People tend to eat 3-4 times a day. It's sort of the unwritten, general rule. When tubing, I think I ate once in 4 days. Bottled water was replaced with whiskey in buckets with the gorgeous M150 substance that was sending me over the edge with each gulp. Another day, another bout of drinking down the river.
More glow paint, ridiculous dancing (to that bloody "Americano" tune every hour) and eating bugs out of rum bottles, seriously though, where do you draw the line? It's about 2 hours into the session before I have a glance at my finger as somethings up with it, sort of like when you've cut yourself but you don't realize until you sting it off salty crisps or that, and it's gone bloody green! Not quite Hulk green but a pale green, like a ripe banana green if you will. The main problem is, I suppose, the fact it has gone green. As someone who has worked in healthcare for over 5 years, I probably should have seen that coming. Wading in water that looks like something out of "Swamp Thing" without even as much as a plaster on an open wound was a bad move in hindsight. Bandaging it up when it was already green was like painting the walls of a house that's had its roof taken off from a hurricane.
Enough about my finger, for now. This day tubing went a bit off schedule. Me and B had lost the gang. Nicky and The Jock had gone off together to a bar that had really enjoyed. The Viking boys and Graham the Mickey Mouser were doing the swing jumps (where we seen some lad plummet to his eventual death, pretty horrible to be fair) Laura had gone cave exploring and given tubing a swerve. Me, B and Andrew kept on trucking. It was getting fairly messy.
Ah there's Dave....
The Rascal from Rossie was sitting off getting stuck into a bucket, this is the Irish fella who helped me stop some Italian lad getting a right round house kicking from a Thai gentleman the night previous. We got talking and had a few drinks talking about the Auld country.
Andrew has me and B on our sides from laughing so hard, can't remember a thing that he said, but it was all golden. He was the Karl Pilkington of the group, definitely.
The girls from the night before, Aoife and Linda appear next, jaysus you run into everyone here, it's the kinda shite you leave home to get away from. I used to hate popping to the local shop for a litre of milk and running into half your road. The older crowd would keep you talking for ages too. Maybe that's why I always used to run in for a quick pint, to avoid them.
Hung around with the girls for a bit and then kept going. No fear I'd run into them again... they really are nut cases.
Every bar we hit, we made new friends, well, drinking buddies. Everyone was just up for getting wrecked. It made we wonder why we were doing such damage to our bodies. Surely if your liver could talk it'd be seriously pissed off with you and as for your kidneys, they'd be wanting overtime for all the extra work they'd have to do.
It was getting dark, so tubing for this day was reaching an end, which meant one thing. You keep going until it's bright again. The vicious circle keeps on turning. Q-bar again in the basic rags talking pure mule to everyone. As for the dancing, the less said, the better. Actually I was alright, don't mind what B says, I'm gifted in the nether regions. I'm talking about my feet of course.... well big feet, big hands, ehh??
I've lost B, we'd been getting on great having a hilarious day, but we'd had a disagreement about something, like how many ducks you could fit in a washing machine or something intense like that and next thing she was gone. So I done what any self respecting friend would do in the same situation.
That's right, I ordered myself 2 buckets. I can look and drink, it's fine. I run into the girls again, and we go on a hunt for my bikini clad, limping chum with a head like Side show Bob. Can't be too many of them around.
Long story short, next thing I know, it's bright and we're still at the Sunset Bar. I have no idea how that happened as I don't even remember getting there.
I get back to the Hut and sure enough, Misses Magoo is sleeping there. I had the key so I dunno how that worked. Oh, right, she's got the lock broken off, I guess I'm paying for that. I leave her to sleep with a plan to fetch some breakfast.
Ahh there's Dave on a hammock. He's staying at our huts. Breakfast will have to wait as we're having a beer in the morning sun watching kids bathe in the river. Sounds very wrong as I type it but it was just something you don't see every day. There may have been girls in the water too. Older girls with woman bits an all so it's not that weird. I don't care actually, if you were there, you'd have looked too.
The finger has began to excrete puss. Alarm bells? Nah, it'll be grand. We've got another day left of tubing sure.
