I was in thailand for 28 hours over the weekend – from touchdown to takeoff. The occasion was a stag party for one of my colleagues, who’s flying back to the states to get married next week.
Bangkok was hot.
The air is hot. The earth is hot. You can feel the pavement through your shoes. Thai food, of course, is hot. And Thai women…
Well, I don’t like to generalise about such things. But it was a stag party after all, so I had to say it.
The highlights of the weekend were a broken windshield and a chili shot.
We played golf in the afternoon on a nine hole par three course designed as a miniaturised sampling of famous courses around the world. We had caddies, which was a first for all of us, but it’s basically mandatory in Thailand. These were a bunch of giggling women who knew their golf, and their golfers.
For the first couple of holes, I second-guessed my caddy’s club choices, with bad results. So I followed her advice for the rest of the round. She also gave me quite a bit of coaching along the way. I’m no golfer, and I needed it.
Andy hooked his drive off the seventh tee and could only watch as the ball veered toward the adjacent highway. We lost sight of it then heard the one sound we didn’t want to hear. The crunch of safety glass smashing. The ball took out the windshield of a passing truck. The truck stopped. The driver got out to survey the damage and perhaps identify the culprit. We stood around like idiots until the caddies frantically ordered us to keep playing.
Jeff, the bachelor, won the day. As it should be.
After golf, we had dinner at Cabbages & Condoms, a well-known restaurant whose profits benefit various aids research and reproductive rights initiatives. It’s so named because its founders believe that birth control should be as available and accepted as produce.
We were a very sort of calm and well-behaved group of men when we sat down to eat, which was somewhat worrisome. Once the alcohol began to flow, however, things deteriorated nicely.
Bharat, trying to reassert his manhood after polishing off a blue girly drink, ordered a shot of tequila and dropped a big slice of a very hot chili into it. He downed the shot and chewed the chili and never blinked an eye. Damn.
After dinner… well… that’s where this story will end.
One Reply to “28 hours in bangkok”
That is, like, hella lame. End the story just when it gets juicy. We’re thirsting for some fodder back here in lukewarm San Francisco!
Glad to hear ya had a good time.
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