Arriving in Indonesia

There were a few reasons that I chose to go to Indonesia on the way back to Australia.  The flight from KL to Kuta, Bali was only $100 so I convinced myself that instead of buying one huge flight back to Sydney (several hundred dollars), I would split the trip up into a few smaller flights and make it "easier".

Even though that's a perfectly retarded reason to do anything like that because whatever I would spend on alcohol alone at these other destinations would by far exceed any one plane ticket.

Yes, I do realize these things when and while I'm doing them.  No, I don't care.  Now you know me a little better, we can be friends.

Another one of those reasons is because since I've been in Australia, I've found out that a lot of the locals I've met don't do a lot of travelling.  In fact, in regards to most of the people I've met, I've seen more of Australia than they have....and it's THEIR country.

So when Aussies do finally tell me of places I "need to go", I try to listen because let's face it, they're not going to lots of places.  Hence if they recommend it, it must be worth trying out.

Plus, my friend and current roommate at the time Joe "The Clown-man" Taylor made me push the button to book the flight...but I like to believe it would have happened anyway.

But the list of Australia anecdotes goes like this, since I've been here.  

1) Byron Bay & Nimbin

2) Blue Mountains

3) Bali, Indonesia

That's it.

All the other places I've been were things I've wanted to do for myself or heard from other backpackers.  These are the only things that Aussies do.  I guess if it's not a bourbon & coke or a pokie machine, it just ain't worth doin'! (Kidding Aussies!).  But in all seriousness, Bali is their vacation spot.  Their "Spring Break" spot.  Their "Myrtle or Daytona Beach" if you will....that's where they go.

The reason being I suppose is because it is so cheap!  Literally, once you step off the plane, you're a millionaire to them.  I'm not saying "millionaire" just for kicks...you're ACTUALLY  a millionaire!  They generally treat you as such.

Their conversion rate is something along the lines of 9,000RP (Rupia) = $1AUS.  So basically, 100,000Rp = $10AUS, $1,000,000=$100AUS.

So you step of the plane and get $100, you take $1,000,000 out of the ATM.  MILLIONAIRE!

I think it's the most retarded currency exchange I've ever seen.  They only do it to confuse the tourists coming in.  That's the only reason.  It's all about haggling there and they don't want you to know how much money you're actually spending...so they make it sound really expensive even though it's only $4 or whatever.

The locals get a kick out a haggling, or some will just come up and directly ask you for money.  You're white=you're rich.  That's the mantra there.

It's actually kind of annoying.  You can't walk down the street or go anywhere without being accosted to buy something.  Or get a massage, or your hair-braided (Okay, maybe that was just me).  Every shop on the strip, they all just sit outside and bug the every living shit out of you as you walk by.

I was told it was because they don't actually have the word "No" in their language.  Not that I buy that.  But once they taught me the term "Tedok"(sp?).  Which basically means "negative".  Or you can say, "Tedok trima-casi" (sp?).  Which means, "No, thank you" basically.  Or so I was told.  Not sure if the spelling is right, not even sure if it's "Tedok" or "Dedok"...but I do know once I started using their language more.  They left me the hell alone.

Once I stepped off the plane, we had to go through customs like usual.  Except there's a small wrinkle in this plan.  You have to pay $25 US, just to enter the place.  Depending on where you are from, they make you pay a specific amount.  I would also find out later that they make you pay $15 US just to leave the country as well.

Which isn't such a big deal in the grand scheme of things.  Except that's just the start of how they try to get you.  

Another way they get you at the airport is the "baggage claim" guys.  I almost got into a fight with one of them immediately...I am NOT happy with Bali so far.

I get through customs and am still at the ATM trying to wrap my ahead around the currency situation when I see a guy go and grab my bag.  He's dressed up as a customs officer, so I assume that I've been selected for a random screening or some such nonsense.  I do have a massively awesome beard on my face that apparently no Asians have never ever seen before...I wander over.

I ask the guy why I got chosen and what the check was about.  He keeps asking me about my friend.  I ask him where we're going and how long it's going to take.  He gives no response.  I'm getting nowhere.

