How To Start A Riot In A Brothel In Thailand By Ordering A Beer And Other Lesser Known Travel Tips by Simon Yeats Blog Tour!

 

How To Start A Riot In A Brothel In Thailand By Ordering A Beer And Other Lesser Known Travel Tips

Book 1 of a hilarious series of travel misadventures and dubious personal introspection by Australian author Simon Yeats, who from an early age learned that the best way to approach the misfortunes of this world is to laugh about it.

Simon shares his comedic insights into the unusual and uproarious elements of living life as an Aussie ex-pat and having a sense of Wanderlust as pervasive as the Spanish Flu in 1918.

From how to keep yourself entertained when unwittingly forced to watch 11 hours of live sumo wrestling in Japan, to surviving heartbreak in India at the hands of a French flight attendant, to 48 hours spent in Nepal that qualify as the funniest most gut-wrenching travel experience since Captain Bligh was set adrift in the Pacific, to his unsuccessful attempts at avoiding going to a brothel in Thailand.

Simon Yeats has gone into the world and experienced all the out of the ordinary moments for you to sit back and enjoy the experience without the need to break a leg or rupture a pancreas.

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So, my parents and I squeeze into the cable car like putty being forced into a crack in the drywall. The locking mechanism on the arm of the car engages with the cable that ascends into the black void above us, and we are off.

As the gondola car rises, I can instantly see why people get so freaked out about riding these types of things. The sheer rock wall in front of us seems to be forever about to smash against the plexiglass windows of our transportation coffin. That alone is frightening. But my dad is about to add another level of drama to what is already a tense experience.

About halfway through the journey, my dad stands up in the car and begins to gently sway it from side to side by shifting his body weight. My mum starts to get understandably agitated.

“Stop that. Stop that, John,” she pleads, trying to keep her voice light.

Dad chuckles, not out of spite, but with the rapid, intoxicating influx of endorphins, or adrenaline, or whatever weird hormone in his body that is sending a thrilling, addictive rush to his brain. Rather than halting, he continues to make the gondola sway.

“Oh, for god’s sake John, stop,” cries mum. The agitation in her voice now clearly evident.

Dad laughs. And keeps the gondola rocking from side to side.

I am wondering what kilogram per square inch of centrifugal force created by the arcing motion of the gondola is needed to snap the cable and send us dropping like a stone back to the departure station. Was the possibility of someone, weighing exactly 93.5 kilograms, standing up and rocking the gondola from side to side factored into the construction of the cable car? Dad is an engineer, and he taught me to have an interest in important engineering matters such as this.

We continue to sway.

Now mum is really freaking out.

And that creates a vicious cycle. The more she screams, the more dad continues to sway the car we are in. The more the car sways, the more he laughs. The more he laughs, the more she screams.

The laughter coming from dad must be booming across the hillsides like a Swiss alpenhorn. Mum’s cries of fear must sound like an air-raid siren.

And we keep on swaying.

The cliff face we are precariously shooting past in our escalation seems closer to smashing our Easter Egg to pieces.

Mum’s screams increase until they are as loud as those of my older sister after a stick she inadvertently picked up at the beach ended up having a jellyfish tentacle on it. The tentacle fell and draped across her shoulder like a thin, toxic scarf. She immediately fell to her knees, wailing. I wonder if their identical screams are a coincidence or genetic.

Dad continues to rock our gondola car into a second minute. Mum now screams as loud as my older sister did when dad poured the methylated spirits on the rash left by the jellyfish stinger. Yep, it is genetic.

Now here is the thing. I am witless. I do not know what to do. Like my mum, I am beyond terrified. But dad’s laughter is so infectious that it causes me to laugh as well. I am laughing at my dad laughing because mum’s screams are so blood curdling that it makes this petrifying event even more traumatizing, which only serves to make me laugh. I think that sums it up clearly.

Simon Yeats has lived nine lives, and by all estimations, is fast running out of the number he has left. His life of globetrotting the globe was not the one he expected to lead. He grew up a quiet, shy boy teased by other kids on the playgrounds for his red hair. But he developed a keen wit and sense of humor to always see the funnier side of life.

With an overwhelming love of travel, a propensity to find trouble where there was none, and being a passionate advocate of mental health, Simon’s stories will leave a reader either rolling on the floor in tears of laughter, or breathing deeply that the adventures he has led were survived.

No author has laughed longer or cried with less restraint at the travails of life.

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Giveaway to Win 1 set of all Three Books in Simon Yeats Lesser Known travel tips series in paperback and 1 set in epub (Open to UK / US / Canada).