold and Kumar agreed.
"We're in China," Kumar reasoned, "So we should respect the local customs."
Downing that whiskey was the last thing they remember. Harold woke up in the Mazza toilet. He was stripped to his underwear, and his shoes were gone.
Kumar was not so lucky. He was in a hotel room on the wrong side of the tracks. A midget was sitting on his back. When he looked up, the crazy American dude from Castle Bar was there.
"You're going to wash my hair. But first, open your mouth."
Moral of the story: if strangers offer you drinks in Nanjing clubs, be wary. This story is based on things that have actually happened...