What happens next is somewhat inexplicable, but I will attempt to shed some lights on the events of tubing down the Vang Vieng river. There are about twelve to fifteen bars scattered all along the length of the river, and you can go wherever the party is loudest by simply letting the river carry you and stopping where you want.
How does one achieve this, you might ask, since tubes generally do not have brakes? You struggle to paddle to the bank but end up yelling inexplicable words to the amused locals who do not speak English. They in turn laugh at your flailing, throw a sand-filled bottle tied to a rope in your general direction and reel you in, should you be lucky enough to catch it. Otherwise it’s on to the next bar.
You struggle some more to climb up the steps/dock/plank of wood and go up the mud slide to drink another bucket at the bar. You play mud volleyball, tug-of-war, jump off tarzan ropes, dance or slide down the aptly named Death Slide (side note: I slid down the Death Slide without knowing people had actually died using it–it is rusty, metallic and almost V-shaped. I do not recommend it.). You can also impress everyone by doing some stupid dangerous stunt without remembering that the nearest hospital is hours away.
Finally, you round up your friends if bucket number five did not convince you to float on to check if the “last bar” sign actually meant it, and painfully walk back to the village on jagged rocks holding your much-heavier tube now that you are tired and probably smashed. You shower, change, eat, rest… and chances are you will do it all again the following day.
