What happens in Vang Vieng… Ends up on this website

After a glorious tubing bender to end all benders, helped along massively by free drinks at Sakura Bar, I found myself shitfaced and alone in Vang Vieng. I’d also managed to forget my hostel name. And where I was.

Luckily I happened upon a local Ladyboy named Mango who had been staying at our hostel! What good fortune eh?! Naturally I agreed to follow her back, and she set us off on a merry adventure through random streets and ally ways.

A short jaunt later and we’re in front of an apartment block, not my hostel. After asking my wonderful guide why we were here, she explained she needed to get her cigarettes. No worries, I replied.

Funnily enough she was rather insistent I accompanied her, all after explaining she just hung around our hostel and this was in fact her apartment. In for a penny, in for a pound I guess, and I strolled in to find her lighting her pipe and smoking yaba. Pretty sure there were no cigarettes. I politely declined her generous offer for free yaba and explained I really did need to get home- a methed up Mango was my only saviour and things weren’t looking (or feeling) too good.

At some point I passed out (fuck you Sakura Bar).

You’ve never been woken up until you’ve been woken up by a methed up ladyboy with a pipe in one hand, your shorts round your knees, giving you the most aggressive hand job of your entire life.

After shouting ‘Mango Nooooooo!’ and legging it out, I burst around the corner to find my hostel, less that 50 feet away from Mangos mad yaba handjob assault den.

Needless to say I was on the next bus out of Vang Vieng.

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