The Russian mafia had a gun pointed at the owner. Trouble is usually found when I get feisty at a bar, not innocently laying in silky pajamas (actually tradional Thai clothing for massages) receiving a massage in Phuket. He bellowed, “I give you money! You give me disrespect!”

The girl giving me the massage motioned me to follow, crawling toward the back of the establishment. As Mr. Mafia’s attention ventured to expose spectators, the gal quietly removed a large Buddha painting, reveling a hidden door. I channeled Alice in Wonderland and climbed to safety, as the fuming Russian and his gun commenced the search for witnesses.