Our tour guide warned us: "Don't go out during Holi. It's chaos." So naturally, I took that as a personal dare.

After MUCH convincing, he finally gave in and crammed us into "licensed" tuk tuks. I was with a couple from Philly. I figured they got this; they live in the city.

We hit the road and were instantly in a technicolor tornado of powdered dye, shouting, music, and what I can only describe as joyful anarchy. Drunk men danced like Bollywood extras on fast-forward. Colors flew through the air like confetti at a unicorn's birthday party.

Our tuk tuk driver? He was channeling Fast & Furious: Holi Drift. Swerving through crowds, dodging cows, and honking like it was a competitive sport. Then he stopped. Not for traffic. Not for a sacred cow. But for a shot. He took one. Then handed us some. Because nothing says "responsible tourism" like homemade whiskey in a moving three-wheeled vehicle. But hey… we did buy local!

A tuk tuk came screaming through the traffic circle….on its SIDE. No one flinched. The drivers high-fived like it was part of the itinerary. I got slapped in the face with a fistful of neon pink by a man who looked like he hadn't slept since Diwali. By now Philly was trying to Google "how to escape a tuk tuk politely." But would I Do It Again? Hell. Yes.

Because if you haven't been mildly tipsy, color-bombed, and spiritually reborn in a tuk tuk during Holi, have you even lived?

And by the way, the driver? Not his tuk tuk. He took his cousin's because he was shitcanned before noon to make some extra Holi dollars.

Holi: come for the color, stay for the chaos and leave screaming hell yeah!