CHECKED IN, CHECKED OUT — Free Gay Travel Novel, No Passport Required

A gay travel novel about bad decisions, good strangers, and one very questionable backpacker-trip.

“He left home to find himself. Then he lost his charger, missed three flights, and ended up sleeping with a bartender who may or may not have stolen his passport.”

Welcome to the emotional rollercoaster of travel — where the sunsets are stunning, the hookups are confusing, and the existential dread is slightly jet-lagged.

Checked In, Checked Out is 206 pages of fast-paced, sexy, and satirical novel that follows Jamie, a twenty-one-year-old backpacker who’s definitely not running from anything (except responsibility). From sweaty hostels and overpriced cocktails to philosophical conversations with men named after tropical fruits, this is a story about chasing meaning in all the wrong places — and maybe finding something better along the way.

Jamie hadn’t meant to flirt with the customs officer.
But the thing about Jamie was that he didn’t mean to do a lot of things.

“Purpose of visit?”
“I’m here to spiritually realign my chakras.”

The man didn’t blink. Didn’t even lift an eyebrow. Just stamped his passport like he was punching a timecard at the world’s least sensual job.

Ten minutes later, Jamie was standing in the arrivals hall of Kuala Lumpur International Airport, sweating through a linen shirt and pretending to know where Borneo was on the map.

Backpack: oversized.
Phone: dead.
Plan: there was never a plan.

And yet, something about it felt right. Like life was finally saying,
Fine. You want chaos? Let’s do chaos properly.

Somewhere between the boarding gate and the bar he’d be crying in later, Jamie would find something worth staying for.
Or someone.
Maybe.

If you’ve ever:

• Cried in an airport bathroom
• Slept with someone whose name you never learned
• Thought you were about to discover your life’s purpose in Thailand, but instead discovered street food-induced diarrhea
  —then this book is for you.

🔓 Free to RABAGAS Members

If you’re a free member of RABAGAS (congrats, that’s most of you), this book is yours.
No catch. No upsell. Just us being generous (and slightly chaotic).

What do you get when a horny backpacker loses his charger, drinks too much at a rooftop bar, and wakes up in Borneo with no idea how he got there?
This book.

Checked In, Checked Out is a sexy, fast-paced gay travel comedy. It’s about that one summer where you swore you’d find yourself and ended up finding... him.

💥 Get the book here:
https://jiw2i0-ew.myshopify.com/cart/43472717643855:1?channel=buy_button

🧡 Are you a free member of RABAGAS? Then just take it. It's on us.

💬 Not a member? No judgment. You can still get the book completely free.
Just use the discount code CHECKED at checkout for a 100% discount.
We won't ask why you needed it. (But we will imagine the drama.)
(The free-code will die on the last day of September)

🧳 Brought to you by the strange minds behind RABAGAS Magazine.
No passport required. Just vibes.

✈️ What to Expect

• Vibes: Think Call Me By Your Name meets Eurotrip with fewer clothes and more sarcasm
• Format: PDF — compatible with most e-readers and emotionally unstable devices
• Price: Free, because late-stage capitalism makes us itchy

🗺️ From the same deranged minds who brought you RABAGAS Magazine:

This is part of our ongoing experiment in publishing without pretense.
We’re not trying to change your life. We just want to make you laugh, maybe turn you on, and remind you that you’re not the only one who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing.

🧳 Checked In, Checked Out
By JTV
A RABAGAS Publication
Download it here | Use code CHECKED if you’re broke, curious, or both.

🔓 MEMBER EXCLUSIVE:

Jamie’s First Night in Borneo (Unabridged excerpt)

The hostel was called something like “Jungle Vibes,” but Jamie quickly realized the only thing jungle about it was the mosquito infestation and one suspiciously decorative bamboo stick duct-taped to the reception desk.

“You booked online?” the guy at the desk asked, not looking up from his phone.
“I don’t really do booking,” Jamie said. “I manifest.”

Ten minutes later, he was assigned a bunk between two Swedish crypto bros and a fan that rotated just enough to make you aware it wasn’t pointed at you.

Downstairs, someone was offering mushroom tea. Someone else was crying on a beanbag.

Jamie accepted both.

It was only when he woke up the next morning, barefoot, covered in mosquito bites, and spooning a Lonely Planet guidebook, that he realized:

He had no idea where his phone was.

Or his passport.

Or the name of the guy he’d made out with behind the hammocks.

But for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t checking the time.