3-Legged Man

Learning from our recently failed challenge to speak in a made-up language, which we thought best to complete on an otherwise boring day, we decided that this one should be part of an already fun-packed excursion. After all, who wants to read about two people sitting on a coach tied together? Therefore, we picked our moment in Vang Vieng: a town famed for tubing, where people rent rubber rings to float downriver whilst various bar-staff pull the tubers onto their premises, to buy drinks and take part in drunken party games. As you can imagine, stumbling around in a rubber ring whilst tiddly is hard at the best of times, never mind when you’re tied together.

Before we began, we wanted to clear something up with our challengers. Originally, David and Lucy suggested we spent “two days and a night handcuffed together.” Pedantic though it may seem, we needed to make sure literal handcuffs weren’t required (travelling for a year with hand-luggage alone doesn’t allow for such extravagances). More crucially, however, we thought that two days and a night sounded too awful, even for Year of the Challenge. After all, going for number twos whilst tied to your fiancé doesn’t exactly bode well for your romantic futures together. Fortunately, David and Lucy conceded on both fronts and wished us well for our day ahead.

Having some foresight, we packed the night before, bringing our GoPro, some money and (yes mum, never fear) my trusty Factor 50+ and sunglasses in a waterproof bag. We also considered any problems we might face, such as getting changed whilst tied together. For this, Jonny ingeniously suggested we brought a spare tie, so that we might use it to get in and out of clothing without having to come apart (we would pull our clothes as far as they would go, use the spare tie to bind us above the problematic garment before untying the original bind, et voila). We also decided that the day would only begin when both of us had woken up at a reasonable time in the morning, so that any post-12am ablutions could be done in peace. We hoped all this preparation would allow for a smooth beginning to an otherwise hectic day.

Upon waking up, we were disgruntled to remember that one of our other, ongoing challenges required us to complete a morning exercise routine. Fixing our binds, we made a valiant effort to complete our situps and V-sits, but were stumped (both figuratively and literally, with each other’s elbows) when it came to doing bicycle kicks.

We decided that our day ahead was going to be exhausting enough without completing the routine, and that our pathetic attempt would have to do. After that, we donned our clothes in the manner outlined above, grabbed our day-bag and head out of the hut, hoping not to return until the evening. After all, it wasn’t as if we could easily “pop back”.

Two hours later, 30 minutes of which it had taken to hobble a distance usually covered in under 10, we were back in the hut. We had spoken to a waiter over breakfast who told us that the best tubing company would insist on a deposit, meaning the money we had brought with us would not be enough for an appropriately debaucherous day tubing. Stumbling back barefoot over gravel, stones and a splintering bridge was unpleasant to say the least, and painfully slow, but our spirits were still high. It was at this point, however, that one Laotian decided it would be particularly funny to try and push us over. We were used to pointing and staring (fair enough, we did look ridiculous) but were less amused to find ourselves at the mercy of someone with full control over his own limbs, rocking us backwards and forwards like one of those weighted children’s toys that always finds itself the right way up. He was guffawing away whilst we signed for him to stop, lest - unlike the toy - we found ourselves flat on our faces. Eventually he backed off, seeming slightly affronted that we didn’t want to be pawns in his hilarious game.

Half an hour and a half a million kip later, we were back in town, ready to begin our adventures in earnest. We had already enjoyed a slap-up breakfast (taking it in turn to use our joint hand - which we nicknamed “hook” - to cut up our food) and our stomachs were now well-lined to manage the mystery booze being offered in river bars. We signed our lives away with the tubing company and met a good bunch of fellow-tourists who thought the three-legged tubing plan was fantastic. Unfortunately, the tubing manager was less pleased and demanded that we got untied. Despite much imploring, both from us and fellow tubers, he was adament that we could not tube tied together on his watch, suggesting we tried it tomorrow instead (proving he was less concerned about our safety than his accountability over it). We hope, David and Lucy, you can forgive us for taking our binds off for the brief journey to the river, if only so we could re-bind and complete the challenge when we were dropped off.

And that is precisely what we did. The tuk-tuk dropped us off 20 metres from the shore, and the way ahead was littered with painful stones. It was oh-so tempting to continue for this short distance untied (as hobbling barefoot over the terrain looked to be awful) but we didn’t think this was in the spirit of the challenge.

Once more tied together, this time with two large rubber rings to carry besides, we made our way to the riverfront, excruciatingly slowly. That first cocktail bucket couldn’t come soon enough! At the water’s edge, we plonked ourselves in the ring, happy to have our feet up, and began winding our way downstream.

Round the first bend, a bar came into view. As promised, barstaff were in the water, chucking bottles on string our way so they could catch and haul us in. It seemed we were part of some twisted fairground game, where instead of hooking ducks to win prizes, they were pulling in as many tourists as possible to earn commission. Our man seemed particularly excited to be hauling 2 ducks in one go; I wonder if that earned him an oversized stuffed toy? More likely, a free shot of Wrestler wine.

