After bumping and grinding (not to mention drinking like no tomorrow) at the latest Trasher party, Live RCA kicks you out at 1am. You’re obviously still in the mood—and so is half the party. That’s why you’re now forcing your way through a red-lit corridor of sweaty expats and party boys while being shouted at by an angry Chinese man.

Wong’s is the kind of place you swear the morning after you’ll never go back to (the smoky hair, the pounding headache, the person lying next to you). You can forget dancing, too. The place is so tiny everyone’s basically groping one another while trying to reach the serve-yourself fridge. But for some reason—animal magnetism?—you’ll do it all again. And again. And again. Each time followed by the daylight walk of shame to Malaysia Hotel for breakfast.

 

You and your small group of friends decide to have a chill night out on Phra Athit Road. Somewhere you can chat and reminisce over a few casual drinks. Two bottles of Sang Som later, the shutters come down and you’re in no mood for going home. That’s when someone suggests, “Let’s have one more at Mulligan’s.”

You’d think a sit-down Irish bar would be a chat-friendly kind of place. But no. The live band performs hit after Billboard hit at an ear-splitting volume, while all around you backpackers try and get laid. At least some of them do look kind of cute.

 

After waxing nostalgic about high-school nights, you and your friends decide to start at Nunglen. But instead of taking the tasteful option of nearby Do Not Disturb, you complete the throwback vibe with a visit to this late-night Thonglor institution.

Entry still requires your group to open a bottle of whiskey, and at this hour of the night the last thing you need is another bottle of whiskey. There are only ever three possible outcomes: falling down the stairs, crawling onto the stage or both.

 

You go overboard on the self-pour craft beers at Sway and decide to see what’s going down at Funky Villa and Demo. As usual, nothing. You left it too late and now the party’s headed over to the only place still open: Safe House.

No one’s here for the music and everyone’s as desperate as you are. But at least the hip-hop “boiz” in their super-oversized tees, neon sneakers and snapback caps only have eyes for girls dressed head-to-toe in Milin AW’15. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you bump into someone you know from work. And they want you in their drunken group selfie.

 

A guy from school who you never normally hang out with drags you to Soi 11 to watch the football. You spend three hours in Mulligan’s envying the people who got bar stools when finally his group decides to leave. But they’re not going to bed. So you trail them to this expat favorite to numb the tedium with halfa-dozen vodka Red Bulls.

Because Wax does house music. And only house music. Even after the intoxicating blend of caffeine, glucose and alcohol, you spend the night awkwardly in the corner, trying not to look at the people making out all around you.

 

The Go Grrls party got out of hand, but instead of following the riff-raff to Wong’s, you took the sensible option and strolled down to this more-glamorous (by your drunken standards) afterhours spot.

Everyone is way cooler than you, including the people behind the bar. But don’t let the distressed-goth vibe trick you; this is basically Wong’s for people who never leave Thonglor/Ekkamai. You’ll also get way too drunk because the Jameson is priced as if it were Johnnie Red at, well, the exact number depends what the bar staff can remember, but it’s always below B200.