no touch monkey

-previously on The Prime Directive-

-previously on The Prime Directive

when last we left our lionhearted heroes, they were careening furiously down rock-clustered rapids of crashing white water with little more than a pair of poorly battered paddles and their scattered wits about them.

“we’re headed straight for that rock!” the cute one cried to the hairy one.

(at this point, I urge you to click this link and press the “play” button for dramatic effect.)

stay tuned for the dramatic conclusion of this week’s The Prime Directive.

our scene opens up with a tiny thai woman screaming directly and immediately into my face. like, i’m talking nose to nose, point-blank, unadulterated shriek-in-the-face. and i’m fairly certain we were both just as equally surprised to be in this particular stance. it’s not as though i’m unused to being screamed at this point in my life. everyday is a new adventure of being accosted by some overly excited asian yelling at me about how i should eat at their restaurant, how i should get in their cab or that i should run for my life because godzilla is coming. they’re a screamy bunch, these guys. usually however, because of my impressively gargantuan stature, these people are consistently yelling into my nipple, armpit or even navel regions. it’s for this reason, coupled with the fact that it wasn’t at me this woman was caterwauling like a super-sonic mt vesuvias, but rather for fear of her own life, that threw me for a GD loop and subsequently caught me with my pants down. now, as some of you may no doubt recall, up at the top of this page i briefly mentioned that miss helton and myself had gotten ourselves into ever so slight of a pickle on a white water rafting trip down a gorgeous rapid in phuket (one of thailand’s southern provinces, not far from kho phi phi where the hit leonardo dicaprio movie “the beach” was filmed). it was barely even a gherkin of a situation really, but we had gotten just slightly closer to the raft in front of us than we had anticipated so that when they smacked full speed into a rock, spun around and slammed into us, as the water came crashing down over us, i found myself face to screeching face with a woman from a neighboring raft. well flabbergasted as i was, i lost my footing and at the very next rapid was tossed from the raft with the grace of a discarded banana peel cast from the window of a speeding school bus. i could almost hear the three stooges sound effect as i flailed into the drink. but no sooner had i known the cool embrace of whatever body of water it happened to be in which i was floating, than i was pulled clumsily back to the confines of our raft. and with the mishap squared behind us, we took it upon ourselves to tear apart the rest of those rapids as sure as the monkeys danced gaily in the trees above our heads.

it’s been a little over three weeks now since thailand has known our wrath, so i opted to take a personal day and organize my always deep and ever-convoluted thoughts so that i might prime the directive, so to speak. not to mention that peeing out your asshole is spectacular motivation not to leave your room for extended intervals of time. but[t] in all seriousness i really am touched by all the emails and comments The Prime Directive has solicited. so i thank you, dear readers. from the bottom of my blackened heart i thank you, you steadfast and supportive sycophantic sally’s. now step back as i work it. having come from kenya, it was culturally quite shocking to suddenly be in a city that was so developed. besides having a hilarious name, bangkok also has skyscrapers, mcdonalds, traffic lights and alarmingly large hosts of british teenagers. aside from the british teenagers, who frequent my night terrors, i had seen none of these things in a considerable amount of time. but megan and i got off that plane with an agenda. we were on a quest for our own personal holy grail and would stop at nothing till our quest was at its end. so we checked into our hostel and immediately went to go see the new star trek movie (editor’s note: i could quite literally talk for the rest of this entire entry and then some about this prodigious masterpiece of cinema, but i will spare you. all i will say is that it is my favorite movie i’ve seen in the theater since the 13th of march in 1998 when the big lebowski forever changed my life. go see it, friend.). well, besides star trek and the in/famous khao san road where you can get anything from multicolored george clinton style dreadlock extensions to buckets o’ booze, from tattoos to pancakes, from custom made suits to ping pong shows (if you don’t know what a ping pong show is, then look it up. you might learn something. pop!), we didn’t see terribly much of bankok as we only had 4 days to get to the island of kho phangan where we were to meet up with our dear friend, the exuberant and lovable miss julia gulia winston for the full moon party. if you’ve ever been to a rave (shame on you) then you are likely no stranger to the goings on and tomfoolery of this enormous beach party. i was reminded of the starscape festival in baltimore, maryland, though rather than getting down in the baltimore harbor, the surroundings were a bit more like a gorgeous thai beach underneath a big old saucer plate of a moon – if you can dig it.

