If there is ever a way to rock up to a five-star hotel in the middle of the night, it is via a tuk-tuk, ferrying this dishevelled Englishman - in typically-tourist "Bia Hoi" T-Shirt - and his friends, smelling of noodles and beer. The next morning I headed out with Sophie and found this very park, a time when I was less nonchalant about a giant lizard swimming past me like a mallard would back home. A man stopped and gave me a hand massage in the park, a criminal offence in England, and we ate some Thai food. Cue diarrhea.
After plenty of wandering I did something I truly regret, something I said that I would never do on holiday. I really am ashamed, but I guess I was caught up in the idea of being in Bangkok. Yes, I went to the gym on holiday. Should be noted as well that my travel buddies are professional athletes - two days later and it still hurts to breathe.
That night we grabbed food in somewhere that was not on the side of a street. Madness! As a result the service was absolutely abysmal, each of our meals separated by about ten minutes. Give me pho in Vietnam any day of the week. After that the night quickly slipped into what can only be described as depraved. We drank. A lot. I even drank Chang, the drink of (enforced) choice at my beloved Goodison and the sort of tasteless fizz that makes me yearn for something tepid and hoppy.
But a fair few Changs later and all was forgotten. It certainly helped to enjoy the last few songs of the Thai Beatles set in an Irish bar. We sat in a strip club that seemed rather tame compared to what I had envisaged. I had a chat with a girl called Mona, who had an ample personality. A street tout followed us around to numerous bars, and we finally went to his bar. It was empty, save for about twenty or more expressionless women, like department store mannekins. We made a hasty exit and went into another place where - in part due to Ben's exclamation - we were cheered on arrival. Never have I felt more popular in all my life. It was only inside that we realised some of the girls were not as feminine as the rest. An interesting Russian roulette.
After ditching a girl who offered to sleep with me for 2,000 baht (an eye-watering £40), we found another bar and let the tequila do the rest. An eventful taxi home in the very wee hours, with Ben managing to vomit out of the window in transit, summed up the utter debauchery. To add to our entrance on our first night, we got a security guard to take Ben to bed on a luggage rail. Bangkok is definitely a place to gain some emotional baggage. Then again, the numerous white, middle-aged men cavorting with ridiculously flamboyant girls would probably disagree. This truly is the capital of the mid-life crisis. Luckily I had mine years ago.
Friday nights events made Saturday a bit of a write-off, not helped by my inexplicable use of "condiments" in the Thai cafe the previous lunch time. Eventually we surfaced, before I went as English as possible and went to watch Everton destroy Stoke 4-0 in the Irish bar. I found a fellow blue from Ireland to watch the game with, and the Chang perked me up. I then went out for a few drinks in another area, more upscale than the previous night. I ended up on a rooftop bar with some ridiculously attractive people. My people. But after waking up on the toilet the previous morning 
and having not eaten since an ill-judged pastry binge at a drunken breakfast, I took my leave.
And that, dear reader, is it for the Thai capital. We are taking a plane to Chiang Mai this afternoon for another three nights. Time is creeping up on my return to English shores. And I can say with some pride, tinged with a little disappointment, that the only souvenirs I will be leaving Bangkok with are a couple of Chang vests and a sore head. A monitor lizard might slip through customs though...
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