Recently in life of such Category

Controlled. Sterile. Outdated. Clean. Quiet.

Think of a 1960's over sized communist processing facility, only silent and empty, with army guards posted on every checkout gate with a computer straight out of 1987. Getting off the half empty plane, and walking across the tarmac and into Vietnam's biggest airport was a somewhat confronting experience.

From the machine gun turrets on the airstrip, to the army guards patrolling inside the airport, you really got the impression that this country controls its citizens with an iron fist. The silent, clean and monitored communist airport was such a contrast to the overbearingly capitalist approach to the airport in Bangkok, which was full of advertising, stores and people selling tours, souvenirs and anything else you could wish for.

And I have to admit, I liked it. There were no people to queue behind, dodge or avoid. Simply walk off the plane, out into the empty airport, get your passport stamped by Mr Red Army at the gate, and you were on your way.

Controlled, sterile, outdated, clean and quiet - that is until you get to the outside of the airport. At which point, you have a fence which prevents those that are not flying from entering the terminal at all. And behind that fence are people. 60 million of them. All smiling, all watching eagerly to catch a glimpse of some famous person that they have never met. At least, that's the way it felt.

Sardines in a can have space to stretch out and lounge around compared to this.

Spenny, Hinton and I walked out the gates, past the fence of people all smiling and watching, and off to find a taxi. From the moment we drove out the boom gates of the airport, that controlled, sterile, clean and quiet environment was all but a distant memory. The original plan of the boys tour, was to get a few bikes for cheap, and ride them up the coast from Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi.

Now before you all jump up and down and tell me that the whole Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi thing has been done before, let me say 2 things. Firstly, shut-up stooge. Secondly, it was while watching that very Top Gear episode that a conversation took place back and forth over the course of an hour between Hinton and I. Hinton was using his sales technique to get me over to South East Asia, a place I had never wanted to visit. Eventually I somehow agreed to the trip, and we decided to introduce Spenny to the idea very covertly.

We set up a typical boys night - Beer at Hintons, with Spenny's home-cooked hamburgers. The more beers the better. We told Spenny we had something to show him, and flicked on the Top Gear Vietnam episode... Of course, being drunk, we were laughing more than was necessary, right up until the point when we turned to Spenny and said:

"Boys holiday?" T
"Hell yeah! Where to?"
*Hinton and Will nod at screen*
"Vietnam?! - I don't know if I have enough hand sanitizer!"

So, we knew that riding was going to be tricky, we knew the traffic was going to be crazy. As drivers we have had to put up with our fair share of traffic, and we are used to traveling roads that are jam packed and out of control. But we were totally unprepared for what we saw. We never really expected to be driving down roads with it to be THIS out of control, never this jam packed. Sardines in a can have space to stretch out and lounge around compared to this...

Bikes. Thousands of bikes. Everywhere. Riding on the road. Riding on the footpath.

Traffic Vid 1. (link)

A typical traffic merge. Two flows of traffic somehow dodging each other... look closely at around the 25 second mark, to see where the bus nearly takes out the little man on the scooter.

Traffic Vid 2. (link)

Typical peak hour in Ho Chi Minh. Check out the man using his scooter as a goods truck at around 25 seconds in. Awesome.

No amount of internet videos or TV shows can truly prepare you for what has to be the most chaotic and dangerous road transport systems in the world. Forget road rules or common courtesy (which is on the way out in Australia if you ask me), it is simply a case of every man for himself.

Trucks, cars, taxis, buses, mopeds and bicycles all share the road. But instead of "share" the correct term should be "fight for survival". The first breakfast in Ho Chi Minh saw Spenny and I sitting in the penthouse guest dining room of our hotel, watching the traffic circle the roundabout in hypnotic fashion, the traffic ebbing and flowing from different directions like the tides. A gaggle of traffic begins to force its way through the roundabout, forcing traffic flowing from another direction to cede and give way. Suddenly, a mass of traffic including a bus, a truck, several taxis and 50 mopeds comes to a halt, and swerve and change direction to avoid a hidden obstacle. As the traffic clears, I can see what stopped the traffic flow.

A woman, in woman in traditional Vietnamese clothing, on foot pushing a bicycle laden with bags of rice has apparently out ranked every other vehicle on the road, and forced them off the round about.

It was pretty early on in our trip that we realised that scooter-ing up the coast was pretty much a stupid idea. I mean really, what chance do three white guys on Scooters have against this?

Oh... and did we mention at this stage, Spenny can't actually ride a scooter? Awesome. This should be good.

