Was studying abroad in Thailand and went with a friend to an island (Koh Samui) for the weekend. Soon after checking into our dinky hotel, we rented motorbikes and cruised around the island, quickly getting lost on back roads. No big deal. We found a little tiki bar and drank the night away, thinking “we’ll figure out how to get home–eventually!!”
Fast-forward to about midnight. We’ve drank enough that motorbiking back to wherever-the-h**l we came from suddenly seems like a good idea. It’s an island, right? Who gets lost on an island!? So we set back in the general direction of the hotel. After about an hour of zig-zagging around dirt roads, we passed something that smelled terrible and I turned back to make a sour face at my friend. In a flash, I went off the side of the road and smashed the motorbike off an embankment and into what I assume was a swamp.. of the town’s sewage. By the time I realized what happened, I was almost fully submerged and trying to account for my bodyparts, let alone wipe my face and mouth clear of the revolting slush.
I scrambled out, scratched, bruised, and shamed, but all in one piece. The motorbike was stuck half submerged, so we yanked it out and (somehow) got it running again, then limped back toward our hotel.
We eventually made it back to the hotel, must have been at least 3am. I stunk of s**t and had a plethora of scratches and bruises that had been marinading in it for over an hour. So I sprinted to the hotel room shower like my life depended on it. After a few minutes of obsessive scrubbing, I emerged to an empty room. No friend in sight. So I went over to my suitcase to get dressed and look for him. It was practically empty, save a few t-shirts and underwear. Strange. Went for my backpack… nowhere in sight. My friend’s backpack… not there. We were robbed.
Frantically, I threw on a shirt and underwear and ran outside to find my friend banging on the door to the lobby, already aware that our stuff was missing. Feeling d***k/hungover, and violated in multiple ways, I sprinted over and joined him, banging and throwing rocks at the window until somebody responded and helped us report the crime.
Before long, a little old Thai man (think Mr. Miyagi) poked his head around from the corner of the building. We yelled for his attention and he darted away. We chased. He re-appeared, this time wielding a machete. We let out a massive “HOLY S**T!” and he shouted something in Thai, then we bolted as far as we could from the property, running until we were absolutely certain he couldn’t find us (not sure if he even chased).
We ended up far away at another beach resort, me winnie-the-poohing in my t-shirt and underwear, and my friend gross from a long day of motorbiking an swamp-wading, and had no idea what to do. We had no hotel, no passports, no clothes, and our wallets/phones were back at the recently robbed hotel room, where a little old man was waiting for us with his machete. Defeated, we passed out on a resort’s beach chairs and allowed the mosquitos to feast on our helpless bodies until the sun rose.
That morning, we limped back to the hotel, snuck into the room, and grabbed all that was left of our possessions (thankfully it wasn’t robbed twice, our wallets were safe.) I bought a bathing suit to wear over my underwear, and we swiftly got the f**k off that miserable little h**l-realm of an island. And to this day, it remains, my most horrible travel/vacation experience. As well as one of my favorite stories.
Fast Forward —-Was studying abroad in Thailand and went with a friend to an island (Koh Samui) for the weekend. Soon after checking into our dinky hotel, we rented motorbikes and cruised around the island, quickly getting lost on back roads. No big deal. We found a little tiki bar and drank the night away, thinking “we’ll figure out how to get home–eventually!!”
Fast-forward to about midnight. We’ve drank enough that motorbiking back to wherever-the-h**l we came from suddenly seems like a good idea. It’s an island, right? Who gets lost on an island!? So we set back in the general direction of the hotel. After about an hour of zig-zagging around dirt roads, we passed something that smelled terrible and I turned back to make a sour face at my friend. In a flash, I went off the side of the road and smashed the motorbike off an embankment and into what I assume was a swamp.. of the town’s sewage. By the time I realized what happened, I was almost fully submerged and trying to account for my bodyparts, let alone wipe my face and mouth clear of the revolting slush.
I scrambled out, scratched, bruised, and shamed, but all in one piece. The motorbike was stuck half submerged, so we yanked it out and (somehow) got it running again, then limped back toward our hotel.
We eventually made it back to the hotel, must have been at least 3am. I stunk of s**t and had a plethora of scratches and bruises that had been marinading in it for over an hour. So I sprinted to the hotel room shower like my life depended on it. After a few minutes of obsessive scrubbing, I emerged to an empty room. No friend in sight. So I went over to my suitcase to get dressed and look for him. It was practically empty, save a few t-shirts and underwear. Strange. Went for my backpack… nowhere in sight. My friend’s backpack… not there. We were robbed.
Frantically, I threw on a shirt and underwear and ran outside to find my friend banging on the door to the lobby, already aware that our stuff was missing. Feeling d***k/hungover, and violated in multiple ways, I sprinted over and joined him, banging and throwing rocks at the window until somebody responded and helped us report the crime.
Before long, a little old Thai man (think Mr. Miyagi) poked his head around from the corner of the building. We yelled for his attention and he darted away. We chased. He re-appeared, this time wielding a machete. We let out a massive “HOLY S**T!” and he shouted something in Thai, then we bolted as far as we could from the property, running until we were absolutely certain he couldn’t find us (not sure if he even chased).
We ended up far away at another beach resort, me winnie-the-poohing in my t-shirt and underwear, and my friend gross from a long day of motorbiking an swamp-wading, and had no idea what to do. We had no hotel, no passports, no clothes, and our wallets/phones were back at the recently robbed hotel room, where a little old man was waiting for us with his machete. Defeated, we passed out on a resort’s beach chairs and allowed the mosquitos to feast on our helpless bodies until the sun rose.
That morning, we limped back to the hotel, snuck into the room, and grabbed all that was left of our possessions (thankfully it wasn’t robbed twice, our wallets were safe.) I bought a bathing suit to wear over my underwear, and we swiftly got the f**k off that miserable little h**l-realm of an island. And to this day, it remains, my most horrible travel/vacation experience. As well as one of my favorite stories.
story by: Cmdr-Keen
