An entire nation of sixty-seven million people wakes up one April morning and all together ceases to give a damn if they are rich, poor, old, young, happy or sad.
They load up their water guns, fill up their buckets, put on their tacky Hawaiian shirts and walk out the door, leaving all their inhibitions behind.
They become children again.
It’s called Songkran, Year 2558—the Thai New Year—and it is The Biggest Water Fight In The Universe.
For a few days—in some places, a whole week—every block of street and every bar, restaurant or public space is completely taken over by people whose only mission is to soak you to the bone and smear your face with strange, colorful paste.
As you weave in and out of the backstreets, giant buckets of icy-cold water are dumped on you with absolutely no warning. You can walk up to a total stranger, splash their face point-blank and get nothing in return but a retaliatory splash and a heart-overflowing laugh.
Smiling and dancing old ladies shoot you in the eyes with water guns too heavy for them to hold. Pig-tailed little girls machine-gun passerbys with a water hose, Rambo style. Pickup trucks packed with drunken teenagers cruise around blasting hip-hop, soaking anyone who looks a little too dry. And no one is safe from the water… even police officers and military men are subject to a good drenching, and no matter how hard they try to suffocate their smiles or laughter, it always bubbles out full and unrestrained.
Everyone is laughing and smiling.
The dancing is everywhere, and it never stops. Massive foam parties pop up in random back alleys and pavilions. Dance clubs are flooded by inches of water and beer, but still the partygoers stomp their feet and swing around their wet hair to an irresistible beat.
The air is electric, the love is unconditional, the happiness is profound.
As it always is in Thailand.