Hangovers and boats are uneasy bedfellows but the wedding I had travelled to the isolated island of Koh Lipe in Thailand's southern-most province for had come to a close and I had to get myself to Bangkok immediately or risk missing the start of the legendary Songkran festival that throws the capital into a frenzy of drunken waterfights for three days every April. Thailand's population mobilises ahead of the celebrations with some returning to their provincial homes to mark the event with families while others hit the capital to mark Songkran where it is at its manic best. This year however, there was a significant increase in the number of people barrelling down the motorways from the impoverished Issarn Province in the northeast to Bangkok – and this year they had a very different agenda to the rest of the revelers.

A string of 'yellow shirt' protests ousted a series of prime ministers allied to former Manchester City FC owner Thaksin Shinawatra last year amid claims of corruption. Abhisit Vejjajiva was eventually installed but Thaksin remained popular in the the heavily populated rice bowl province of Issarn and his supporters, clad in red, chose Songkran 2009 as their time to bring one of theirs back to the PM's chair.

I started to come across pieces of information that hinted that a storm might be brewing – groups of red-clad protesters pilling out of a 7-11 with bags of beer and whiskey before jumping onto schools of flatback trucks and heading towards the city centre and brief mentions of clashes with police on BBC World Service. I however, was in holiday mode and was primarily concerned with what type of watergun would leave us best equipped to defend ourselves from water balloon attack by the Thais who would choose to party through the turmoil. On the second night of the festival however, matters worsened as reports came in that the army were on the streets and had opened fire on protesters who had taken to hijacking and burning out vehicles.

A friend of mine from back home who has lived in Bangkok for the past four years emailed me to say that the protesters had taken over the main intersection in the city which his apartment was right next too. Rather than huddle indoors however, Chris decided to go and check out what the fuss was about. He excitably informed me over the phone that he ended up having to hit the deck as a burning bus came hurtling towards a group of soldiers who responded by spraying it with bullets. The vehicle, which was being driven by a brick on the accelerator, eventually came to a stop when it crashed into an electricity post which called a small fire and a localised blackout.

That night we headed to the backpacker Mecca of Koh San Road, a couple of miles from the centre of the city. After a few hours of drinking, partying, dousing random strangers with water and general merriment, we grabbed a taxi towards home. Less than five minutes into the journey the car was locked up in traffic caused by a large group of masked protesters who had torched several more buses. They were in the middle of a tense stand off with nervy looking teenage soldiers and the thought that they might turn their frustrations onto the passing farangs crossed my mind. Happily, we were eventually waved on our way.

The Thais are having a tough year and the smiles were not as quick to flash across their faces as I remembered. That said, the problems there at the moment are very much a domestic and foreigners who keep their heads down are not likely to be dragged into it. The Thais are fully aware of how rapidly the number of people with the cash to go on holidays is shrinking right now and how a tourist getting the slaps for stumbling into a protest would reduce their share of the cake. I half wanted to stick on my journalist hat and get stuck into the middle of things, but I decided against it. Partly because I didn't want to be playing a part in sending negative images and reports around the world about a country that has given me so much. Mainly though, because I was on holiday and my beers were not about to drink themselves.