Jared, Justin and Andrew embarked on a grueling 12 hour bus-bus-boat-taxi journey to the Gulf Island of Koh Samui. Christopher was "tending to his affairs" in Geneva, but met us at the hotel after a refreshing business class journey aboard Qatar Airways. We were surprised to see that Mr. Ting had traded his usual business roll-aboard suitcase for a green rucksack that Jared forced him to buy (and for which his father ridiculed him for demeaning himself "as some shitty backpacker").
Within a few minutes of arriving on Koh Samui, we immediately donned obnoxious fluorescent tank tops and went to the Half Moon Party. Which is like the famous Full Moon Party, but half of the guests are shrouded in darkness.
In lieu of a traditional pregame, we collected the outrageously cheap Thai whiskey from our hotel room and brought it on a flatbed truck ride to the pier. Think rebels in an African civil war. At the pier, we joined a dozen Euro(trash)pean partygoers. United only by our obnoxious fluorescent tank tops, we boarded a speed boat for the 40 minute trip to neighboring Koh Phagnan. Think Caribbean drug runners.
The party on Koh Phagnan took place in a clearing in the jungle, with black lights aplenty and fluorescent paint covering every surface, including bare skin. One of us disappeared into the night with a mysterious Italian lover, one of us got fweaky on an ancient Buddhist monument, one formally introduced himself to every woman at the party, and one sang, "Call Me Maybe" on stage with a bunch of British women. Also, one of us "fell asleep" on the island and was left behind, to find his own way back in the morning, despite the valiant rescue attempts of his compadres.
Koh Samui wasn't all body paint and desecration, however. We also took full advantage of the island's natural and cultural attractions. We mopeded around the island and didn't die; we spent a full day at Angthong National Park, a collection of 42 uninhabited islands in the Gulf. One of these islands, like everything else in Thailand, claimed to have inspired "The Beach." We spent our day snorkeling, kayaking, and bagging craggy peaks with staggering views of the Gulf.
A highlight of this day occurred after kayaking, when Jared and Andrew were having difficulty hauling their water-logged kayak up the beach. Chris had already singlehandedly dragged his kayak to its resting place, and he predictably, cockily, demanded to take over and finish what we had started. He grabbed ahold of the bowline and pulled with all the might of a BB&N offensive lineman. The rope snapped, propelling Mr. Ting face first into the sand at the feet of an attractive Dutch damsel of approximately 15 years.
Within a few minutes of arriving on Koh Samui, we immediately donned obnoxious fluorescent tank tops and went to the Half Moon Party. Which is like the famous Full Moon Party, but half of the guests are shrouded in darkness.
In lieu of a traditional pregame, we collected the outrageously cheap Thai whiskey from our hotel room and brought it on a flatbed truck ride to the pier. Think rebels in an African civil war. At the pier, we joined a dozen Euro(trash)pean partygoers. United only by our obnoxious fluorescent tank tops, we boarded a speed boat for the 40 minute trip to neighboring Koh Phagnan. Think Caribbean drug runners.
The party on Koh Phagnan took place in a clearing in the jungle, with black lights aplenty and fluorescent paint covering every surface, including bare skin. One of us disappeared into the night with a mysterious Italian lover, one of us got fweaky on an ancient Buddhist monument, one formally introduced himself to every woman at the party, and one sang, "Call Me Maybe" on stage with a bunch of British women. Also, one of us "fell asleep" on the island and was left behind, to find his own way back in the morning, despite the valiant rescue attempts of his compadres.
Koh Samui wasn't all body paint and desecration, however. We also took full advantage of the island's natural and cultural attractions. We mopeded around the island and didn't die; we spent a full day at Angthong National Park, a collection of 42 uninhabited islands in the Gulf. One of these islands, like everything else in Thailand, claimed to have inspired "The Beach." We spent our day snorkeling, kayaking, and bagging craggy peaks with staggering views of the Gulf.
A highlight of this day occurred after kayaking, when Jared and Andrew were having difficulty hauling their water-logged kayak up the beach. Chris had already singlehandedly dragged his kayak to its resting place, and he predictably, cockily, demanded to take over and finish what we had started. He grabbed ahold of the bowline and pulled with all the might of a BB&N offensive lineman. The rope snapped, propelling Mr. Ting face first into the sand at the feet of an attractive Dutch damsel of approximately 15 years.
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