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Published: March 28th 2006
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After his failure as a man, a human being and a Buster at the Cu Chi Tunnels Joe has decided to try and redeem himself. He has booked himself onto a tour of the Mekong Delta. I have decided not to join him and, instead, spend my time more fruitfully in Saigon. After all who wants to spend hours on a bus followed by hours on boat followed by hours on a bus again? Joe is away at dawn and, seeing as how it's pissing rain, I decide to start the day with a little sleep in. I finally rise at 11.00am and make my way down the street in search of some breakfast. I find a nice little cafe and start with a coffee. There is a little metal filter placed atop a clear glass and the coffee slowly filters in. Then palm oil milk is added. Sweet, refreshing and addictive! I follow this with a bacon and egg scramble, sausages, fried rice and a few bananas. The time is now 1.00pm and I figure a few beers are probably in order.
There are plenty of street side bars to choose from and I take my book, settle down
and enjoy a few BGIs. A Swedish girl called Annika joins me a tells me that today is her 21st birthday. We have a few beers and she tells me she has been down at the beach for a couple of days and is a bit sunburnt. She asks if I can come up to her room and "rub the lotion" all over her body. I say "Sure" and then my head hits the table with a loud CLUNK! and I am finally fully awake.
I spend the rest of the day wandering around Saigon, hitting the markets, etc, and stopping frequently to enjoy the hallucinatory effects of a BGI or two. Wilson returns late that afternoon and shows me endless photos of a river bordered by run down houses. I have attached one here just so you get the idea. His unauthorised mini-bust is no redemption of his anti-buster attitudes of the day before.
That night we find a place we christen "Skinny Bar". It is about 2 metres deep, 10 metres wide and three stories high. They serve Baileys Irish Cream and Saigon Red beer so we sit and watch the grand parade that makes up
this funny old thing we call Life.
The next day we book into The Rex Hotel for our last night and day in Vietnam. We have opulent, air conditioned rooms and we spend hours in the pool, at the 5th floor bar and playing tennis. Wilson is certain he will own the court, what with him being a triathalete and such an all round sportsman while I am just a singer in a band with a vast array of female fans. Naturally I beat him so bad at tennis he ends up crying like a little girl. He gets so over heated from chasing all my "winners" that he has to take his shirt off even though it's raining.
That night we eat at a restaurant called Miss Saigon and choose our fish from one of the giant green tanks. They split it in half and steam one side and grill the other with a very forward sweet and sour sauce. Wilson starts to feel a bit funny in the tummy but a quick visit to the karzi and he is right as rain, sucking down brandy alexanders and breathing Marlboro Lights.
That night I sleep in
comfortable, quiet, air conditioned bliss. The Rex has a breakfast buffet that puts The Cosmos Hotel, Leningrad, 1986 to shame and Wilson and I tuck in like only a couple of G1s can. We check out of the hotel and take the time to visit the war museum. Wilson sees his opportunity and leaves us with an image that I am sure will resonate until Buster 3 finally takes place.
We head out to the airport only to find that our plane has been delayed 75 minutes - just enough time to miss our connection in Bangkok and, maybe, Xmas back home. At Bangkok we have to run from one end of the airport to the other and I feel every indulgence from the last 2 weeks. We make our connection just in time but only find out that our luggage didn't when we get home.
Well, what can I say? What a journey! What an adventure! What a Bust! I pay tribute to my two outstanding companions and urge all the lower grades to keep on trying to act more and more like the G1s.
All The Best.
PS: Barry, I hear you in relation
to your upgrade and understand your desire to withdraw from competition. I also seriously take into account V and Rs opinions. Therefore it only leaves me to say, "Wecome BC G6 D, you're our kind of lower grader!"
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Richard
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Encore
Surely there's still more to come? The inflight entertainment on the trip home. The glorious welcome at the airport from frantic family and friends. The chairing at shoulder height through the streets of Sydney, bursting with fans up to one deep on the footpath. Please...please. Those of us who live vicariously through the lives of others need this stuff real bad. C'mon man. Just a sniff...one sniff...