Bros, it’s time to come clean. For the last five years, I’ve told my wife that my annual 4-day trip to Bangkok with the NS boys is a strict, highly spiritual pilgrimage. I tell her we go to pray to the Four-Faced Buddha for our careers, our BTO queue numbers, and our general huat.
The truth? The only thing getting cleansed is my wallet, and the only “merit” I’m making is tipping the staff at Nana Plaza.
We have it down to a literal science.
The Cover-Up Protocol:
- The Alibi Check-In: Touch down at Suvarnabhumi. Drop bags. Immediately rush to the Erawan Shrine in the sweltering heat. We buy the flowers, the incense, and take a group selfie looking appropriately solemn and sweaty.
- The Decoy Text: Send the photo to the wives with the caption: “Wah dear, very hot but very peaceful here. Going to meditate now.”
- The Reality: The moment that WhatsApp message gets the blue ticks, the holy aura evaporates. We are instantly in a Grab to a lup sup KTV or a questionable massage joint.
Let’s be real for a second. Living in Singapore is stressful. You’ve got insane KPIs, a soul-crushing mortgage, COE prices hitting the roof, and a wife who nags if you don’t fold the clothes the “correct” way. This annual trip isn’t just about the lup sup activities—though, I won’t lie, the cheap Singha and pretty hostesses are a massive bonus. It’s about four glorious nights of absolute, unadulterated freedom.
Nobody is asking me to clear the recycling bin. Nobody is judging me for eating three plates of moo ping and pad thai by the roadside at 3 AM. We are just a bunch of tired, middle-aged uncles reliving our prime, acting like absolute degenerates in a city that doesn’t judge.
“Spiritual retreat? More like spirit-drinking retreat.”
The guilt? Honestly, non-existent. When Sunday rolls around, we drag our deeply hungover bodies to Big C Supercenter. We load up on the obligatory peace offerings: Koh-Kae peanuts, Mama instant noodles, and a NaRaYa elephant pouch.
I reach Changi Airport looking like a literal zombie. My wife takes one look at my dark circles and says, “Aiyo, you pray until so tired ah?”
“Yes dear,” I whisper, handing over the tom yum noodles. “The spiritual energy was overwhelming.”
See you boys in BKK next year. Sadhu sadhu sadhu.