Why Scrotations you ask? No real reason except for that while I was rotating the globe I got to pondering my scrotum. I feel like I could sit around for 3 days at hơme without my balls starting to smell. I'm curious why it is that I would pass out from the stench if i did a split after a four hour stretch in an airplane. Life is a mystery I guess.
Anyway... 32 hours of travel, not fun. Even less fun with a cold. An probably even less fun for the people I spent the day hacking all over. First flight was uneventful... A wine/ambien combination put me down for the count. Then came the eight hour layover in Moscow. I timed it and I think I walked 12 miles pacing the airport. It's a meritocracy over there. The more expensive stores were manned by the hotter women, and there were some smoke shows. So many, that at one point I excused myself to a handicapped bathroom to rub one out. I felt guilty for a bit, but they shouldn't force a horny man into a layover like that. My only real regret is not finding a partner for the session. I made the best of it though, talked to my dong like Johnny Drama.
Second flight it seemed as if I was going to have a row of seats to myself and then a hot French girl asked to share. She was a casino dealer in Switzerland. We talked, watched Social Network together, and then I touched her while she slept. Juuuuuuuust kidding. About the talking part. She didn't really speak English. By the way, James compared me to the Napster character in Social Network. I'm proud of that, but not sure why, cause on the surface it's pretty insulting.
Anyway... After landing in Hanoi, I hopped a flight to Saigon. It was pretty empty but I was in a row next to a hot Vietnamese chick. I motioned that I was going to the other row so that I could stretch out. For some reason she followed me and we spent the next two hours trying to communicate. She kept touching me and I would be lying if I said that I didn't check my carry on to see if I had domes for the mile high.
Then I started thinking, is this a prostitute? In the likely a prostitute column I would list: Vietnamese, followed me to the other row of seats, touched me a lot. In not a prostitute column would go: asked for my number instead of going for the mile high while we were on the plane. She's not a fucking layaway plan. Wouldn't she want to get paid as quickly as possible? Also, she had really intricately painted toe nails, but I'm not sure that that means anything. I'll have to get Fogarty to weigh in. (Comments section mainly)
Anyway, got to Saigon. Insane city. People tear around on mopeds in any given direction. They look like schools of fish. I didn't see a traffic light until 15 minutes in a cab. I checked into the hostel and had to kill some time before the lads got in from Cambodia so I went to get a bowl of Pho. I'll upload some pics later, but let me say in advance that there is a straw in the picture, which I would usually consider kind of fruity. But, everything is dirty as shit here and if I"m gonna get dysentery it's gonna be from some crazy street food/urchin, not the lid of a diet coke. The Pho was decent, not great. I'm looking for a better spot today.
Anyway, on the way back I found my buddies and we started to drink. It was 4pm Saigon time, 5am NYC time at this point, so I was a touch delirious. We planned the rest of our time before Malaysia and Bali (Mui Ne, Nha Trang, Hanoi) and walked around looking for a spot for the evening. Eventually we got hungry and went to a restaurant that was suggested by our man in SE Asia, the one and only Nhi Tran. I was insane/brownout at this point so no pictures, but it was a lot of stewed meats, noodles and roll your own spring rolls. The place was filled with wealthy Vietnamese so it was legit.
After dinner we walked back and started boozing. The backpacker scene is weak here.
Really no hot girls except for hookers. We get snuck a bottle of three dollar bottle into the club and sauced until we were almost ejected and beaten with these semi flaccid night sticks that the security guards carry. The place stayed dead and we hopped a cab to Apocalypse Now which is just an amazing club name. I wonder if it would be as good if it wasn't in Saigon.
Also, after cabbing it to places and then walking home twice I can safely say that if you take a taxi in this city, you will get run up. Granted, the fare is never more than six bucks, but it's still annoying.
Apo, as the locals call it was a hooker factory, but we managed to find two hot Australian/Asians by pretending that we were Australian. They were with some American douche who was spouting stupid philosophies about not really being alive in America. I was too tired to even fuck with him, but I did manage to take one of the girls on the dance floor. I again was almost ejected and beaten when I picked her up by the ass and the staff mistook her as a working girl who I was abusing.
We parted ways and went back to the first bar which was dead except for these two gross broads that my buddies had previously met on a bus. They were trying to smash, but I made up crazy lies and told them I was this black guy that I go to school with, then told them to facebook me and ran away.
Finally, at 3pm NYC time... bed. Up this morning at 5:30 because of the time difference. I snuck into a gym at one of the nicest hotels in the city to kill times while the boys were still passed out. You can take the guido out of Long Island, etc...
Now after my backpacker breakfast of fruit and yogurt (no granola here... again inferior to Bangkok) I'm writing it all down.
Big market and war museum today... then off to the beach...
No comments:
Post a Comment