Finally, Cheese joins me and hands his bag over to another guy, we walk straight through customs.

I hand my passport over to the last guy in queue.  Wait a second....

Why did we just walk right by all the other custom officers...why didn't I have to put my bag though the machine...why is that guy walking off with my bag!!!????

I leave my passport (not smart) and run over to the guy (also not smart, to run anywhere in customs).  I rip my bag off his back, "Give me my f***ing bag dude!?" I exclaim.

I want to punch the guy, I think he's robbing me initially.  He may not speak a lot of English but he gets the picture...he quietly and quickly walks away.  I turn around to the guy handling my passport and ask "Is that guy with you?".

A dreadfully funny ax-murderer profile pic of me

...I get no reply...he stamps my passport and hands it back to me in the process...

"Well why the f*** is he dressed in your uniform if he's not a part of customs!?".  I'm heated.  No one's giving me answers and I can't say I blame them, I'm not sure if they understand what I'm saying but you don't mess with a guy with a beard like that...>>>>

Cheese comes over to calm me down, apparently his guy spoke a little bit more English and explained that he needed a tip for his "service".  Which was, grab our bags without our permission and carry them 20ft.  

Cheese told his guy to "f*** off", maybe even gave him $1 I think.  My guy didn't even ask, didn't even stay around...he knew the deal.  That's what they do.  They grab unsuspecting travelers bags and take them out to the taxis'.  Which would be a nice service, if you asked for it.  But you don't and they feel obliged to do it anyways.  

And somehow they have free reign to walk through customs like it's no big deal...dressed as customs officials...there's some major scam going on here...I don't let myself get too deep into that.  We're through, "let's go find the hostel" is goal number one.

It only gets worse once we step outside.  I had heard tales of how annoying the Balinese on the strip could be, but it was ridiculous.  I was given a tip that walking around the airport looking for a cab was the worst move.  That we should attempt to find the actual "Taxi Station" itself.  The only problem is, since we took the cheapest flight, it's 1AM.  No "Taxi Station" is open.  

Zombies man, zombies

They all come out of nowhere it seems.  It's like "Night of the Living Dead".  I swear, you can't go anywhere without them coming up to you.  "Where you going boss?", "How about a ride chief?", "Good price, good price".  It's like, "Get the f*** away from me...seriously".

Oh, and don't even think about standing still...it just makes them worse.  At least if you're walking you can veer them off somewhere or continuously go and hope they can't catch up...then won't get the hint either way.  But if you're standing still, they just come stand with you...and talk...and talk...and talk...

I tell Cheese that this be what it's like to be famous.  Where people are just hovering around you like crows on a dead carcass.  We felt like movie stars with the paparazzi following us everywhere we went.  It was really terrible.  I have since decided that I do not want any fame...but I'll gladly take all the fortune you can give me!!! ;)

We finally decide to start bargaining with a guy.  Another tip that was bestowed upon me about Bali, was that whatever they offer, counter with less than half of that amount.  So, the cab guy wanted to take us to Bali for $250,000Rp(or $25)...when I knew that an actual cab ride should cost anywhere in the $5-$10 range (from my friend Khis in Sydney, who had just been there a few weeks before).

The Kuta Bombing memorial

We offered $25,000Rp at first...so roughly $2.50.  He was not pleased with our offer.  But we told him we'd been there before and started naming places in Kuta.  We do that everywhere we go but here it seemed more necessary than usual.

It makes the person you're negotiating with a little more hesitant to scam you.  I do it to cabbies especially; EVERYWHERE.  Travelling or not.  I just start spouting out random streets and landmarks so they assume that I know where I am and where we should be going at all times.

We talked with him and a few other cabbies until we realized their one acute weakness as a society.  The "walk away".  Yup.  That's it.  All you got to do is simply walk away and they'll give you whatever you want for whatever price you want and more.

