So, I had another day in the oh-so-stale town of Paske. Sure, had I possessed enough money, I could have taken a day trip, but with about $25 left to my name, I simply had to wait. Meaning I had to drink. And not the normal ‘oh-isn’t-southeast-asia-great?‘ laid back afternoon bevvies, but Drinking. With a purpose. Drinking to forget. Paske and the lost-baggage were my ex-wife + alimony and I wanted them both in my head no more. So I drank. For about 5 hours. On my own. I wanted to get on that bus and pass out. 10 hours with no iPod or book (finished the book earlier that day and charger was in the other bag) means I needed to achieve unconsciousness. Immediately. The beer here is hands-down the best around, so it wasn’t hard. I got on that bus and drank even more, this time to drown out the karaoke dvd’s they play on those overnight rides. After 20-minutes, ‘my (as my best friend would say) sobriety was completely stolen’, which was great…except that I had to pee-pee and didn’t think to go beforehand. But had to. I couldn’t sleep until I did. I didn’t know when we would stop nor if I could hold it until then. But I did have an idea. See, I was lucky enough to grab the back bed in the bus meaning I could, in theory, pee into the empty bottle. Now, while it only takes me a few words to explain I attempted to do said process, I should explain that just to…arrange everything took a good 20-minutes. I couldn’t sit up properly, I was on the top bunk. I had to wrap my sarong around me as not to show everyone my special-purpose stuck inside a bottle. Driver #2 came back for a few minutes to chat on his mobile phone, so I had to pull out a change of clothes thus my sitting-up-on-my-knees position made it look like I was simply changing clothes underneath the big ole floral-print sheet I was covering myself with, at this point looking like a tipsy homosexual Bat-Man. He finally left and I began. Now, not to get too graphic, but if you size up the opening to a big beer and the opening to your…well, penis, it should seem an easy fit, right? Loads of room for aim. No. I guess it….well, expands when…ahem, emptying and my initial attempt resulted in me…ugh, side-spraying everything that was so nicely surrounded in my cape. Kind of like when you watered the lawn and put your thumb over the spout. Messy. But, as intoxication and losing goes with guys, the 8 Beer Laos and I had another idea. For some inexplicable reason, I had black electrical tape in my bag and you-know-what-I-could-make-a-seal between….ummm, both things, thus, eradicating spritzing all over my thighs again. So there I am, occasionally using a free hand to move clothes around making it look like I really was changing, my unmentionable taped to a bottle of beer all-the-while trying to not fall over seeing how roads in Laos were not as smooth as the aforementioned booze. I finally finished, filled up damn-near most of the bottle and congratulated myself. But before I could high-five one hand with the other, I had to figure out what to do with this big bottle of warm urine. The trash can below me was of the normal Asian pink-and-little variety and the weight of my own extract would tip it over and thus…well, empty itself out amongst the tourists below me. Okay, idea #3 – I could tape the bottle up and then secure it to the iron storage area in front of me. Yes. A good idea! I did that.

Giggled myself to sleep, in fact.

Woke up 8 hours later in Vientiane and was escorted out the a door different to the one I originally boarded on- one I never knew existed.

One that also opens up into a tiny on-board toilet.