Bitch

Today marks the start of the 3-day Water Festival. For 3 days the entire country descends on Phnom Penh for boat races , concerts, boxing matches, and all sorts of carnival style fun. And, of course - all the requisite (and much loved) sex, booze, and gambling. For barangs dumb enough not to go up- country for the weekend, the festival means:

• Streets clogged with groups of wandering villagers gawking at everything - especially foreigners.
• Impossible traffic - whether you are walking or driving. It's wall to wall people. Avoid the riverside; Sihanouk from St. 63 to the river; Sotheros...Fuck it - don't go anywhere until at least 9pm.
• Wild-eyed girls from the provinces and curious garment factory workers in town looking to have some fun and make a buck.

I was feeling dog-tired last night, but I've been fantasizing about the coeds in my classes more frequently than usual. When this happens, it's time to get laid, so DiverTX and I headed to Shark to get things started, and maybe score some fresh village cutie in town for the weekend.

Sharky Bar: (11:??pm-1:30am)
Pretty cleared out by the time we got there and not many women. But Big Chef was out for a party and there was good crowd of locals, so we started boozin' and schmoozin'. The conversation went from: Women Who Drool to Women Who Open Like a Canyon to The Wisdom of Older Viets to The Upcoming Mid-Term Elections to Hurricane Katrina to Dickhead Insurance Companies to Bathtub E* to Donating to Charity, and finally, back to Women Who Drool. I also remember:

• Word on the (alleged) young-loving CA cop who blew his brains out with a jailer's K-54 - it happened just the way the police said it did. He pulled some McGuyver-shit and used a mop handle to get the gun from under a guard's pillow, drag it to his cell, and put a round in his head.
• The American beggar is gone. Someone finally found a way to pack him up and ship him home.

3 drinks and a j, and I was kind of buzzed. If I was to get some, it would have to be soon. DiverTX and I hopped in a tuk-tuk and shot over to The Big M.

Martini's Bar and Disco: (1:30am-3am)
Not the crowd I expected - kind of slow. Hit the disco - semi-packed. Got my first of several vodkas - shout out to Buddy Holly for the drink - and found my quiet corner. Dredge was working a tall dark mama who I thought would be cool until she made a face when I sparked up. Fuck that. Smell of nature's best bother you honey? Go shake it at the FCC. But her friend was cute. I was pretty fucked up - had to make sure she was a she. After stroking her throat in search of an adam's apple...I still couldn't tell. Exasperated, she jammed my hand into her crotch. No cock. Dig it. By this time, her friends were dragging her out the door. Damn. Also:

• 2 drunk cuties working my crotch all night. Many thanks.
• The DJ fucking-up majorly. What prompted him to kill the dance floor with Rod Stewart and that,"Oh Ricky You're so Fine" song??!! It's a good thing foreigners don't carry guns anymore.
• The bar rejecting Little John's $20 bill. That bill was OK - just been through the wash.

I made a date with one of the crotch grabbers and we headed to Howie's.

Howie's Bar:
It was hoppin'. Good energy. AND - it was Howie's birthday. He was celebrating with free drinks til 5am (!!) Nice. Crotch grabber was all over me: wrapping me up and darting her tongue into my mouth, so I couldn't keep up with most of the conversations around me. What I recall:

• Recriminations of a business nature
• Charges of video-taped sex....
• Jagermeister and Black Sabbath
  
• Howie limping along on a bad leg. Another motorbike ride gone bad.

Another night at Howie's. By 5am, I was too drunk to avail myself of any more free alcohol. So we headed over to the Walkabout to pay for some. Stopped on the way at the corner bar across from Shanghai. DiverUK bought me a vodka and we rapped. Can't remember the name of the place. I'm told it's the, Yama-Hound Kiwi Who Thinks he's from South London Bar. Said yama-hound tried to charge me for a phantom drink. It didn't work. For that I say, "FUCK YOU." It may have been an honest mistake but hey - Unless you are a trucker, fisherman, taxi-girl, or biker - Yama and business don't mix.

The rest of the morning was unremarkable. Lost the dark pixie at the Walkabout** and stumbled home. I remember sending a slew of X-rated text messeges to exes and passed out hard. When I woke up around 2:30pm, I found SK had come home, taken my phone, and disappeared. Bitch. A perfect start to the Water Festival.


(*Just Say No)
(**I gave her $5 and told her I'd see her later tonight.)