"Oh, you don't want to pay that?  Okay, well maybe I don't want this anymore/find a better price elsewhere" (turning, walking)

"WAIT! WAIT!  Okay okay, no problem"

Simple as that.  We ended up paying a little more than one should but it was late and we just wanted to get to the hostel.  We paid $120,000 ($12) for the ride and considering the guy didn't even know where he was going.  He made out pretty well I think.  Cheese and I thought we were going to die.  It's like Malaysia in the sense that their are NO RULES on the road it seems.  People just do whatever the hell they want.  We almost killed 3 guys on Mopeds just leaving the airport.

The cab driver needed to pull over a few times and ask other's for directions.  So that wasn't a good sign to begin with but we eventually made it to the place we were staying.

The thing I love about Kuta, Bali though is that there are no doors really.  Just open, cabana type businesses.  Which was what our hostel looked like.  Except it wasn't exactly a hostel, in Bali you can pay hostel prices for nice resorts and hotels so we took our chances on one that sounded decent.

I let Alex book the room, he's fairly proficient in this area usually...not this time.  He generally takes his time, reads reviews, compares prices and so on and so forth.  However, he got a little confused about what a "double room" was.

So with a "double room" he assumed it meant 2 beds, what we found was one double bed...for both of us and a pretty foul smelling bathroom.

Right.  So now my first night in Bali is spooning with Cheesey-Mo, how delightful.

We laid down (no homo) and tried to watch a little Balinese TV,  we found Sportscenter which had an Orioles Vs. Red Sox baseball game on.  The reason I bring this up is because now I will fast forward you to our last day in Kuta 4 days in the future and every day at every hour, the ESPN channel had an Orioles Vs. Red Sox baseball game on!

Now, I'm not exactly a huge baseball fan so I didn't stick around to watch any of it at any point but I am pretty positive that it was the exact same game on a loop....I'm not 100% but pretty sure.

On top of all this, I was bitten several times on the chest by mosquitoes.  So there was a minor concern about the condition of our hotel room.  It turned out to be okay obviously, although we had just finished reading up on a "bed-bug" epidemic in Bali so it was pretty funny to see Cheesey freak out.  He hopped right up and got on his computer and did so much Bed-bug research you would have thought he had a term paper due in the morning.  Needless to say, the poor guy didn't get too much sleep that night (again, no homo).

Once we realized that wasn't the case, we finally got a chance to get to sleep.  We only stayed there for 2 nights for obvious reasons.  We were able to get another room with 2 beds the next day, but the place was dead.  It seemed like no one was staying there, which made me question the little guy at the front counter who thought it was funny that Cheese and I were "having to" sleep together.  He could have got us another bed I think, because the place was a ghost town.

Either way, the next day we went exploring, grabbed some food, and went to the beach.  After all that we went back to the hostel to kick it at the pool.  Which was still deserted.  I checked my Facebook a little too late and realized our buddies Kiwi buddies from Malaysia, Joel and James; had sent me a message telling us where to meet them that day and where we should go.

We had just missed them at the beach.  So I sent them a reply.  Cheese and I get out of the pool and decide to go find these places that our Kiwi scouts had designated as "must-sees".  No sooner had I gotten a towel to drive off that they came walking around the corner of our hostel.  Brilliant!

No phones, no way of knowing we were even there or what room we would have been in.  But because we were at the pool at that exact moment we ended up running into each other...it was absolutely brilliant!  I think it was that point when I realized that this was fate intervening.  That we met these kids for a reason and we were bound to have a great time from then on.  Fate is a tricky lady when she wants to be, but damn if she's not right a lot of the time.  Not much you can do about that, not that you would want to change it anyway though.  We were still missing 1 from the group (Sierra) but she arrived the next day...but I don't think she'd mind us doing some more "scouting" for her before she arrives...the party can begin....

Joel, Me, McGee, James

Seaweed flavor...but...why?

Performing monkey

Okay, this next little bit of information is for people who actually intend on traveling to Bali.  Whether you find the above picture cute, or cruel (because he is on a chain) you should know a little bit about this scam on the streets of Kuta.

The idea is, the owner trains the monkey to do various exercises and tricks...like riding a little toy bike, or in this particular instance in the photo, he's playing "dead".