So it's been months since the holiday of the year, but my posts have finally made it from Sydney, through the seedy underworld of Bangkok, and into Vietnam. Well, almost. Technically we are picking up the story in Bangkok.

You see, the morning of day 3 found the three of us a little worse for wear, somewhat dusty and under the weather. This was mostly self inflicted, and to be honest kind of set the tone of the holiday to come. Awesome.

Oh, and to make matters worse, someone had decided to book us flights that were just way too early. So early that sunrise decided to hit the snooze button, twice. And by way too early, I totally mean we had to be up at 5am. Only it wasn't 5am, that was just the seedy hangover talking. But when you feel seedy, and have a 40 minute Thai taxi ride across the city to the airport, you are totally allowed to bitch about it.

Either way, I spent the flight to Ho Chi Minh city, on the other side of the plane with my head in my hands. In what was pretty much the best mood ever. And by best mood ever, I meant "I'm hungover and the two guys next to me think it is funny to keep poking me in the ribs and drawing pictures of me and laughing at me all the way to another country".

In a rather strange co-incidence, as we flew into Ho Chi Minh, my ipod (which was keeping me sane at this point) switched songs and started playing Cold Chisels' "Khe Sanh" - one of my top 5 Aussie songs of all time. Now, one could launch into a rant about how the song is historically inaccurate *Steve*, but in all seriousness, it felt strangely fitting as we flew a graceful arch over the city and into the airport.

Despite the rapid development in Vietnam, and in Ho Chi Minh in particular, there are still so many vivid reminders still standing of the Vietnam war that devastated the country. I haven't been to many airports around the world to be honest, but I'm pretty sure you don't often fly into an airport still surrounded by concrete bunkers and flanked by machine gun and anti-aircraft turrets. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was saying "Seriously Will, what are you doing?!"

But that was the same voice that I apparently ignored when I was sexually assaulted by the Lady-boy in Bangkok, so in typical male fashion, I did some pretty complex high level maths calculations and trigonometry, and worked out the following equation around my relative safety levels in each country.

{n00b (-)5EX / THAI} < {pwnage (+) 1337 / VIET}

Yeah. Works out well huh? Now, I could get technical and explain the actual science behind that calculation, but I know for a fact that there are a few nerds out there who could actually translate, or even improve on that calculation for me, and I'll leave it to them...

For the rest of you non leet speakers, the basic idea of the calculation is:

Thailand: A land where packs of wild ladyboys assault naive and stupid travellers such as my self, vs Vietnam : a land of cheap beer, no road rules, and the ability for foriengers to play with war era machinery.

Just quietly, I figured I'd rather take my chances with a bunch of machine gun turrets, non existant public safety awareness, non regulated roads and an inherant lack of quality control on public infrastucture, food standards and pretty much everything else, than with another Wiggly finger ladyboy massage.

For those that read the previous post, this might make sense to you. For those that haven't, go back and read (touch UP in Bangkok).

After laying in bed trying to deal with my almost rape at the hands of a lady-boy, Hinton and Spenny decided the best way they could help was in the only form of psychological help that men understand.

Beer.

So we headed out into Bangkok's crazy and somewhat seedy nightlife, and on the advice of our tour guide, headed to the most cutting edge, trendy bar & club in Thailand. It was shaped like a new-modern cube, with glass at both ends. Now, in the tour guides defence, they did say "I've never been here on a Monday night before - but it's usually the best place in Bangkok".

So, after being molested by a lady boy during the day, and wanting to go out to a normal pub to check that I hadn't been turned by the event, we turn up at the club to see these seven HOT Thai women in tiny skirts and shorts, and barely there tops, dancing suggestively on a stage and singing.

Not so bad you might say?

Except they were singing "I will survive" by Gloria Gaynor. Which seemed a little odd. But I let it slide and walked upstairs in the club. And then I noticed I was getting watched very closely by a lot of guys, and a lot of rather "strong" looking women.

And then this guy got up and started dancing. In a towel. Then someone in the crowd pulled his towel off. And he kept dancing.

And then I realised... Monday night was Gay night.

OK - So unfortunately someone came around to my house last night and attacked my car in order to help me "remember and share any other events" that may have occurred on that hazy and sleazy afternoon in Bangkok. Fortunately for me, they didn't realise I have a company car. But in the interest of light hearted entertainment,

here we go... disclaimer time...

