Tales From The Front: No Passport. No Pounds. No Problem!

Published on 4th February 2019 by Stickboy BKK

Stickboy, Budget Bobby and the Preston Potter walked into a bar….

It started as a normal Slippery Sunday, with pints of Magners and lots of ice. But the evening took a turn when Potter’s new friends at the next table joined them.

Jack and Joe, two young lads from the U.K., had left their better halves at home and set out for a twatpacking trip across Southeast Asia. First stop was Phuket. Little did they know the journey wouldn’t proceed much farther.

The boys already had their big twatpacks, but Joe got the extra assignment of carrying a manbag stuffed with £2,000, their passports and phone chargers. But Phuket was hot and Joe needed to go shirtless, so he put the manbag on a table, stripped off his shirt and backpack and, of course, left the manbag lying on the table.

Only when they got to their next hotel did he realize it was gone.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Jack recalled screaming for days. Joe was in tears.

For Jack, it was yet another trip abroad go bust: “I’m the unluckiest man alive,” he said, swilling a Chang. “Every trip I take something happens. On my last holiday, I broke my front two teeth.”

Budget Bobby couldn’t believe it and thought they must have gotten their property back thanks to one of those kind-hearted taxi drivers you always ready about. But Somchai must have been on a somtam break that day.

“No, there was no Happy Ending!” Jack moaned.

No Passport

The boys were now penciled in for 8:30 Monday morning at the British embassy to obtain emergency travel documents that would enable them to … go directly home. Do not pass Go. Do not collect your £2,000.

Sunday night, though, they were making the best out of a bad situation. Or trying to. But the Potter did his best to make sure the boys miss their appointment. He started by downing the rest of Jack’s Chang pint in one.

Stickboy ordered more beers for the lads on him. The service girl brought cider. Potter tried to redistribute the Magners to himself and Bobby, but the passportless paupers reclaimed them. To show that pint was really his, Jack downed the apple juice in one.

“Please vomit the other direction,” Bobby implored.

For American Budget Boy, what ensued next was alien. Much shouting and cheering and fist bumping. Some high-fives. Stickboy made mention of some British pub behavior. It was all a blur. More Magners went down in one. Then came Joe’s turn.

“Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Nooooooo!”

Like the manbag, another failure. Suddenly Joe was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s off to the toilet to hurl,” B.B. theorized. Joe would deny it later.

Potter was then quizzed about his exploits with ladyboys. He denied that the “woman” he was with the previous evening was of the third sex. Jack seemed a bit too curious and excused himself for the loo. It was a while before he returned.

“I gotta say, some of those ladyboys are fit,” Jack said in low tones as he leaned in to talk to the Potter upon his return.

“You want to go to a ladyboy bar?” Stickboy chimed in, a too-eager grin on his face.

No, Jack insisted, he was not into that. He then pulled out his mobile and put on a slideshow of nude pictures and videos of his alleged British girlfriend. The Thailand expats pretended to be impressed by the blonde Brit bird.

Jack was getting stroppy. Joe was getting weepy. Stickboy scaled back the free pints to half pints. It was clear by that point that the only way such an old-home night would end was with an old-home fight, it was time to go.

Much hugging ensued, except for Bobby, who stayed well clear. High fives and glancing at watches, knowing that in a few hours the boys from Britain would have to appear before a consular official.

“Don’t worry,” Bobby told them on the way out, “You’ll smell like all the other Brits in line there.”

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