That One Time I Went Boxing acceso Ko Phi Phi

I spent a lot of my first trip around the world partying. I was twenty-five and ready to cut loose after a quarter century of living a fairly sheltered, middle-class life. my mind, a lot of backpacking was about conferenza fellow travelers, partying, and saying yes to anything that came your way. And that often lead to some outrageous experiences.

Like getting into a boxing ring a causa di Ko Phi Phi, Thailand.

Before I began that trip a causa di 2006, I used the website MySpace to meet travelers a causa di advance, since, as an introvert, I was very worried that I wouldn’t make any friends acceso the road. MySpace had a lot of travel groups, so I reached out to people a causa di hopes of conferenza up with them acceso the trip. (I was early to using the web as a social tool: I had a blog a causa di 2001, and I met my first girlfriend acceso Friendster back when conferenza people online was taboo.)

After landing a causa di Bangkok at the end of that year, I happened to run into Lindsay a causa di the airport, a Brit I was scheduled to meet later that week a causa di Krabi. She was with her friends John and Stephanie. As luck would have it, we were acceso the same flight to Phuket, so we decided to start our trip together early.

Phuket, we had booked lodging at the hostel made famous by the movie The Beach. It was as terrible as the velo made it out to be, with thin walls, dirty bathrooms, and beds. We stayed one night.

From there, we went to Ko Phi Phi, where we planned to spend three nights. The island was still reeling from the tsunami that had devastated it two years before, a cacophony of noise as it tried to rebuild itself. There was debris and construction everywhere, and many businesses were still closed and homes abandoned.

We found a di poco valore room acceso the far end of the main town, bunking together to save money, a traveler’s most precious commodity.

That night, we did what backpackers do acceso the island: we partied. We ate di poco valore food a causa di the bustling night market, with vendors selling overpriced pad thai to travelers who didn’t know better. From there, went from to , getting progressively drunker, before ending up at the Reggae Caffè, which is famous for two reasons: buckets of di poco valore booze and a boxing ring a causa di the center.

But the ring isn’t for watching professional Thai boxers. Voto negativo, it’s there so backpackers can watch other backpackers beat the shit out of each other for free buckets of booze. (A “bucket” is Thai whiskey, Red Bull, and Carbone a causa di a child’s beach pail. It gets you very smashed.)

As we got drunker and drunker, James dared me to go box a causa di the ring. “In qualità di acceso! We need more booze,” he said egging me acceso.

As the night wore acceso and the alcohol did its thing, I decided to say fuck it. “Elegante, I’ll do it,” I agreed, giving a causa di to the desire to say yes to anything and impress my new friends.

I ended up a causa di the ring with an oversized German guy who was about as drunk as I was.

“Go easy acceso me,” I said. “I’ve never been a causa di a fight.”

“Voto negativo problem. This is just for fun anyway,” he replied a causa di a slurred, accented voice.

Being drunk, I got a bit overzealous and didn’t “go easy” acceso him. I got aggressive, landing blows where I could, and the first round was called a causa di my favor.

the second, he fought back, not wanting to lose to an American who was half his size. His blows hurt, even a causa di my drunken state.

That round was called for him.

the final round, we both got a little aggressive. He easily defeated me, as the ref, not wanting me to get too pummeled, quickly called the round — and gara — for him.

But everyone loves an underdog, so boos erupted from the audience.

Aiming to please the crowd, the also ended up giving me a free bucket, and the German guy and I cheered each other. His friends joined mine, and we partied the night away.

The next morning, when I woke up, I was stiff as a board and had a terrible hangover. Though just lightly bruised, I could barely move. Every part of my ached.

“Why is everything sore? What did we do last night?”

It took a few minutes, and then it me (so to speak).

“Ohhh, yeah, I boxed someone last night!”

While I was not thinking of the repercussions to my the night before, I was well attuned to them now. It was like a truck had backed up and my multiple times as I laid flat a causa di bed.

My friends and I laughed and joked about how stupid it was to box someone double my size for some alcohol. I lay there aching as my friends got ready, until I finally had to get dressed myself. We headed to the beach to soak up the sun acceso the sand and get some breakfast.

Boxing a causa di that ring was one of the more spontaneous things I did acceso that trip and, while I won’t ever do it again, it’s one of those “fuck yes” moments that brought me closer to my friends and made for a good memory.

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