crazy_lifeI often sit among my non-monger/adventure travel friends and listen to what they tell me about their “adventures” then I just smile and think about the dumb shit I have done and the stories I can tell if I wasn’t in their company.  Think about it, mongers/adventure travelers have done and seen shit most people only dream about.  It makes me smile when I hear about some dude telling me how much ass he got in college or the epic party where the coeds were flashing their tits.  Maybe it was the dream vacation with the wife to some island or Mexico for a week.  I nod and smile knowingly.

How could I tell them that once before a flight home I stopped at New Fantasy in San Jose, Costa Rica and tried to ask for a double blowjob by two chicas and instead ended up with two girls that were very much into each other and we got high as shit on weed before fucking and it was the wildest threesome of my life?  It beats the coeds flashing their tits at the kegger.

What about that time in Mexico where I ended up buck naked on a dance floor with two strippers doing a fake sex show covered in beer and shaving cream while being wildly cheered on by gringos and Mexicans?  Think that beats the fuck out of a resort on the Mexican Riveria or a “wild night in Cancun”.

Trying to drink in every one of the 50+ bars on Soi 6 with Big Daddy, get so abysmally drunk and falling in love with a bucktoothed, 30+ something mamasan, flashing her ID to everyone in the city, getting told I should catch some STD, getting a third degree burn on my leg, and eventually fucking the living shit out of said ugly girl after being hauled around by some motorcycle taxi bike driver for 30 minutes looking for the bar because I could not remember the name.

Earning my redwings with a girl out of Typhoon in the Philippines who wanted to fuck me and didn’t tell me until I was balls deep and pulled out with my dick looking like a candy cane.  Instead of freaking out I just kept on fucking her because she was horny?

Having a death threat on you for not paying a dollar to a taxi driver and then freaking out and calling the girl a puta.  No one said these are stellar moments but hey, they are stories I can tell.

Waking up in a tin shack in some shit hole barrio in Costa Rica by the girls “brother” who happens to be a transexual prostitute coming in from a nights work.  Then realizing I’m in the barrio and I gotta get the fuck out of there and being the only gringo for miles.

Hell, I won’t even go into the number of strippers and massage parlor girls I have ran through over the years in the.  Not even counting the Russian who will never speak to me again because I disrespected her after a night of vodka.

The list could go on and on.  This doesn’t include the bits and pieces of cultures and languages I have picked up in my travels.  The experiences I have had in foreign countries, the people I have met and interacted with.  The food I have tasted and the places I have eaten it at ranging from 5 stare restaurants to shacks and food carts.  The stories I can tell just seem to blow my domesticated friends away.  I’m not saying my life is better, but it is damn sight more exciting then talking about their kid not sleeping through the night or that their wife is nagging them again.

I hear a saying once that a hangover lasts a day but a good drinking story lasts forever.  Well, a good mongering/adventuring traveling story will do the same.  The memories and the stories have made my insane and somewhat questionable life all worth.

Spanky