Sounds fairly innocent right?  

Well, if you know anything about monkeys you know that they like shinny things.  Now whether this is the monkey's natural instinct itself or the training of its master, I have no idea.  But what the monkey will do is hop on you, grab whatever shiny garb you might be wearing at the time (sunglasses, watch, earrings, grill (if you're that ghetto and still living in 2002) etc etc.) and then hop back to their master.

"Aww cute" is probably what you're saying to yourself or thinking.  Well it's not so cute because you can't get it back.  The owner will now attempt to sell you back your own merchandise.  Claiming it wasn't his fault, it was all the monkey.  

Not that you necessarily need to avoid ALL monkeys or anything, just make sure you have your important things tucked away or at least a firm grip.

So you've been warned.

Not that this warning is for monkeys only however.  

A similar thing happened to my friend, one of the Kiwi's, Joel.  He went into a shop with a hat on his head.  Ended up being surrounded by a few Balinese guys trying to sell him other hats and various pointless tourist crap.  So he took his hat off for a second to try on other hats.  The guys in the store snatched the hat and passed it around until he couldn't find it anymore.  Joel's a pretty big guy and could have easily pomeled them into the dirt until he got what he wanted but A) he's not that type of guy and B) he follows the code of "DO NOT get arrested outside your own country".  They then showed him his own hat and tried to sell it back to him like he didn't just come into the store with it.

It ended up okay because he told them he would buy it back and began to pull out his money, when the guy put the hat down on the table he pulled a "snatch & run" and got away...with HIS own hat.

The bottom line is be careful with you stuff there, or it won't be YOUR STUFF for long.  

Kuala Lumpur

The KING and I

After the wedding, we chose to stay for two more days in Penang.  Everyone in the group had different flights out, with Alex and I being the last to leave.  Mabel’s father Patrick asked us to stay for one more evening so we could all have one final dinner.  That’s why he’s the King.  Seriously, you couldn’t find a nicer man or a more gracious host.  He was incredible. 

Everyone was really.  But for the amount of ridiculousness that was surrounding us at all times during this wedding, Patrick always kept it cool and went with the flow, you have to respect that.  As a final gift of sorts, at dinner that evening he provided Alex and I with the next mornings bus schedules and some suggestive hotels to stay in when we got to KL (Kuala Lumpur). 

Not the easiest place to walk into

So the remaining members of the wedding party group (Mabel, Kennon, her friend Tricia, Kennon’s mom, Wendy; Alex, and myself) chose to drive around and go to the Snake Temple.  I don’t do snakes PERIOD, but I do enjoy temples, so I was torn.  I did not participate in the snake touching however, that was ALL Wendy. 

It didn't stop them from throwing a fake snake on me when we left to grab some coconut juice though.    That was a treat...I didn't so much scream like a little girl.  Maybe a budding prepubescent lady.  I don't know.  I do know however, that you would not have been able to time me on quickness in that instance! 

Wendy wore "the balls" this day, not I

We went to dinner that night at the Penang Surf Club and had a “traditionally western” meal.  Patrick said he thought we could use a meal more familiar to our tastes.  He was totally right.  Not that the food we had during our stay was bad (far from it actually)…but I’ve been eating only Asian cuisine for about 2 weeks straight now.  The stomach was aching…I needed a steak.  Or something that didn't involve noodles at least.  

We woke up early the next morning bright and early and went straight to the bus station.  Patrick told us to look out for 2 buses in particular because they were quote “safe”.  Wait.  Why aren’t these buses safe? 

Believe it or not until he said that word I never considered that safety was an issue for some reason.

These are their trees...with snakes...and this is okay

Be it that I look like a hobo with my beard and long hair and have since assumed that others (potential muggers mainly) look at me and deem me unworthy because I don't look like I have any money, or just my general  congenial demeanor which provides me with a nifty security blanket in its own rights.    

