Beer, they say, makes you mad or at least erodes your sanity. Then a town built by beer must be the maddest place on earth, that is, if the thick, humid Beijing summer isn't maddening enough. With visions of a city where beer runs like water, I boarded the plane to Qingdao with my lover, for a two-day getaway filled with tanning at the beach, midnight revelry and of course, lots of the fizzy stuff.

A tubby taxi driver gathered us into his car as soon as I clicked my heels on Qingdao soil. With a gruff Shandong swagger, he shuffled his bulk and gave our door a good slam, effectively shutting out all the stuffiness we had imported from Beijing.

The sky was expansive and an iridescent blue with sea salt in the air-I can still taste it on my lips. My lover and I exchanged naughty winks at one another while the cab jerked its way through the streets of the seaside city. Suddenly, it felt like the whole city was groaning madly beneath us, the shiny streets stretching out like a hundred promised hangovers waiting to happen.

But once we had set out in the hazy drizzle of the evening, beer town was definitely filled with offerings of beer as far as the eye could see but still, it felt oddly empty, devoid of people.

"Where to cut loose?" I wheezed against the gales of sea wind.

The manic driver shot back with authority: "Skip the tourist spots and go to the beach!"as he weaved through traffic lights, "Since your hotel is by the water!"

On both sides of the streets the giant real estate boards with funny phrases, such as "Elite City," flecked my vision, and I wondered if "Mad City" would pay more fitting tribute to the lunacy of this Qingdao cabbie.

One hour later, we landed at the hotel "see" food buffet, where Qingdao beer was poured in liberal quantities, beside sea bass and lobsters. The ominous, thumping pulse of the dining room music made me think that Jaws was going to appear amidst the seafood platters any minute. As the trays and plates were about to be cleared away, I hailed the waitress for a last round of crab. Almost immediately, she hoisted an oversized platter of steaming crab onto our table.

"I hope this is enough, since we are going to end the buffet soon," she said.

"Did you just give me all the crabs left in the buffet?" I winced.

She gestured towards the kitchen. "I can ask the chef to see if there are any more left in the kitchen if you need more than this."

It took everything I could muster not to cough or choke at hearing her reply. In a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant, I tucked into a mound of crabs under the bemused eyes of my man.

Suddenly, I realized that the people themselves are the real madness of Qingdao. We Beijingers have been going stale, stifled in our high-rise offices for too long, so when we encounter a breezy, easy-going nature, or just human beings in their most relaxed state, it is not easy for us to cope. We've been conditioned to be insensitive, blunt and to think that everything is wasting valuable time. At this epiphany, I smiled to my lover sitting across from me and said, "Let's go mad tonight! Let's take the ocean for a spin!"