I just skimmed through because I couldn't go through the self-centered observations that probably make up 75-80% of that piece.
In a nutshell, hipster travel blogger is obsessed with taking perfect pictures for social media, doesn't follow rules and sensible consideration for national heritage, gets told off by Cambodian park minders, overly dramatizes the whole incident and makes it all about him, his boyfriend, his feelings and his hipster adventure in post-conflict, exotic Cambodia.
An excerpt (after he and his group had been pulled up by the park guards):
And there are things he describes about the Cambodian characters in his story that made the "BULLSHIT" sign flash in my mind.We walked a good 50 yards in utter silence. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. The sweat would not stop pouring from my head. I was in a country where mass genocide had taken place a few decades ago. I knew nothing about the laws, rules, religion, or punishment, and from the looks on the Germans' faces, neither did they. A memory of Michael Fay came flooding back into my head. He was an American who was caned in Singapore when I was younger for light vandalism and theft. It made international news and caused major tension between America and Singapore. There was an outcry for his release from the American public, but in the end he was sentenced to time in jail and whipping with a wooden cane six times. Was I the next freaking Michael Fay? Would Obama be calling for my release in the rose garden?
I just disgraced a sacred temple. Was that worse than defacing a car? Sure seemed like it might be. Don't mess with religion. A Buddha seems a lot more important than a Beemer around these parts. It may have been the sweltering heat and deafening silence that added fuel to my anxiety, but I was sure sh*t was about to go down.
We came upon another guard who in no way looked friendly. In broken English he asked us who was at the top of the temple. I immediately confessed and made it clear it was not Brandon. I was still hoping that killing them with kindness would save me from one less skin-tearing whip of the cane or maybe provide me with an extra portion of food in prison. The Germans followed my lead one by one, and thankfully they too said Brandon was not involved. The guard gave Brandon his pass back. This was a huge sigh of relief for me. If Brandon was free, he could at least make his way to the American Embassy to get Obama on the line.