Now however, it’s all I can think about.  This is the make or break moment when I either continue my journey or get sold into slavery...either way, we had arrived and it was time to say our goodbyes.  I thank Patrick and don’t exactly say goodbye…only “until we meet again”.  I like to keep my relationships with royalty open.  I did that on purpose because in truth, I don't know when or if I'll ever be in Malaysia again but I do know that I respect that man a whole lot and would like to see him and his family again either on his turf or mine.  

The last thing I hear Kennon say before he got back in the car was “Go upstairs”.  

Meaning, that’s where you go to get a ticket.  I literally turn my head to walk into the bus station and we are bombarded by non-English speaking Malaysians.  

What did they want???  I have no idea.  They kept asking us where we were going…”Don’t worry about it”, I exclaim.  But those cats were persistently annoying. 

I’m now a little worried about getting sold into slavery if we hop on the “wrong bus”.  One guy is telling us to just get on his bus.  That he will provide us with a ticket.  Yeah….right.  I've never heard of anyone just putting us on a bus and worrying about payment later, we pass.  

We push our way past all these people to go upstairs.  Only to find a new set of annoying Malaysians trying to sell us bus tickets.  There were at least 30 kiosks of bus tours and not one of them were the ones we were looking for. 

We finally choose one because it was leaving right at that moment, it was $35RM which is basically $13/person in American currency.  

Funny thing is, we go downstairs and it is the exact same bus that the other guy was trying to put us on...for free....to "worry about later" guy.  Great.

We get onto the bus, luckily for us, it’s nowhere near full so we get to pick our own seat.  The bus driver doesn’t speak English however, which is a problem because we don’t know where to get off. 

All we know is that the trip takes about 4 hours and Patrick told us to make sure and get off in Kuala Lumpur because if we get off in one of the smaller towns or suburbs, we’re basically screwed.  Good to know, bad for us though.

So Alex sleeps the whole way somehow and I read my book, all the while checking the time and other street signs to make sure we’re actually going to Kuala Lumpur and not to the farm or slave house.  

Downtown KL

We reach a major city.  We assume it’s KL but the bus driver just yells something in Mandarin.  People get off.  We don’t know what to do.  This usually leads to a fight between Alex and I...this is no different.  We're both quite stubborn in that respect and we don't like to follow the others lead, generally ever...it just amplifies when neither one of us want to take that lead or knows what is going on however.  

We’re in a bit of a panic but we don’t overreact, except towards each other obviously.  We decide that couldn’t have been our stop because it wasn’t at a station.  The bus takes us further into the city and literally pulls over on the side of the road.  

No station, that’s it.  The bus driver gets out to smoke a cigarette and everyone else on the bus seems just as confused as us, and they speak the damn language so what does that tell you?

We try to ask the bus driver where our hostel is, or at least a general direction of the surrounding streets, he has no clue. 

Cool.  We grab a taxi, he has no idea either.  Fan-f***ing-tastic. 

KL is getting better and better by the second.  It’s scorching hot and we’re walking around trying to find Chinatown.  A taxi guy bombards us and tells us where we need to go.  He also wants charge us 45RM to take us there.  We tell him no and try to leave but he won’t let us.  He decides that 20RM is acceptable.

Of course it’s acceptable.  The place was 2 blocks away.  We could have easily walked there, we knew we were in the right area but it was blazing hot at midday and we just wanted to be out of the sun.  So we took him up on his offer.  We got screwed but not as bad as it could have been and considering the guy didn't listen to a word we said, he's lucky he got paid at all.  

Mini-Apartments

Whatever, we’re here now at “The Reggae House”.  Very chill hostel, one of the nicer ones I’ve ever seen.  The rooms themselves are like mini-apartments, they had a restaurant and its own rooftop bar.  Plus air-conditioning, which was the main point for us at the time, we were just happy to be indoors. 

(And as a side note, it has a book exchange.  Most hostels do and this wouldn’t be a big deal, except that when I left my hostel in Sydney I found the first book of the “Game of Thrones” series.  I figured, "What the hell" I have a 9 hour flight to Singapore, I'm going to need something to read and plus some of my Aussie co-workers had been talking the series up for awhile.  

