ofromvegas

Technically I never left the airport.

I speak Russian.

Well it’s cheap.

I grew up in the city of sin.

The stench of tourists and decay are all I remember of bangkok. I was plastered with sweat and tears from laughing so fucking hard, from drinking too many mai tais. I went north on a train; spoke horrid French and woke up on a train. I shopped and bought so many material things I ran out of money. But when I walked so many miles into that jungle, and lost myself to a typhoon and to leaches and to little girls in school uniforms, I found the darkness in this world. I blink; I fall on the curb as tuktuks whiz past, and I am back on the train this time going south. I am drunk and karaoking with my thai friends who work on the train. Back to Bangkok, where east meets west, and I meet my fate on the airport shuttle.