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Krabi 69

19 Jan

My favorite 69…

The Krabi 69 is about as about as sweet, nasty, and gushy as you can get.  And it happened in a jail cell in Thailand, which makes it even sweeter.  Krabi later became synonymous with crappy, lame, disappointing, banana hammock, overpriced, or vanilla if you’re of the Kristin Cavallari persuasion, which I am definitely not because vanilla is delicious and Brody Jenner is not.  The Krabi 69, however, is a parallel for sweet, nasty, gushy, romantic, kindred, and memorable. The Krabi 69 takes place on a last minute holiday from Thai School/vacation.  Destination Krabi, in southern Thailand, beaches and beauty galore.


The journey:  was the mother of mood killers (similar to crabs, both kinds), except for the bright Disney bus that brought us to Crappy, I mean Krabi, which I’m not sure even counts, as Shimmer Tits still laughs at my uber-blonde emergence at a snack stop midway through the night.

SugarTits, as we exit the bus to purchase some strange, Thai snacks, namely fried broad beans and corn milk: “Taylor, don’t let me lose you.  I won’t know which bus to get back onto.”


Shimmertits, staring at our bright-as-the-sun, supervamped, bedazzled Mickey Mouse overnight bus parked amongst a bunch of stream-line, plain-jane buses, dumbfounded by my hopeless oblivion: “Um…it’s the bright Mickey Mouse bus that Minnie and Goofy are skiing all over.” SugarTits, figuring out the obvious: “Right.  Well it is the middle of the night, and I haven’t had my Thai corn milk yet. I’m a little out of sorts, as usual. You should know this by now. We’ve spent the last 60 days together. My lack of awareness should be expected.” By the end of the trip, it would be completely embraced, as well as expected. Shimmertits, to herself: “Whew. Seven more hours to go. Bliss, here we come.”

Probably twelve hours later, a few Kinderbuenos and countless glossy magazines later, oh, and one princess towel to cover up against the leaking air conditioner, we finally reached Crappy, sorry I mean Krabi.  And it was, indeed Krabi, and I do mean disappointing/offensive.  We did not find golden beaches and frolicking bliss. We did not find cheap, cute bungalows, and we did not find clear, delicious waters. We found leathery banana hammocked European creepsters and very expensive mascara. We did not find Glitter Bliss (aka Ko Tao).  We found Krabi (aka lame).

The Love Shacks and the Nasty: The day was spent dodging banana hammocks and being absolute cheapskates, which we have a knack for, because we like to keep our wallets nice and plump, just like our hips (that don’t lie). Badonkadonk.  We finally gave in and spent a whopping $14 on accommodation for the evening after hours of exploring and one splashy longtail ride to Ralay Beach.  But there was air conditioning. Glorious.


We were on a splurging roll so I payed $3.00 for a cup of Earl Gray Tea somewhere (during a tea obsession).  Taylor realized she had not packed her mascara (a must!) and spent $9 on some crappy stuff.  We spent the evening bitching about the stench and eyesore of Krabi and reading The Game , which means that I snuck a read in every time she put her book down because I got hooked.  I recommend.

Fearing our wallets needed to go on a diet, we opted to find a cheaper room.  In a state of what now can only be classified as Krabi-crazy, we agreed to rent a jail cell for the evening.  It wasn’t an actual jail cell, but it was definitely worse.  Did you see the Beach?  His first room?  It was way worse.  Down a dark little alley with a barred entrance, no windows, one tiny bed, a smelly bathroom, and a concrete floor.  But we saved a whole $5, which we spent drowning out our misery over Manhattans and steak.  Which actually means that the little jail cell flooded (and it wasn’t even Songkran, but that’s another story so stay tuned) and we went out for drinks to stay dry, but realized that Manhattans are not Cosmopolitans and steak in Thailand is…not steak…and we went back sober and hungry for a night of Krabi 69, complete with coconut incense to cover the stench from the flood. We didn’t actually both fit on the bed ($5 is a lot in Asia, okay) so we had to sleep in a 69 position.  Thank goodness for cheap Thailand pedicures because Taylor’s feet smelled great.  We slept through it.  We laughed a little, and we didn’t get sick of each other, the stench we did get sick of, but not the company. The next morning Taylor lost her swimming suit, neither of us got a tan, or swam in the ocean because it stunk, and we tried to raise our spirits by ordering our favorite morning glory for lunch, but the ritzy lunch place we went to didn’t have it.  Struck out again.  We made our way back to our little university town on another bus where the seats would not recline, with no more glossy magazines, but plenty of leaking air conditioners.  We did not find the Krabi we were looking for.


The Romance: We found losing-our-swimsuit morning, and morning-glory-rejected afternoon.  We found cutting-our-feet-on-coral beach jaunts, overpriced-mascara-runs, and Manhattans-are-disgusting-evenings.  We found banana hammocks. We found Krabi.  But we also found the Krabi 69.  We found that we could travel together.  Through banana hammocks, dieting wallets, jail cells, and disappointment.  Through thick and thin. And so we found romance after all.  We found some kindred for our spirits, and developed a heavy reliance for princess towels, backup mascara, and incense matches for further adventures around the world.  We found that laughter is necessary for disappointment, and lame banana hammock/jail cell vacations make great memories.

Next up: Ko Tao (Surprise Bliss).

Love, Sugartits

wine not

Life is short, savor every moment. Wine not?