The night I cannot remember

Needless to say, I have been loosing some sleep over the past few months regarding a topic that was bought up at my 21st birthday party. Luckily, I was able to depart the country days later in avoidance of explaining the context of the ‘sex-position competition’ which so happened to reveal itself throughout the speech ceremony. The fact that my Grandad left without comment is a win in itself, and the subject should be left there to ensure its absence at Christmas and Easter. However, many others present at my party, were listening, and were left with very little information on how this competition occurred and the intoxicated state I was in. Which, by the way, I think justifies my reckless and formidable actions, that will never happen again, ever.

Before I carry on, I must say this is completely out of character for me. Not so much the drinking side, I love a good glass of red, but more the ‘confident strip dancer’ side. I, in no way, can take back the actions of this night, so instead, why not post it on the internet for all to see and squander the night I became ‘that drunk white girl’.

It all started upon the arrival in Siem Reap, Cambodia. We had just checked in to our very ‘backpackery’ backpackers and were sorting out the details for our 5am start the next day. We had all agreed, that in order to see the Great Ankor Wat Palace during sunrise, we needed to have a peaceful night, and a good sleep. So with that we headed into the city centre in search of some food for dinner and snacks for the crazy early tuk tuk ride.

Whilst taking photos of the pub street sign, and all agreeing “tomorrow will be our big night” we happened to bump into some fellow kiwis. After a bit of banter about New Zealand and a few tips on where to go for dinner, the lovely young gentlemen presented some flyers for the Siem Reap Pub Crawl. It didn’t take long to convince us to ditch our early night plans, for a ‘few drinks’ and a ‘semi-early’ night so we could still make it to the Ankor Wat Palace the next morning.

The three of us walked away, agreeing tonight would be fun, yet sensible. Gettting ready to justify our contained drinking behaviour with the fact that we had already paid for the tuk tuk and well, money is everything when you are travelling.

Heading back to our accommodation with some delicious street food, we set out to get presentable and ready for our ‘civilised and early’ night on the town. Obviously, considering we weren’t ‘going all out’ the dinner portions were small, and the water drinking to a minimum, which in the end, all adds up to the messiest night of my life.

Arriving in some side-street pub, we were greeted with a t-shirt and some dirt cheap drinks. Taking it slow, we bought one each and headed over to the pool table to distract us from the others who so happened to be taking shots at the bar. However, my pool game is poor, very poor…and within minutes, a very handsome man came striding in to help…Jacob. Yup, not me, not the poor innocent sober girl who keeps hitting the wrong damn ball, but instead my well established pool playing MALE friend, Jacob. – Drink number 2

It didn’t take long for the boys to completely take over the pool table, leaving Ruby and I unoccupied and heading for bar. With little escape and even littler self-control – drink number 3

Finally, the crawl began. And with that, for the first time ever, I was picked for something. You know those people who always win competitions, always get picked to go on stage and be hypnotised, or catch the free t-shit in the mosh pit. Not me. Never have I had my moments glory… until this night. And what did I win, a chance to join in a beer drinking competition. Great. – Drink number 4 and 5

Leaving the pub, with a little sway in our step, we clustered together for a wee pep talk. We had to wake up at 5am the next morning, whatever we did now, we would regret when that alarm chimed only hours later. And with that we moved forward, focused and ready to say ‘ no’ and ‘lets go’.

Walking into the next pub we were greeted by some lovely thai ladies offering us a free shot of rice wine.

SIDE NOTE: I would just like to take you through my thinking process at this point.

Emma 1: Rice wine?? Rice wine?? Something is ringing a bell about rice wine…

Emma 2: Nah, its just like wine, its just a cheap way to give us drinks and keep us happy

Emma 1: Well, we shouldn’t be drinking anyway, keep it together woman!

Emma 2: It’s just wine.

Drink number 6

And with that I had my first of many shots of rice wine that evening.

The rest of night, with little surprise, was pretty much… one big blur. I remember playing pool with the handsome man from the previous bar…I also remember him walking away and ignoring me for the rest of the night. What happened in-between will forever be a mystery…Im sorry sexy man for offending you, it wasn’t me, it was the rice wine.

I then remember stumbling up a spiral staircase,to what could only be called the end of my innocence, the end of my era as a classy lady, the end of my dignity. It was here, that I was announced the winner of  the weekly ‘Siem Reap Pub Crawl, Sex-Position Competition’ and not only did I win it well, I won it in my underwear. I, myself, do not remember much of this competition, I instead was retold my actions the next morning by friends, and later, the runners of the the Pub Crawl whom we so happened to bump into later the next day.

The next morning, Ruby and I woke up in our beds, fully clothed in our pijamas, swimming in sheets of pringles and heads so heavy it took at least an hour to lift them off our pillows. Noticing the time, around 1pm in the afternoon, we congratulated ourselves on missing our early morning tuk tuk by eight hours, we saw that as quite an achievement. Once up and crawling, we managed to recollect our steps within our room, one empty pringles packet, both missing $80 and our bags and valuables completely locked and safe in our lockers.We soon came to the conclusion we payed $160NZ for one packet of pringles. Yet the tidiness and careful handling of our bags in full pijamma sets is questioned to this day. Taking each shuffle with ease, sunglasses on and waterbottles in hand, we slowly made our way to the cafe where we gathered up our memories of the night that we will never forget or remember


One thought on “The night I cannot remember

  1. The worst thing ever is your friends telling you the next day, how you were the life and soul of the party, how you had a great time and how funny you were. Haven’t touched Scotch for 48 years..


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