Jonny had already been tubing years before, when the scene was seemingly much more manic (the Laos government was forced to tone it down as so many tourists were dying in the river each year after drinking too much and passing out in the heat). He remembered when the riverfront was teeming with 20 or so bars, each offering swings, games and nonsenses galore. Therefore, when we heard that only 2 bars were to be open on our day, we worried the experience would be anticlimactic. We were glad, therefore, when the first bar seemed full of life, offering party games and sporting opportunities such as volleyball and musical tubes: perfect for testing our agility as a three-legged man.

Indeed, after consuming a bucket claiming to be a pina colada, we were in a ripe old mood for trying out some challenging activities and, together with the group we met on the tuk-tuk over, we headed towards the volleyball court.

Now, being dyspraxic and a rather flimsy-wristed one at that, volleyball was never a particular talent of mine, so I wondered whether I would fare better or worse attached to a comparatively able-bodied boy. The result, you may have guessed, was worse. We were crap. Actually, Jonny showed signs of being able at the sport, leaping hither and thither in attempts to slam the ball over the net, but with the human embodiment of a dead fish attached to his left side, his efforts amounted to little more than one ball over the net. Rather than being disheartened at this, however, our team was wonderfully supportive, and we began to feel like some sort of shit but beloved team mascot.

Our valiant efforts were interrupted by a call from nature, thankfully for both of us. We had prepared for this situation in ways I shan’t explain on a blog, but it is safe to say that we managed to wee with surprising skill and lack of backsplash, considering our situation. Leaving the toilet proved more interesting, as the queue behind us seemed to think we had either been doing drugs or having sex in the toilet - why else would two people come out at the same time? - and had a little trouble understanding the whole 3-legged concept (but why would you do this? You have some coke, yes, I buy? Oh you tied together… so no coke, sex yes?) We gave up trying to explain and instead headed to the bar to ask for a pen. Tattooing Jonny’s chest with ‘Year of the Challenge . com’ would suffice for an explanation from there on in.

Our bladders sufficiently empty, we head to the bar for some more booze and got sucked into a game of musical tubes on the way. We were excited to play as we felt that our poor balance would be more than made up for by the fact that - as a 3-legged being - we were a physical force to be reckoned with. After a few rounds, we surmised, people would be too scared to go near us, worried they would get flattened. Alas, we did not get past round one to test this theory. We were unfairly stripped of our ring after one sore loser sat atop us and claimed she had been in the ring first (no, lady, if you’re on top of us, that proves you came second). The barstaff settled matters with rock, paper, scissors - which we unduly lost - and whilst little miss cheatypants swayed her hips to Laos’ version of the Macarena, we were sent to the sidelines for a consolatory shot of fire whisky. No, readers, we aren’t bitter at all… and nor did we watch the rest of the game, silently cheering when she got knocked out in the penultimate round.

After a couple of hours, it was time to head back into the river. As it is dry-season in Laos, the current is particularly slow and we took an age to go even a few metres. As such, when we saw a fleet of kayaks manned by Chinese tourists flash past, we decided try our luck at the tubing version of hitch-hiking.

Most were simply amused and carried on past, taking photos of the stagnating English tourists strapped together in rubber rings, but one generous-spirited crew pulled over and allowed us to hold onto the back of their boats. We flew along! Passing other tubers at a rate of knots, we quickly asked one to take a few photos on our GoPro. He willingly obliged but, when we were pulled into bar number two, we were bemused to see him taking a video of his own experiences instead of ours, and somewhat disheartened when he returned our GoPro, without any photos hitherto taken (which is why, I’m afraid, we have included hardly any original shots of our amusing antics that day).

Any disappointment caused by our failed GoPro was sidelined when we waddled our way into the second bar, which offered less games, pricier and worse cocktails, but a heaving dance floor out in the sunshine. We can’t remember much of our experiences here, other than to say - after our enthusiastic dancing - I’m certain 3-legged twerking is set to be the next big thing in Laos. You read it here first.

With the sun now setting, we made our way downstream for the final time. Although we had initially planned to float all the way back, we were cold and slow, so decided to heave ourselves in and order a tuk-tuk back into town. After returning our rings, we hobbled towards the Irish bar for some much needed dinner. However, upon arriving we decided the scene wasn’t for us. Leaving proved a mistake. We had spent most of the day with little reason to walk great distances and had forgotten how difficult it was. Our shared leg - nicknamed peg - was cramping and sore, and we were beginning to get hangry. A falafel house saved us from getting too ratty and, with food settling our tummies and our moods, we laughed about the day’s silliness and what fun it had all been.

One more walk home and finally we were back in our hut. Re-energised, we kept ourselves tied together in the shower and, upon changing our binds, in bed as well, considering it a possibility that we may be able to manage 2 days and a night after all.

It had been a brilliant, albeit occasionally painful day, and our only regret was not having many photos to share with you all. We went to bed content in our clean new binds, but didn’t feel too disappointed when we woke up untied, enjoying our separate halves of the bed. Thanks, David and Lucy, for your challenge… perhaps you’d like to give it a go too!