Part 1 here

I didn't so much awake the next day but gradually drift into and out of consciousness, fitfully emerging into the morning light ony hinted at by the heavy drawn drapes that concealed the ugliness of the Bangkok skyline without. Inch by resented inch I pulled my worthless carcass towards the bathroom and sat on the throne of God, not bothering to curse myself for my self-induced slide into oblivion; I'd been here too many times to question the cause. There were always so many causes and always the same, singular effect.

As I sat groaning, I tried to piece together the night before - always a bad sign that every drunkard recognises. First there's the blind panic - what happened? What did I do? Did I make a fool of myself? How did I get home...then the soused memories themselves waking up, grumbling and protesting, lined up in no particular order, a flash here, a hint there, a glimpse over yonder and the occasional oh my god crystal clear please tell me that I didn't realy pinch that nuns's behind sort of foolish notion which you momentarily indulge in simply because it's better than anything that you can actually solidly remember. Then the puzzle pieces begin to fall into patchworks within a frame and you slowly and thickly assemble the least unlikely possibilities to explain your blacknesses between the gaps of the moments. And as if by magic as your brain kicks in, flashes occur, slowly at first, then in unwanted drips and dribbles and finally rendering an undeniable sequence of what could only have occured - even with club size pieces still missing.

'There was a woman...'

Said the grinning soul.

Oh Christ, there was wasn't there? Somwhere between stupor and oblivion a warm femininity had insinuated herself into my misery and my arms and from there into my bed. As I squatted on the throne for want of anything better to do while my body ran internal checks and geared up to remove the toxins of yesterdays excess, I recognised yet again again that the mind had no such cleansing comfort.

Flashes continued to flicker as I pulled myself off the bowl and not bothering to check myself in the mirror slumped back down onto the bed. What was the time? One in the afternoon. The phone rang - would sir be staying one more night ? The receptionist inquired. I grunted something that must have sounded like yes even in Thai.

Over the next two hours I began to gather myself together, not an easy job, I rarely get that drunk and even more rarely alone. The memories fixed firmer together, yet were still peppered with yawning gaps. Something was bothering me. I showered and dressed, deciding to get out from the hotel and my smell, still desperately trying to remember the details, the face at least of whomever I'd brought home. Nothing. Sex? I doubted it somehow, more like I'd collapsed on the bed and fallen into a coma. That's when things started to gel slightly. Why was my wallet in full view, wide open on the writing desk when it should have been in my trouser pocket? More importantly, why was it completely empty?

Panicking, I spent the next hour ripping the room apart, pointlessly, it had happened, I'd been robbed; credit cards, cash the works I had nothing left. Cursing, I grabbed the door keys and went downstairs to reception.

As I waited for the lift the full significance of my position began to gel in my slowly clearing head. When the lift reached the ground floor, I thought to think for a while, to take stock, to sit down and work out the best way forward, for in a moment of clarity I realised that I could not pay my hotel bill, I had no cash, no cards no means of supporting myself in the short term. I went back up in the lift to my room, took deep breaths and tried to work out what to do next.

My options, I would soon realise, were a lot more limited than I ever could have imagined. My luck, as bad as it could surely get, but you always reckon wrong when the fickle lady discards you for another lover.

yechydda,