The Hangover.

Yesterday I awoke to a hangover that can only be described as a head splitting catastrophe. I was paralysed with fear. Fear of sitting up, in case my head actually fell off my shoulders and rolled onto the floor. Eventually my eyes managed to crack open and I could take in the scene that surrounded me. Where the hell was I? And why was there Thai money scattered all over the bed?  And why was there a bin next to me filled with a water gun, a full beer and a little bit of vomit? Was it my vomit? And why was there incredibly offensive "pop" music blasting into my ears at 10am? And why was I covered in what looked like a dry cement mix? And why, I asked myself upon closer inspection of my habitat, was I sleeping in what looked like a crack den where hobo's and injured animals go to die?

My head was going to explode and I had no idea where I was or why I was dying. So I did what any normal person with a hangover does: scream bloody murder and then go back to sleep. When I awoke for the second time, I reached for my camera (which had nestled itself in my neck) and began, with horror, to piece together the events of the previous night. 

It was all coming back to me. Kyle and I had decided to go and stay in Khao San rd, Bangkok's infamous backpacker paradise, for Songkran. Songkran is the Thai New Year festival. It is basically a massive water fight and street party that lasts for 3 days, otherwise known as the single most amazing experience of my life. We checked into Khao San Rainbow "hotel", if you can call it that, at about 5pm. Our "room" consisted of a soiled bed that was too big for the minute room where in which it was placed (or, simply, the room was too small), some kind of scent that we could not quite put our finger on, an unusual stain next to the bed, and a toilet that served as a toilet, basin and shower all at once. Don't ask. I can't explain. Our room was also conveniently placed right outside the most God awful karaoke bar that somehow was given the licence by some idiot to operate for 24 hours a day. So lovely. All of these factors appear to be the reason why we got so hideously drunk, obviously so that we could sleep in our room in peace with no worries of being stolen in the middle of the night and being sold to a company where there are many beds with unusual stains beside them...

Khao San road: the beginning of the end.

To avoid any contamination, we hastily unpacked and left. Armed with water guns, a pre made whisky mix and a very fashionable waterproof satchel, we made our way to join the festivities in Khao San rd. It was incredible. Such an amazing event: kids, adults, tweens and drunk tourists alike, all joining in the water fight and the carefree vibe. I saw things that I can't even begin to describe. Such as a troupe of lady boys performing a choreographed dance in the street whilst pouring water all over themselves. It honestly wasn't very different from Geri Halliwell's "It's raining men" music video. Except that Geri Halliwell is far less attractive when in the rain. 

You get the picture

The rest of the weekend is a blur of cocktail buckets, water fights and Indian food. Not to mention cockroaches and unidentifiable smells and stains. Dried vomit, it was, we discovered. The unusual stain I spoke of. We discovered this at the end of the weekend when Kyle fell asleep on the floor with his face way too close to the stain. Nice place. I strongly recommend you never go there. The hangover though. Phwoar. That was spectacular. Never in my life have I been so severely crippled and outplayed by such a demonic blend of whisky. Well played Bangkok, well played.