I tossed the coin, heads, it would be Vang Tau, tails, it would be Kampong Cham.
'Why not both venues,' said DJ JG.
I personally preferred running the gauntlet of the Killing Fields.
And they weren't in Phnom Penh.
My senses detected them where the parrot beak begins.
'They are all over the fucking place,' said Max, 'how else do you kill half the population.'
I suppose they had to be buried somewhere.
But that French airport looked appealing.
'It was a fucking US airfield.'
Couldn't have been Max, the US wasn't supposed to be in Cambodia.
And if they were in Cambodia, you wouldn't have the killing spree under Pol Pot.
I could tell that the hard-hatted DJ was keen on Vang Tau.
'Never been to Nam, but I heard a thing or two about the Ho Chi Minh Trail.'
Well fuck the coin, I said and within two hours of solid driving, we were on the South East Coast of Nam, among sandy beaches and girlie bars.