The weird thing is, I found the 4^th installment at this hostel! That’s so wild, same series, different countries. Random.  I snatched the book from the shelf immediately. Guess I'm reading that series now in full, can't just skip editions.  Luckily everything in Malaysia is cheap so I grabbed books 2 & 3 for about $9AUS (Aussie Dollar))

The "KL Crew"

We grabbed some food first and then we met up in the common room with some people staying in our quad.  2 Kiwi’s, 1 Pomei (English), 1 American (at least 1 everywhere I stay), and 1 Central American; they’re all heading out to go to a light show in at the Towers.  We didn’t really want to participate because the light show didn't sound all that great but we did want to get out and meet some new people so we went. 

It was terrible.  Worst light show ever and on top of that in the middle of the show they just randomly stop and observe a Muslim silence period of 30 minutes.  The Towers themselves were very impressive however but from what I’ve been told they’re about the only thing worth checking out in KL.  That and the mall with the rollercoaster inside.  

But guess what the Towers place is?  Oh, nothing...just A MALL!!!  Another mall!?  That's all they do in these Asian countries I'm convinced is shop and wear glasses without frames.  That’s it, we’re out of here.  Bring on the booze. 

We find out that the American girl, Sierra and the 2 Kiwi guys, Joel and James are all heading to Bali also!  

Which just happens to be our next destination after KL, we learn this information over a game of “The King’s Cup”.  Once 11pm hits and the hostel gets quite, we all decide to head down to the other Reggae Guest House, they too have a bar. 

We go in and drink tequila, meet some new people from the other hostel.  I end up challenging these Asian guys to a dance off when “Party Rock” by LMFAO comes on.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me in these trips but I literally just kicked my sandals off and went to the dance floor. 

The Two Towers

Turned out that one of the guys dancing with us actually OWNS all the Reggae House Hostels!

Now my new endearing nickname is “Caveman” dubbed by our new buddy “The owner”.  We have a couple of drinks with them and head off back to the hostel at a time I’m not comfortable with sharing.  I’m not comfortable because well, I don’t remember. 

The next day was a lot of the same.  Relaxing, making plans for Bali, catching up on my writing; just a nice, chill, hungover sort of day.  The nighttime was supposed to be much of the same.  

We had some pretty wild German guys move into our room.  Then the cards got broken out and what went from a few quite drinks at the hostel turned into the most intense game of “The Kings Cup” I’ve ever played in my life. 

So basically, we subtracted 2 Kiwi's for 2 Germans and raised the stakes at the "game of drink".

There was so much going on and so many drinks being passed out that you were almost afraid to do or say anything.  “The Kings Cup” has many rule variations, ours looked like this.

2-you

3-me

4-floor (last to touch the floor)

5-snake eyes (can’t look at that person in the eyes until the next 5 is drawn)

6-bitch card (you can make anyone do anything you want at anytime, until the next 6 is drawn)

7-heaven (last to put their hand up drinks)

8-never have I ever (everyone puts 3 fingers up and names things they haven’t done, you drop a finger if you’ve done what is said.  First one out drinks)

9-rhyme time

10-categories

J-make a rule

Q-Question master (whoever is the question master asks questions and if you answer that question you have to drink, you keep asking questions until someone loses; you keep the title until the next Queen card is chosen)

K-Put whatever your drinking in the Kings cup (doesn’t matter if it’s beer & vodka & rum & whiskey….like ours turned out to be)

A-waterfall (the person who pulls the card starts and the person to his left can’t stop until they’re through, so on and so forth until everyone is finished)

Okay, now add on to that the rules of:

“Not being able to hold your drink in your right hand”

“Not being able to say yes or anything resembling a word of agreement”

“Not being able to cross your legs”

“You have to stand up every time you take a drink”

“No pointing”

“No swearing”

“Every time James (the pomei guy) tells someone to do something he has to take 5 drinks”.

Some of my more creative commands included, making Nicolai hump the wall, a few other participants had to stroke a nearby plant in a seductive manner (i.e. “jerk-off”; I like to keep things simple) and lick peanut butter off the wall.  Just to name a few.  