*Disclaimer - I am NOT for one minute attempting to make light of anyone's experience with sexual assault, rape or lady-boys, I am merely making fun of MY experience with sexual assault, rape, and lady-boys.

So I finished my last recount with Hinton getting his feet washed by a lady-boy and then being led upstairs for his massage... and I honestly wish that we all had traditional massages, and all lived happily ever after. But what really happened was one of the most awkward and uncomfortable things that I have ever experienced.

Hinton was led upstairs by his lady-boy, and Spenny and I were led upstairs by our male massage attendants. I can't remember too much about Spenny's masseuse, mostly on account of my masseuse insisted in standing in my way, and turning around every 3 steps and smiling at me say "It's OK - come on." To which I replied, "Settle down, I'm coming..." Not the best choice of words. Oh, and did I mention that my masseuse insisted on walking 3 steps ahead of me up the stairs, wiggling his backside as he walked, and making sure his pink satin underpants were showing above his tight jeans? I didn't. Oh - well now you know.

**Error number FOUR** When you are being led upstairs for a traditional massage by a lady-boy and two twig-looking men who keep smiling at you and wiggling their satin-encased hips at you on the stairs - there is a pretty good chance you are gonna get screwed. No matter if you like it or not.

So my masseuse - lets call him "Mr Khayup Niu" which roughly translates as "Mr Wiggly Fingers" - ushers me into this room, pats the massage table - which if we are honest is just a mattress behind a curtain, and then holds up a pair of tiny flimsy pyjamas and gestures to me to put them on before he races out of the room. Almost before I am dressed again, he bursts back in, and after some lost in translation conversation, pushes me onto my back and starts massaging my feet.

So, at this stage, I'm wearing next to nothing, spread-eagled on my back in some seedy part of Bangkok with an overly eager man wearing bright pink satin underpants who is smiling far too much for my liking, perched between my legs and massaging my feet. Things can't get can't get any more awkward can they?

Wrong. Things were about to take a turn towards "way more awkward" side.

Mr Khayup Niu (AKA wiggly fingers) changed position somewhat, so that he was now perched kneeling between my legs while I was on my back with my legs splayed out like a frog in a pretzel imitation competition, and began massaging from both ankles, and into my calves - which wasn't too bad - up past my knees and into my thighs - which was starting to get a little uncomfortable - right up to my groin - at which point I started to twitch and try and move away - and, well there is no nice way to say this - straight up my gentleman bits.

**Error number FIVE** If a masseuse touches your gentleman bits. It wasn't an accident. It was never an accident, and will never "accidentally" happen just once... GET OUT NOW"

I nearly hit the freaking roof, and jerked away, but Wiggly Fingers just laughed and said "Oh, sorry sorry" and pushed me down on the bed again. At the same time I heard Spenny and Hinton giggling from the other massage rooms, so in my naivety just thought "Oh, obviously we are all getting the same treatment and it is just some kind of twisted Thai joke". So I tried to relax and laid back down.

Again wiggly fingers started massaging, slowly working his way up my calves, thighs, and into my groin (not actually my bits - just the literal groin), but as he repeated this motion, I realised he was slowly working his way towards my cock again. Persistent little bugger. He kept "accidentally" brushing and touching it, and each time I tried to squirm away, he'd say "shhh... it's OK, relax... quiet". In the back of my mind, fear started to take over, and I remembered a scene from a movie called "Once were warriors" when Uncle Bully forces his way into a girls room and pins her down saying "Shhh... it's OK..."

To say I was uncomfortable is a huge understatement. Wiggly Fingers again worked his way up to full groping mode only this time he forgot to even TRY and pretend like he was massaging me legitimately, and just took liberties that would make a porn star blush. Two little Thai hands started ferreting around my pants grabbing my meat and potatoes and squeezing and massaging. Now, guys might understand this, but when someone LITTERALLY has you by the balls, you just kinda freeze. Wiggly fingers took this as his chance to try and get a rise out of me (pun intended) and for about 5 seconds started going all out with his rubbing and massaging. All I could think of was "Please lil Mini Will - now is NOT the time to get happy. We do NOT have a go for launch!" When he let go of my potato sack I tried to sit up, but he was obviously ahead of me and pinned me back down to the bed and put his hand over my mouth and just looked at me and said "shhhhh!".

I freaked out and went into play dead survival mode. All I could think about was uncle Bully breathing down my neck.

