Page 34 - Nomads Magazine Issue 7

The sound of the dirt bike became much louder very quickly and soon the bike was riding along the right hand side us. On the bike, there were two guys. One guy was driving quite dangerously trying to get us to stop and the other guy was shouting aggressively while brandishing a well used AK47.We immediately pulled over. At that point, my mind went blank and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up and my palms became very sweaty. For some rea- son, everything slowed down and all I could hear was the sound of crickets and the wild- life in the background, despite the shouting angry man pointing a loaded rearm at us.Po got out of the tuktuk slowly and approached the two men who were now standing and pointing to me on the back seat. After a few minutes, Po started up the tuktuk and explained that the guy he knew wasn’t there and that type of reception was merely a safety precaution. We continued down the dirt track where I was escorted to a corner of the hangar that had a crude makeshift kitchen and lounge lled with old sofas, a table and a few chairs.This kitchen and lounge were unlike any I had ever seen, where most people have photos of family or certi cates of achieve- ments. This living space had a vast arse- nal of weapons expertly mounted on the walls. They were serious weapons, the type you only see on the news or in Grand Theft Auto; rocket launchers, mortars, the infamous Mini-Gun from Terminatior 2 and a varied selection of machine guns and high calibre pistols.Great, I thought. I had to pick the one place that takes this sort of activity to the limits. While I was taking in the surroundings, one of the men from the welcome committee presented a crudely written list of the weap- ons and the prices to use various items from their arsenal. Prices started from $400 for a handgun, going up to rocket launchers and miniguns for $1,000.I was a little unnerved that the list was hast- ily scribbled a few moments earlier, a clue given away by the ink smudging. The guy that presented the list to me, slammed his Beretta onto the table in front of me, and in broken English, told me, “You tourist, you pay”.This situation became very real very quick- ly so I played the stupid tourist card and showed him my nearly empty wallet con- taining only a few crumpled $20 bills. I ex- plained to him that I had no idea it would be so expensive and this was all the money I had with me because I spent the rest on the Angkor trails.This explanation bought me about two min- utes of time before a senior member of their group walked over to me and sternly asked me which of the weapons I would like to try. I explained again about the lack of funds, then the group of men turned their attention to Po. He was ushered inside, into the corner. The shouting started with pushing going on between the men, which quickly escalated to punching and kicking. Then without hesita- tion one of the guys lifted the Beretta off the table and casually icked the safety off.33