julia and her boyfriend sagi only graced us with their ever-lovin’ company for a few days before they had to mosey on their way, and we didn’t stick around too much longer ourselves. so per their suggestion, we headed to a much more relaxed little land called krabi, railay, or specifically ton sai, and though we didn’t know so at the time, ton sai is apparently a world famous rock climbing destination. while i wouldn’t necessarily call myself a climber, i have climbed my fair share of shit in my day and figured, “hey, when in rome”. before we knew it, megatron and myself had ourselves signed ourselves up for what is called “deep water soloing”. from what i gather a deep water solo is when two thai guys take a bunch of tourists out on a long-tail boat to mammoth limestone cliff sides in the middle of the andaman sea and tell us that once we’ve climbed as high as we care to go, jumping from wherever we are on the cliff into the water would be a perfectly reasonable next course of action. if we chose to do so, we were given the option of wearing a snorkel to help with the dismount. not only was it awesome, but it also included lunch. score! but possibly the most important thing I learned from the whole experience came not from the climbing, but from the paperwork i filled out beforehand. i suppose i had always noticed, but had never really thought about the fact that, not unlike our wildly popular former commander in chief, between megan’s first and last name has always sat that awkward prince of letters, the “w”. more than shocked, i was disappointed in myself. here all this time i could have been calling her “dubya”, but i had blown it and lost my window of topical relvance. thinking of all the torment i squandered myself out of almost made me ill. alas it would seem that just like my untimely bill clinton impression, which was also just recently perfected, it proved too little too late (editor’s note: from this point forward megan’s character in the story will be referred to as “dubya”).

but our visas only permit us to live it up in the land for 30 days at a time, so after some elephant-back treks through the jungle, foolishly indulging in deep fried bananas at a monkey sanctuary (do not do this. seriously.) and some rafting, it was back to bangkok to get new pages sewn into our passports. and i’d just like to state for the record that embassy’s are just about as fun as the dmv. but as thrilled as i was about suffering through a nauseating, early morning cab ride through the bowels of bangkok rush hour, dubya and i now have 23 brand-flippin’-new pages in our passports to mark up with exotic stamps and visas from around the world. and as long as the immigration officers aren’t dickheads like they are in ireland, and think it’s funny to put one stamp directly in the center of a page for no reason so that you can’t have anymore stamps on a page even though there was room enough for four stamps as long as a non-dickhead method of stamping had been inplemented, it should be good for the two years i have before it expires and i can’t use it anyway.

stay tuned for the next exciting installment of The Prime Directive: a holiday in cambodia.

wrong

wrong

me play joke

me play joke

club shell

club shell

this shirt turned out to be particularly funny when we found out the woman was a recently separated conjoined twin.

this shirt turned out to be particularly funny when we found out the woman was a recently separated conjoined twin.

is that guy wearing a bib?

is that guy wearing a bib?

live long and prosper

live long and prosper

passed out wookies! just like home. ;-)

passed out wookies! just like home. 😉

im like the cliffhanger from that cliffhanging movie

im like the cliffhanger from that cliffhanging movie

fail

fail

we may have sat in some elephant

we may have sat in some elephant

cowabunga!

cowabunga!

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4 Responses to “no touch monkey”

  1. PoppaSteve Says:

    Giardia again, Maxwell? Have you run out of drugs? I see that like me you never let the eating conditions deter you from an interesting meal! I was infamous at Hadassah for incorrigible eating habits in the old city. Love that baklava!

  2. kuruwitu Says:

    implementing the dickhead method is the prime directive, i have found

  3. like father like son, poppasteve. though no dump of mine could ever be quite as epic as any dad-dump. any scientist worth his weight in bunson burners will tell you there is no form of dump quite as heroic and legendary as the almighty dad-dump. it’s a phenomenon known as the dad-dump-trump.
    it’s science.

  4. Mommie Deariest Says:

    Nice beard A; my megan is always the tallest in the girlie crowd…..I am speechless about the travels…..keep it coming…..love u both

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