**Error number SIX** Don't just shut down and go into survival mode. That is just an invitation for MORE trauma!

He rolled me over onto my stomach, which was a relief for all of 3 seconds, because as SOON as my back was turned, his hands started groping massaging my ass. I think I must have kinda shut down mentally, because for the next however long, all I can remember was Wiggly Fingers trying to pull down my pants, or fold me over his lap and dry hump me in some strange massage position, or find some excuse to grab, touch, grope and rub me. At one stage he pretty much stretched out over me while I was laying on my stomach, put his lips against my ears and said words that still chill me...

"...um, do you want oil and a fuck?"

After spending the last 40 minutes twitching and jumping around and trying to avoid your slimy little wiggly fingers, do you think I am going to be won over that easily? You'd at least have to buy me dinner first.

When it all finished, he left me on the bed, crying in the fetal position to get dressed again, but decided he didn't want to do that, and burst back in. He tried to get me to put my bag down and kept whispering something to me which I had no understanding of. He kept closing the curtain and pointing to the bed and to me. I was like what? You want me to get on the bed? Next thing I know he has pounced onto the bed, with my bag and beckoning me to join him.

Thankfully, and really I mean thankfully - I hear a voice from behind the curtain...

Spenny : "Will - are you alright?"

Will : *Grabs bag from Mr Sex offender Wiggly Fingers* : "Yes!"

I ripped open the curtain and raced down the stairs past a stunned Hinton and Spenny...

Hinton : "How was your massage?"

Will : "Just keep walking"

Spenny "What? What happened?"

Will : "Just wait until we are in the taxi..."

We wandered out of the massage parlour into a dirty typical Bangkok side street, walked a short distance until we could find a taxi, and after a few minutes of silence, we started comparing stories on the way back to the hotel...

Hinton : "I thought mine accidentally touched me up once, but when he did it a second time I glared at him and said no - after that he was fine"

Spenny : "Haha, yeah, mine touched me once or twice and laughed, but that was about it..."

Will : "Mine kept touching me too... the whole time"

Hinton turned around in horror, Spenny laughed... "What?"

Will : "...yeah, the whole time... I thought it was like their joke or something... I didn't actually know what a traditional Thai massage was."

Spenny : "Yeah, it was pretty funny, but only at the beginning"

Hinton : "Mine placed my foot into his groin at one stage... I'm pretty sure he was hard"

Will : "Mine tried to sleep with me... "

Spenny *laughing* : "No way, What?"

Will : "Did you guys get like, kinda bent over his lap so both your gentleman bits were touching, and then have him try to pull down your pants and keep massaging your ass?"

*Silence*

Will : "Oh, FUCK!"

Call me sheltered, but I'd never ventured outside Australia's eastern states before August 2009. I'd driven up and down the coast of Australia, from Cape Tribulation in the North (well, about 3kms short of Cape Tribulation in the north - and then my sister got bitten ON THE EYEBALL by some kind of freaky insect so we had to cut short our journey and race her to a hospital while her eye swelled up to the size of a kiwi fruit - she is totally a fun killer), to Phillip Island in the south of Victoria (for motoGP), and as far west as Dubbo in Central Western NSW (we had a family farm out there at one stage). So I'm not exactly what you would call "travelled". So the idea of heading over to South East Asia with no ability to speak the language, no bookings, no set itinerary and pretty much no idea was a somewhat terrifying experience for me. But, like all men, when peer pressure is involved that whole "false bravado" thing takes over, and so what seemed like a pretty stupid and risky idea at the time (I had Vietnamese customers actually telling me that they wouldn't go on their own to Vietnam) turned into one of the best holidays of all time. Of ALL TIME.

First of all, let me say 9 hours on a flight isn't as long as I'd thought it would be, especially when you have spare seats to play with, movies to watch, and someone as entertaining as Spenny to keep you amused. There were probably 4 times on that flight when Spenny decided that he needed something from his bag in the overhead lockers, and probably 4 times he couldn't actually get the lockers open. Have you ever seen an angry chimp trying to open a jar of pickles? Watching him trying to discretely shove, pull and bash the overhead lockers open without looking like a foolish crazed terrorist is actually kinda funny. What makes it funnier is the facial expressions of those passengers who watch him jiggle and shake for a good two minutes, only to sit down in abject misery and failure, but try the exact same thing over and over again. Hilarious. Oh, seeing Spenny try and scam an extra dinner out of the hostesses by claiming there really is a person sitting in the vacant seat between us, also hilarious.

So, touchdown in Bangkok at 10:00pm local time.

