Having previously visited Cambodia, President Thor again took lead and booked his motley crew into somewhere unknown in Phnom Penh.
Uncoincidentally, there was a dodgy Aussie Bar across the road from the hotel.
As is the norm in South-East Asia, there were the inevitable bar girls serving beers. All lovely of course, including a deaf-mute young lady who naturally didn’t speak a word of English, or even Cambodian, as far as the Dunts were aware.
Realising a slight flaw in Thor’s planning stage by not having taken extracurricular deaf-language studies, the Da Nang Dunts ventured outwards, hunting memories to make.
The Phnom Penh stay was short but still included at least one extremely good night out resulting in one extremely bad hangover, one cunning scam, and of course, the very sobering, Killing Fields.
Sombre sufferings from liquid abuse the night before dissipated when visiting Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, or, as it’s also known, the Khmer Rouge prison S-21.
Tens of thousands lost their lives with only a very few surviving, the last two being Chum Mey and Bou Meng.
Meeting them both was a privilege the Dunts still value greatly.
Please, read their stories. What happened in Cambodia then remains a sad blight on humanity.
Now, some would argue the following is paranoia, some not. But when three dudes, all of whom worked together under the same boss, flee to places unknown to be lost in the masses, are then shoulder tapped by said boss… yeah, nah, surely not, nothing to see here… not even a little paranoia😉
A dehydrated, hungover visit to S-21 on a day pushing 40°C was, in hindsight, somewhat unwise. A struggle indeed!
But not even mention-worthy really, compared to the struggles that went on here.
Now, imagine this…
Some of the Dunts’ best massages have been down dodgy back alleys, given by century-old, partly toothed, wrinkled up, one armed, withered women. This one was not that.
A main road joint advertising too cheap to be true massage deals, sucking ol’ Sarge straight in like a Dunt to a cold beer. One of the worst massages in the history of mankind was had.
But it’s this next part where the story gets a little bit funky.
It wasn’t until paying for dinner later that night that the repercussions of that massage came to light.
The restaurant would not accept Sarge’s hard-earned cash in exchange for his yummy dinner, and for good reason too.
Sarge had unwittingly attempted to pay with a fake US$100 note.
Imagine the bewildered drunk conversations, head-scratching as to the who, what, where, when, why and how this was even happening.
But sure enough, there it was right there at the bottom of the note, the word ‘copy’.
How could this be? It was only withdrawn from the ATM across the road a few hours earlier.
Conversations were had with restaurant staff and other customers who spoke of a possible explanation to this mystery. Dodgy massage parlours that, not only steal cash from wallets, but also exchange fake notes for genuine notes.
Surely not!
Sarge had placed his valuables inside a lockable cupboard inside the same room as his massage, even locking it and removing the key.
Nobody entered the room, leaving only him and the worst massage therapist in the history of the entire world, ever… unless, there was a false back to the cupboard that could be accessed from the next room.
Dwelling upon it later, Sarge reckoned he knew how Dr. David Banner from The Incredible Hulk felt during his transformation stage.
Sarge may have got a little bit angry.
Sarge did not turn green though (not counting the following day’s hangover).
The other Dunts offered genuinely wise pieces of advice like ‘Sit down man’, ‘Have another beer, dude’, ‘Let it go, bro’, and, ‘Definitely, do not go back there because you may die!’.
Sarge loves sitting down.
As for having another beer, well that’s one of his favourite things in the whole wide world.
And apart from one world cup poisoning incident, he has throughout his life let quite a few things go.
He’s also never been real keen on dying either.
But Sarge has also never been a great fan of being scammed.
So, against very sound advice, Sarge went back to the scene of the crime.
Noticing the look in their Sergeant at Arms’ eyes, President Thor and Member quickly confirmed his NOK contact details, and started working out how much refund they’ll receive from hotel rooms should he die.
Exactly what went on during Sarge’s return to the scene of the crime remains a mystery to this day.
One particular rumour said he stopped off to grab a massage therapist sized coffin.
There were whisperings of frantic calls made and text messages sent, resulting in Sarge exiting somewhat astutely.
But what remains living legend in the Da Nang Dunts history is that Sarge returned with his original genuine US$100 note… and, both he, and his note, were intact, untorn, and very much not dead.
The celebration was large and long and, overtly alcohol fuelled.
Later, much later, in fact, a drunken Sarge did something he immediately regretted.
Forgetting his note was the paper American denomination cash and not the un-rippable Australian equivalent, he ripped that now infamous note, almost completely in two.
He knew all too well that in many parts of Asia, this note would now, in essence, be worthless.
His glowing smile immediately dissipated and his heart sank.
His mates got him another beer and as quickly as his smile faded, it returned with great gusto, until he woke up the next morning with a sore head.
Sarge does not like hangovers, especially on travel day.
But, like many events our Dunt characters deal with, it all just adds to the story along the way.
The following day felt like time to move on, so a struggling six-hour cab ride to Siem Reap ensued. Six hours is a very very long time to spend in a taxi when feeling Hulk green and trying hard not to vomit.
But Siem Reap does have Pub Street!
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