The $500 Bar Tab: How Sihanoukville’s ‘Free Shots’ Became the Most Expensive Night of My Life

A “Free” Shot That Cost Me Everything

Let me start by saying I consider myself a fairly seasoned traveler. I’ve dodged overpriced tuk-tuk rides, avoided fake gem scams, and even successfully haggled with a Bangkok street vendor who tried to charge me $10 for a bottle of water.

But nothing—NOTHING—prepared me for the financial hurricane that was “free shots” night in Sihanoukville.

What started as an innocent evening turned into a $500 disaster, a walk of shame to an ATM at 3 AM, and the unofficial title of “that dumb foreigner” at every bar on Serendipity Beach.

The Setup: Just Another Night Out

I had just arrived in Sihanoukville, sweaty and slightly sunburned, looking forward to a wild beach party experience that everyone raved about.

After checking into my guesthouse, I threw on my best “I’m totally not a clueless tourist” outfit (a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts), and ventured out to the famous Serendipity Beach bars.

That’s where I met Johnny, a semi-permanently drunk British backpacker, and Vuthy, a smooth-talking Cambodian guy who claimed to “know all the best spots.”

“You gotta try this place,” Johnny slurred, pointing to a neon-lit bar. “First shot’s free.”

Now, at this point, I should’ve stopped and thought, Wait a second. Why would any business just give out free alcohol?

But did I? No. I followed them inside like a lamb to financial slaughter.

The “Free” Shot That Ruined My Wallet

As soon as we stepped in, the bartender, a buff dude with the energy of someone who has thrown tourists out before, handed us each a shot.

“Welcome to Sihanoukville, my friend!” Vuthy cheered.

I took the shot. It tasted like gasoline mixed with regret, but it was free, so I didn’t complain.

Then came another. And another.

I was having a good time until she walked in.

Enter: Sopha, the Destroyer of Wallets

Sopha was the kind of girl who could get a man to sign over the deed to his house with just a smile.

She slid into the seat next to me and leaned in, close enough that I suddenly forgot what money even was.

“You buy me drink?” she purred, tilting her head in a way that made my beer goggles go into overdrive.

I should’ve said no.
I should’ve pretended I didn’t speak English.
I should’ve run straight back to my guesthouse and locked the door.

But instead, I looked into her eyes and said, “Of course!”

One drink turned into two. Then four. Then six.

Then Sopha’s “cousins” showed up, all equally charming and all equally thirsty.

“Another round?” Sopha asked sweetly.

At this point, my brain was 75% alcohol and 25% terrible decision-making skills, so I just nodded.

The Bill From Hell

A few hours later, my beer buzz started fading, and I realized something strange!

Sopha was gone.
Her cousins were gone.
Johnny? Completely vanished.
Vuthy? Nowhere to be seen.

I was alone at the bar, blinking in confusion as the bartender handed me a small piece of paper.

I squinted at it.

Total: $500.

I laughed. Surely this was a joke.

“Nice one, mate,” I chuckled. “Where’s the real bill?”

The bartender didn’t laugh.

“This your bill,” he said, voice as cold as my bank account was about to be.

“How the hell did I drink $500 worth of alcohol?” I asked.

“You drink. Girls drink. You order special shots,” he shrugged. “Very expensive.”

I looked around for backup, but no one came to my rescue.

The bar’s two security guys who looked like they could bend me in half suddenly stepped closer.

“You pay now,” the bartender said. “Or we have problem.”

The ATM Walk of Shame

I frantically checked my wallet. I had $80 in cash.

“Uhh… can I, um, pay tomorrow?” I tried.

The bartender smirked. “No. You pay now.”

A large hand clamped down on my shoulder. “ATM outside,” the security guy grunted.

So there I was a grown man, being escorted like a kindergarten student on a field trip stumbling toward an ATM in the middle of the night.

I punched in my PIN and watched $500 disappear into the void.

It physically hurt.

The Aftermath: My Wallet’s Funeral

After paying my financial death sentence, I wandered back to my guesthouse, replaying every bad decision in my head.

Johnny? Probably at another bar, laughing at some other idiot.
Vuthy? Off scamming his next victim.
Sopha? Spending my money on drinks for her next target.

And me? Broke, betrayed, and completely sober.

Lessons Learned (Too Late)

Nothing is free in Sihanoukville. NOTHING.
If a girl asks you to buy her a drink five minutes after meeting you, RUN.
“Cousins” are never cousins. They are partners in crime.
If someone disappears right before the bill comes, you’re the one paying it.
When in doubt, always pregame at 7-Eleven.

So, my dear fellow travelers, if you’re ever in Sihanoukville and someone offers you a free shot, just remember That shot might be free, but your dignity won’t be.