Three minutes later at 10:03pm and we have our first drama of the holiday. Hinton and I have lost Spenny in Bangkok international terminal. It was our own little missing persons case. One minute he was next to me, the next he was gone.We waited for him for 5 minutes just outside the plane in the corridor, and when he failed to turn up, we assumed he must be ahead of us so we started walking to immigration. Now, BKK airport is freaking huge, and it took us a good 15 minutes just to get to immigration. Still no sign of Spenny (and lets be honest, a big white guy kinda stands out in an airport full of Thai's). We couldn't see him, couldn't find him, and couldn't call him because he decided against bringing his phone.

Great. We are 20 minutes into our 2 week journey, and we are already a man down. So, after an in depth conversation with Hinton around the topic "how pissed would Spenny be if we just left without him", we decided that he wouldn't want us sitting around moping over his disappearance, and would want us to go on without him for the sake of the holiday, so we wandered off through the immigration check and onto the baggage claim. For the record we got in contact with Spenny after around 30 minutes of *frantic* searching in the bar and all safely made it out of the terminal. And apparently he did have his phone with him after all. Oh well.

So, my first impressions of Bangkok? Very hot, even at 10pm at night, the air was humid and heavy, everywhere was noisy, but worst of all everything smelled like it had been wrapped in road kill at some stage in its life. Seriously, wherever I went in Bangkok it smelled like a mix of rotting custard apple, poo and vomit. And to make it all worse in all this oppressive heat and stench, you get disoriented WAY too easily. I really had no idea where I was going because as far as I can tell the entire city was modeled on a giant ball of wool. There seems to be no major central business districts or hubs that are surrounded by suburban housing... instead everything is jumbled together in random little knots. You will walk out of a major 40 level hotel, which is next door to a 2 storey house, next to a bar, next to some vacant blocks, on the corner of a random small housing estate which is sandwiched between a massive shopping complex. The taxi driver took us from the airport, down some big freeway, turned down some dodgy looking alleyway filled with old houses and homeless children, and then hooked a left turn through a massive hospital in the middle of no-where, out onto some other alleyways and into our hotel.

Not for one moment did I know where I was in Bangkok. Not once. I was disoriented, hazy, overheated and uncomfortable. For me, being in Bangkok was like surviving in an over sized clothes dryer. Filled with babies nappies. Dirty babies nappies. Fortunately, things were just about to take a turn for the interesting...

To be continued...

And here.... we.... go.

So, it has been a few weeks now, and unless you have been living under a rock (and to be honest you probably have been, I know what you people are like) you'd know that I recently put on my anti deep vein thrombosis socks, boarded a plane with two different Joshua's and took my first ever trip overseas on what was meant to be an action packed boys motorcycle adventure in Vietnam.

And let me assure you right now. It was certainly an action packed adventure, it was everything and unfortunately more than I had expected.

Now, details on this trip have been rather hazy since our return, and a lot of questions have gone unanswered - and before you all assume the worst of us - and lets face it, you are all quietly judging us already - let me give you the three most influential reasons for our hazy recollections of our holiday.

1. A beer in Vietnam costs around 60 cents.
2. A standard "Beer" in Vietnam is actually a 750ml long-neck.
3. Previously mentioned beer is available in every restaurant / cafe / corner store in Vietnam from Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi.

So, after finally managing to sit down and work out where we had been, and living through our own version of "The Hangover", I can finally describe, narrate and collate the official version of what has come to be known "The 14 days of drunk" tour.

Over the next few weeks an accurate day-by-day account will be given, beginning with our arrival in Bangkok, and culminating with our arrival back on Australian soil. Some stories will make you laugh, some stories will make you cry, and some stories will probably lead you to call the authorities. I understand (more than most) the perils that come from sharing hilarious and embarrassing stories from a holiday, trust me on this. But truth needs a voice, and sometimes, when that voice is unforeseeably unavailable, I step in with my version of events.

This is the story of the holiday of the year. This is the story of Hinton, Spenny and Will. This is the 14 days of drunk tour.

I update you from the confines of a lovely oversized hotel in Hoi An, which is pretty much the cutest little Ancient Asian Town in Vietnam. I HIGHLY recommend getting your ass over here some time to check it out. Plus it has awesome tailors currently making the three of us 6 suits, 1 custom jacket, 10 pairs of pants and 29 business shirts, plus 1 awesome custom shirt Spenny designed, along wtih 2 pairs of custom shoes. P.S., the tailor organises our own taxi to take us all over town, free of charge just because we are awesome and spent craploads of money with him. Its like our own private little servant!

