There is nothing more frightening...

I’ve been trying to find my stride with writing lately. I feel awkward, like those social situations, which have a process or some kind of etiquette that is either foreign to you or totally unknown to you.

Tipping is something I’ve always struggled with. Especially when you didn’t want the service rendered and the person rendering said service just stand there waiting for payday.

I remember holding off going to the toilet on the first night in Thailand at a local nightclub. I’m not sure why, I think it was the fact we’d stepped off a 9 hour plane fight and into the fire. So anyway, I hit up the toilet. Average enough, except I notice a Thai guy wiping hands and passing around towels. I start to sweat because the smallest denomination of Thai currency I have on me is a 500 baht note. Which is about $25 bucks. Anyway, I use the toilet, wash my hands and accept the towel I’m handed. I start to leave and another westerner tells me I shouldn’t leave without tipping. Now call me crazy, but even though, in my opinion, getting handed a towel isn’t worth $25 bucks. But what’s worse is standing there trying to explain this to a Thai who is being extremely polite and smiling. It makes you feel like a little bit of a tight arse.

Something must’ve been picked up in translation because before I knew it the toilet attendant darted behind me and his two hands shot out from under my armpits. I’m not sure what happened next, but all I know is that this 60kg Thai started throwing my head and limbs around like a rag doll. And the noise… I sounded like firecrackers at Chinese new years, machine guns in Mogadishu and someone stomping a pack of uncooked spaghetti.

Walking back to our posse I felt like Johnny Depp playing Hunter S on mescaline in Las Vegas. There is nothing more frightening… It’s just lucky I had to walk through the dance floor because I had no control over my limb, everything felt loose. I wondered how I’d feel the following day.