Next is our final day of tubing, serious M150 come downs, Picasso paintings, the journey to Vientiane and one freaked out Canadian Girl who I may have freaked out.
Look after yizzerselves.
More glow paint, ridiculous dancing (to that bloody "Americano" tune every hour) and eating bugs out of rum bottles, seriously though, where do you draw the line? It's about 2 hours into the session before I have a glance at my finger as somethings up with it, sort of like when you've cut yourself but you don't realize until you sting it off salty crisps or that, and it's gone bloody green! Not quite Hulk green but a pale green, like a ripe banana green if you will. The main problem is, I suppose, the fact it has gone green. As someone who has worked in healthcare for over 5 years, I probably should have seen that coming. Wading in water that looks like something out of "Swamp Thing" without even as much as a plaster on an open wound was a bad move in hindsight. Bandaging it up when it was already green was like painting the walls of a house that's had its roof taken off from a hurricane.
Enough about my finger, for now. This day tubing went a bit off schedule. Me and B had lost the gang. Nicky and The Jock had gone off together to a bar that had really enjoyed. The Viking boys and Graham the Mickey Mouser were doing the swing jumps (where we seen some lad plummet to his eventual death, pretty horrible to be fair) Laura had gone cave exploring and given tubing a swerve. Me, B and Andrew kept on trucking. It was getting fairly messy.
Ah there's Dave....
The Rascal from Rossie was sitting off getting stuck into a bucket, this is the Irish fella who helped me stop some Italian lad getting a right round house kicking from a Thai gentleman the night previous. We got talking and had a few drinks talking about the Auld country.
Andrew has me and B on our sides from laughing so hard, can't remember a thing that he said, but it was all golden. He was the Karl Pilkington of the group, definitely.
The girls from the night before, Aoife and Linda appear next, jaysus you run into everyone here, it's the kinda shite you leave home to get away from. I used to hate popping to the local shop for a litre of milk and running into half your road. The older crowd would keep you talking for ages too. Maybe that's why I always used to run in for a quick pint, to avoid them.
Hung around with the girls for a bit and then kept going. No fear I'd run into them again... they really are nut cases.
Every bar we hit, we made new friends, well, drinking buddies. Everyone was just up for getting wrecked. It made we wonder why we were doing such damage to our bodies. Surely if your liver could talk it'd be seriously pissed off with you and as for your kidneys, they'd be wanting overtime for all the extra work they'd have to do.
It was getting dark, so tubing for this day was reaching an end, which meant one thing. You keep going until it's bright again. The vicious circle keeps on turning. Q-bar again in the basic rags talking pure mule to everyone. As for the dancing, the less said, the better. Actually I was alright, don't mind what B says, I'm gifted in the nether regions. I'm talking about my feet of course.... well big feet, big hands, ehh??
I've lost B, we'd been getting on great having a hilarious day, but we'd had a disagreement about something, like how many ducks you could fit in a washing machine or something intense like that and next thing she was gone. So I done what any self respecting friend would do in the same situation.
That's right, I ordered myself 2 buckets. I can look and drink, it's fine. I run into the girls again, and we go on a hunt for my bikini clad, limping chum with a head like Side show Bob. Can't be too many of them around.
Long story short, next thing I know, it's bright and we're still at the Sunset Bar. I have no idea how that happened as I don't even remember getting there.
I get back to the Hut and sure enough, Misses Magoo is sleeping there. I had the key so I dunno how that worked. Oh, right, she's got the lock broken off, I guess I'm paying for that. I leave her to sleep with a plan to fetch some breakfast.
Ahh there's Dave on a hammock. He's staying at our huts. Breakfast will have to wait as we're having a beer in the morning sun watching kids bathe in the river. Sounds very wrong as I type it but it was just something you don't see every day. There may have been girls in the water too. Older girls with woman bits an all so it's not that weird. I don't care actually, if you were there, you'd have looked too.
The finger has began to excrete puss. Alarm bells? Nah, it'll be grand. We've got another day left of tubing sure.
Next is our final day of tubing, serious M150 come downs, Picasso paintings, the journey to Vientiane and one freaked out Canadian Girl who I may have freaked out.
Look after yizzerselves.
Is that title from peepshow?
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