Anyways, I write this as I am about to head out to a nice little cafe for breakfast (only a few hours late) and food is on my mind... It has been a pretty interesting time food-wise over here in Vietnam... from burgers and pasta to Pho, curries, bbq grills and random hotpot combinations, it has been good. Oh, and did I mention the beers and Vietnamese coffees?

Well, Spenny has a pretty interesting habit of looking over the menu and automatically ordering the most vile sounding weird animals on the menu for us before we have a chance to stop him.

So what have we ordered?

Wild Boar.

Deer.

Goat.

Snails.

Frogs legs (twice)

Roasted Field mouse.

Snake.

We turned down the offer to drink Snake and Scorpion wine. (As I write this, Spenny is sitting next to me shaking his wrist and hand inappropriately - he says it is his watch - I'm not so sure to be honest. BUT, Spenny literally just asked when we turned down Snake and Scorpion wine and sounds a little upset because he wants to try it - case in point.) Thankfully, we only saw the last two on the menu in Nha Trang (not a bad little place - not as good as Hoi An though). After ordering Snake and Field Mouse, the waitress came back after a few minutes to tell us "Sorry Sir, all out of Snake", and "Sorry Sir, all out of Field Mouse". I did ask why she couldnt just catch and cook us a regular mouse, but she wouldn't do that.

Fortunately we are heading back to Nha Trang and can re-order snake and mouse. Unfortunately that is EXACTLY what Spenny will order. Apparently he isn't going to rest until he samples every beast on the planet.

Oh, and in other news, we met a dog in Nha Trang called Gappy at a restaurant. She was a lovely little playful puppy that ended up biting Spenny and drawing blood. I have never seen Spenny more concerned with catching an infectious disease in my life.... he was panting, red faced, eyes full of concern. HILLARIOUS. The only time I have seen him more concerned is, oh, I don't know... pretty much EVERY MEAL when he drags out his oversized bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket (I dont know how he fits that bottle in his pants - and I'm not asking). But without fail, every meal... sanitizer. Walking down the street... sanitizer... touching the locals... hand sanitizer.

But back to the dog called Gappy.... I asked the restaurant owner if she was called "Gappy" because she was filling a blank spot on the menu tomorrow. Apparently that joke just isn't funny over here...

Ahh, fun times.

Ok, just a random little post about security in Vietnam.

Pretty much every street has security on it, be it army, police or private guards. In fact there is so much security around, you litterally couldn't walk more than 5 meters without tripping on a broken sidewalk and landing in a uniformed guards lap. They always look mean, and unless they are bashing someone with a rifle (which I am forced to say never happens - Mr Dong, you can put the nightstick down now) they almost always look bored.

Security is pretty tight even in the nightclubs, but this time was pretty OTT (over the top in internet nerd speak) and imposing. It is a little scary when 3 white guys decide to pull an all nighter before a 6am flight, and turn up to a club which is litterally on a building construction site, and instantly get mobbed by security guards. They scowled at us, and then ushered us all into what can only be described as a tiny cube of sound. Sound so freaking loud that talking was impossible, and standing with your internal organs intact was difficult to say the least. I couldn't hear what was ordered, and to be honest, can't exactly remember HOW it was ordered, but what I do remember is being the ONLY white Honkies in a club surrounded by Vietnamese... quite conspicuous to say the least.

We got a LOT of stares from all the girls, and a lot of glares from all the Vietnamese guys who thought we were there to steal girls. Next thing we know, a group of security turned up and surrounded us at our little table. 3 white boys who don't speak the language, and 4 massive security guards. Overkill anyone?

We got a little worried, although the fact we were already a little drunk meant that we weren't too worried until it was a little too late. The security cordon surrounding us and separating us from the other club goers, and stood there smiling with arms crossed. Eventually we realised they were there entirely for us, just to protect and serve us... pretty soon we had security bringing and pouring us drinks, and holding back the multitudes keeping us in our own VIP area.

They stood with us for the rest of the night, pouring us drinks, escourting us to the bathrooms, making sure we were happy, calling us cabs, pouring more drinks, smiling, pouring, presenting more drinks. It was pretty much like being famous and I loved it!

So yeah, security in Vietnam can be pretty tight. Sometimes they are there to protect and serve. Sometimes they are there to protect and serve drinks.

I'm just glad I didn't pay the drinks bill that night.

Will

P.S.
I just checked, and apparently I DID pay the bill last night. In the order of one and a half million dong or something. Yay.