When one does not know if it is a good morning or was a good night, one is in Chiang Mai.
Always, on the nights prior, I’d have a big jug of Mug-a-rita from Elvis Loco; And a small-town, crazy party at Zoe’s; And some more Hong Thong sessions in the hostel. Often, I’d not see any bed until 4am.
But always too, the next days’ adventures weren’t ones to miss. So those would happen— with racoon eyes and a head that spun.