It's Friday night and there is merriment to be had in SoHo. While friends wait patiently in their bar of choice one thing lies between you and that first tipple – a journey. A plentiful supply of taxis should render this painless, but what happens when Hong Kong’s public chauffeurs are nowhere to be seen?

I exit my building only to step into a wall of humidity, the impact is stifling. Closing my eyes in disdain, the image of a steam room dense with water vapour burns itself into my eyelids. I become suddenly aware of several things- each of them currently upon my body. Winter socks pulled a little too high, European jeans thick with insulation, a fitted shirt taught across the nape of my neck and hair held fast by dry sea-salt. Whether I charge into SoHo or stand entirely still each of these things will change. Hair will melt, shirt will soak and jeans will do their best to bake me from below the waist.

A steady stream of occupied taxi’s whistle past, inhabitants basking in the air-conditioned carriages, blissfully unaware of my torment. This won’t do, I’m feet away from the Sheung Wan end of Hollywood Road with no hope of vehicular assistance. I swallow hard and recall the only solution currently available me - the 7-Eleven Rally.

Thanks to a staggering concentration of 7-Elevens in Central, this technique can be employed whilst venturing in and out of SoHo in every direction. A simple process whereby the overall journey is broken into stages, each stage concluding with a 7-Eleven and a cold beer.

Walking the knife-edge between a good and gentle pace, the first stage brings me to the Cat Street 7-Eleven. Walking techniques vary between participants but I do all that I can to keep my arms wide and high – a small aesthetic sacrifice gladly made in the name of ventilation.

Breaching the entrance brings fast respite. Locating the air-conditioning unit I quickly pinpoint the coolest spot. Using the time indoors to call friends I’m able to confirm the destination -Club 71- and plan my next stage. Mapping Hollywood road, the 7-Eleven at the bottom of Elgin Street is my next checkpoint. Its quite a distance, but for the most part, flat terrain.

Purchasing a bottle of water for the road, I’m on my way. Paying close attention to the store fronts that lay ahead I cross to the left side of the street and ensure proximity to several doorways offering columns of cool air for me to glide through. Midway along Hollywood I happen upon an unnamed antique store with a distinctly arctic atmosphere. Like a moth to the flame I’m drawn in, loitering near the threshold with a vacant expressionless veneer.

The storeowner and I lock eyes and, as she comes to understand my motives we reach a silent agreement about my immediate departure. I move on, eyeing the bend ahead eagerly awaiting the 7-Eleven signage.

After two short minutes I reach the 7-Eleven on Hollywood. Within throwing distance of Club 71, this is my final opportunity to cool down, the end of stage two. The store is shallow with a large open frontage, which means journeying to the very rear is a requirement.

Bringing a theatrical element to the proceedings I open the walk in refrigerators and make a play for an anonymous beverage. Pausing as if caught by indecision I carry the farce for a good few minutes whilst enjoying the whir of icy air. Its takes no time at all to make certain that my clothes are bone dry. Success.

Departing the store I shoot the clerk a tentative smile and venture across the road to the Club 71 alley.

Slipping into '71 without a hint of perspiration I settle into a much needed gin fizz, with the first mouthful my mind wanders back to the steam room imagery from earlier in the night. Another friend arrives moments later, red-faced and visibly damp. As he takes his seat I ask if he wants to know how to avoid his current predicament, he laughs mockingly before asking me to elaborate.

I ask if he’s a rally fan -he is- and I begin to explaining the various stages...