Traveling to Thailand on a budget?

My wonderful wife Miranda actually lived in Thailand for a short time right after she finished her undergraduate degree. She was on a tiny piece of turf called Kho Phi Phi, a land solely reserved for the sinister drunk and the crazy young.

That was some 10 years ago -- she coincidentally left a day before the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami devastated the region -- and during our frequent bucket-list travel conversations, she had always mentioned she would like to go back for a visit.

The anniversary of her birth had been coming up so I put two and two together and then booked a flight to Phuket. Happy Birthday, baby!

My favorite airline of all time, Etihad Airways, just launched daily non-stop flights to Phuket so before you could say 'free champagne' we were packing our bags.

The flight was only six hours from Abu Dhabi, so it was more than enough time to get drunk, take a nap and wake up with a hangover -- all before our plane touched down in another continent.

And for you folks who are reading this because you are contemplating a move to the UAE, know this: Thailand is just one of the many countless travel destinations literally at your fingertips while living here. I had already pulled out my credit card and clicked the 'submit' button before I gave it a second thought. And for good reason...

On Kho Phi Phi, we danced our faces off, partied until dawn and lived like rockstars. The first two nights, we stayed at the Maney Resort, a cheap shanty spot that cost only $13 a night and had a laundry list of bad reviews on TripAdvisor.

But we liked it.

Basically, you get what you pay for. People should know that before they get on TripAdvisor and complain about the number of steps before the registration desk or if the staff does not wear a wide smile on their faces 24 hours a day. C'mon dude, get a life.

Manley was a backpacker paradise, where warm Thai soup for breakfast was a welcome attempt at nutrition and the roosters crowing in the morning numbed your hungover soul.

But after many years of traveling and realizing that we are not in college anymore, Miranda booked us a stay at the five-star luxury Zeavola Resort & Spa for the next two days. It was a short boat ride away and was on the opposite side of the Kho Phi Phi social spectrum.

Less than 10 hours after waking up with a stiff neck on a glorified futon in a sweaty room at Manley, Miranda and I were comfortably laying on our stomachs, listening to Enya and enjoying a Thai couples massage while perched on top of a luxury tree fort overlooking the Zeavola resort.

After you turn 30, you pick up on a lot of things. One of them is how to travel. I know everyone has their own specific way of doing it and certain budgets allotted for it. But for us, we love to rough it and then add some some luxury in at the end. Because the sweet is never as sweet without a little sour thrown in there first.

Our trip to Thailand was one for the books. On the flight home, we already started to discuss when and where our next vacation excursion would take us.

Such is the behavior of a travel addict. Counting down the days until we get our next fix.

Fortunately, there is no rehab for our beautiful affliction. With enablers like Thailand, India, Europe, Africa and Etihad flirting with our daily emotions, it is really damn hard not to pull out that credit card and click the 'submit' button again.

Where would you like to go today?

Wheelchair success: Etihad Airlines to the rescue!

So it was less than 24 hours after I had completed the Dubai Marathon and as you can imagine, I was walking around the streets of Abu Dhabi like a wounded 90-year-old man in some sort of exhausted haze.

I wasn't in real pain. Just sore. Very, very sore. Even my ass hurt.

Everything seems to fall apart when you run 26.2 miles. First you get that uncomfortable sensation in your knees, then your ankles. Soon it feels like there are little rocks inside your shoes but no, that's just the painful blisters forming on the bottom of your feet.

Next up is the hamstrings, the quads, your lower back and then my forearms even started to burn. Don't forget the mental demons that haunt you from Mile 15 and beyond.

What the hell am I doing?

After all that, I finished the race and there was actually a light at the end of the tunnel. And that motivational ray of sunshine was a trip to glorious Thailand.

Have you ever been in an international airport and randomly ran into someone you knew? A friend from town, a previous lover or an old war buddy??

That happened to me within the first 10 minutes after we landed in Phuket. It was an old friend Jessica, who I had not really seen since college. She had been traveling with friends and she saw me from afar while she waited in the customs line.

When she recognized me, she actually pulled a confused double-take because I was being pushed around the airport in a wheelchair by a very nice Etihad Airways employee.

Yes, I am guilty. I took advantage of a service that is reserved for people in need. But you should have saw me: I was not in a good place. I needed some assistance and Etihad, as faithful as ever, had my back.

GOOD THINGS ABOUT RIDING A WHEELCHAIR IN THE AIRPORT:

- You don't have to walk
- The good people at Etihad do not ask questions
- You don't have to wait in customs or security check lines
- An Etihad employee was waiting at my destination with another wheelchair

BAD THING ABOUT RIDING A WHEELCHAIR IN THE AIRPORT:

- Everyone stares at you: "Alright, what's wrong with this bastard?"

I wanted to scream, "I just ran a marathon! My bones are old and tired..." Seriously, my very slow movements would have been a hindrance on the collective group of travelers at the airport that day. I was looking out for everyone else. I really believe that. Oh, the humanity!

Nah. Who am I kidding? It was kind of messed up. And if we had not been running a little late for our flight to Thailand, the request would not have been made. But I'm glad I did it.

And I think Jessica changed her opinion when I triumphantly emerged from the iron clutches of the almighty airport wheelchair for just enough time to snap a picture...

Other people from my flight, who were standing near the baggage claim, saw me stand up and a few harsh stares were thrown my way. It was not my finest hour.

But it was OK. My recovery -- physical and emotional -- was actually pretty fast. It only took another day or two before my legs started to work again and by then, I was just another tourist exploring the depths of Thailand. Just like you -- without a wheelchair.

Dubai Marathon kicked my ass

I ran my first marathon in 2010.

It was in San Diego as the course took runners through quaint public parks, around metropolitan stadiums and concert venues and then zigzagged through the downtown area, where it ended at a water park just outside of the city.

I documented all the shenanigans for the Virgin Islands Daily News

It was a 'Rock N Roll marathon', which meant there was a different musical act set up at each mile marker to keep runners entertained and energized. Live bands, DJs, performers and they even had a little girl playing the violin.

The Dubai Marathon had none of that.

Listen, I don't want to be one of those people that writes a bad review about an event on some blog just because he was grossly unsatisfied by the final product. Who really reads blogs anyway?

But in all seriousness, the course for the Dubai Marathon is essentially a point and back route, which means you basically run straight down a road for about 12 miles, turn around and then run back down that very same road. Yawn...

There was no music. There was no cheering.

Just a steady score of gawking day laborers, who loved to record all the action on their circa 1998 mobile phones as the sun came up on another day in Dubai.

Full disclosure: I was not a Top 10 finisher. Not even close. This race kicked my ass.

It took me more than five hours to complete the 42.2-kilometre (26.2 mile) run. But by the time I crossed the line, believe it or not: there was no water left for the runners. I even walked into the medical tent in search of some fluids. Still, no dice.

I'm sorry but it was just a pretty poorly-run event. The execution was not there.

Luckily, I had a great support staff with me. My wife Miranda was the best cheerleader in the city that day; my friend Anique was a solider and ran with me for the first half of the race; and my brother-in-law Kyle was the photographer.

Together, they provided a huge lift for me. More than they will ever know. On top of that, they took me to McDonald's after the race.

So after a full morning of running punishment on the asphalt of Dubai, it felt good to head back to Abu Dhabi. After all, I had bigger fish to fry. Less than 24 hours after crossing the marathon finish line, I found myself in the Abu Dhabi International Airport about to board a plane for Thailand.

Indeed, no rest for the weary...