There was way too much going on at all times and nearly impossible to keep up.  

Now you could have just skipped all that monotonous drinking game details and realized the end result was us all being smash-shwasted.  But it was complete madness....the 1 game itself took probably 2 hours, where there were times when we didn't have time to grab or play cards. 

So we decided to take our carny show of inebriated travelers up to the roof bar and see what kind of mischief was in store. 

   

On the roof of “Reggae Mansion” they had built a bar with a lounge area overlooking KL.  It was really nice up there but hardly ever busy.  That night was different.  Our new friend, "The Owner" came up with what can only be described as 4 tall blonde girls who will hang out if you pay them the right amount (hmm…what’s the word, oh yes…hookers) and decided to get a party going up there.

He grabbed a microphone and started having people participate in various games.  Not drinking games mind you.  Things like “Limbo” and “Musical Chairs”. 

It was as if we were at a small child’s birthday party.  Except there were no kids and all the parents were already drunk.  The games were fun though.  I managed to finish in the top 4 in the limbo contest, much to my back’s dismay but I got a free drink out of it, so I think I was worth it.  At least, that’s what I tell myself. 

We met a lot of cool people up there, all of which knew me as “Caveman” or “THE American”.  Which I’m totally okay with, “THE American” makes me sound like a super hero…or…a super villain, I guess depending on what country you’re from while reading this.

I finished my night smoking some Shessha (flavored tobacco) with 2 guys travelling from Morocco, a guy from Holland, an Aussie girl, and another Indian doctor guy (who would’ve thought?  The Indian guy was a doctor!).  

The 2 Moroccan guys just carried their own hooka pipe everywhere they went.  It was small, so they took it out, put it together and it was good to go.  Where did they carry it?  I don’t know, all I do know is I looked away for a few minutes and looked back to a hooka invitation.  Very very sneaky, like John Tuturro’s character in “Mr. Deeds” type deceptiveness here. 

This made the Holland guy decide how he was going to become a millionaire...he had this “great” idea…or maybe it was misunderstanding…about how his Iphone could play music, take pictures and video, call and text people, access the Internet, play games, etc etc….but he couldn’t use it as a smoking device…

So basically, he wants to invent the Ibong.  Classy?  Brilliant?  Innovative?  All of the above?  These are the people I meet in my travels.  I’ll probably see Mr. Holland again one day, except it will probably be on the cover of High Times magazine. 

I wished him luck and decided it was time that I went to bed.  We've all been there, at least the guys reading this have.  Not sure if girls play...but....

The night is winding down...and you're at the table with 6 random dudes (friends or strangers, doesn't matter) and the 1 girl that's left (for whatever reason) and it's just turning into a terrible drunken game show.  

Filled with questions to and from strangers that no one really cares about and answers that are even more pointless...because everyone there has the same goal and are only fighting back sleep for one purpose

....and the most important part of the game show, the stamina.  

Who is willing wait up the longest for their chance at baggin' the last remaining female.  

It's quite an amusing game actually, if you're not in it.  I used to sit around with friends and make bets about who would drop out first in sequential order.  It's good fun, as long as you're not one of the last remaining.

I've had my fair share of the "Wait-around" game to be fair.  I've been the guy to wait up all night to no avail, I've been the guy to wait up all night and been rewarded for my "patience" as well.  But more times than not, I'm one of the guys that ducks out early.  Happily by the way, not from defeat.

I just don't have the patience for that shit anymore.  It's either happening or it ain't....and if it ain't, I'm going to bed.  Easy.  

Besides, if it's reached that point...well, it should never have reached that point in the first place but if it has...

A) it should've already happened and you should realize that

B) you should at least know it's going to happen or that their is a chance, hell, you've been there ALL NIGHT

C) test your luck with the drunk girl at 6-8am...

Easy decision if you ask me.   

Is it a dirty game?  Yes.  Have we all played it?  Yes.  

I had no time for it that evening.  Some things are more important.  

Bali was calling.

Why? Why do you need a warning for this?