Party Phi Phi, Party

I was naive to think I could avoid the parties and drunken shenanigans of the island. Heck, I even booked myself into a hostel right on the beach! When in Rome, do as the Romans do!

I am not sure why, but I felt nervous AF checking in to the hostel. Like a kid on his first day of school, I had the jitters coming alone to a party island. It would be the first ‘party’ hostel that I would have checked into for a long, long time.

Luckily for me, there was a bright and cheery young traveler to greet me at the hostel – Richelle, from England. All at once I felt at ease, comfortable, in friendly company. She invited me out for drinks in the evening, knowing that I was solo.

I spent the day roaming around the island, which was an easy thirty minute stroll from one side to the other. I came back to the room where young party-goers were getting ready for a night out, yet still I was not in party-mode.

I was anonymous in the shade of night, drinking deeply into my schooner of local brew.

I dragged my sorry ass out of the hostel and planted myself at a bar on the beach. I was anonymous in the shade of night, drinking deeply into my schooner of local brew. A stage was set up with fire twirlers doing their thang, and it was an incredible show to behold. Kids, probably 10 years old, were twirling fire as if they had been doing it for years and years.

Richelle found me in the crowd, pulled me up from the slump I was in and off we went – the beginning of what was to be a night to remember. There were three of us at this point, Richelle, Grace and myself. The sandy beach was the surest way to our destination – Relax Bar.

Its kind of a meeting point bar, a bar for pre-drinking, a bar to mingle. We had a game of Jenga, of course, butterfingers me lost the game in the first couple of rounds!

Drinks, drinks, drinks. Pee, pee, pee. Home.

Next to the bar, like many bars, was a tattoo parlour. Two of their friends were getting ink done the traditional way using a bamboo stick and a hammer. Ouch!

I’m shortening this a lot – but drinks, drinks, drinks. Pee, pee, pee. Home.

Ok, so we headed home. I was not the first in the dorm (yay!), so I didn’t feel like the old codger having an early night before all the youngin’s came home.

Get out of my bed, this is NOT YOUR bed!

At some point in the middle of the night, I heard the trickle of water falling on to the tiled floor. I opened my tired eyes to darkness and could barely make out the silhouette of a person standing up. Intoxicated and sleepy, I dismissed the thought of a man urinating on the floor as imagination – who da eff would seriously piss in the middle of the room? I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

Moments later, I heard the voice of a girl shouting ‘Get out of my bed, this is NOT YOUR bed!’ Red alert, alarm bells ringing in my head – I was ready to save the day and kick this guy’s ass!

In a flash, he was off that girls bed and straight onto mine. WTF! He found a cuddly nook and snuggled in with me. I sat up immediately, telling this weirdo to get off my mo’fo’ bed. “I can’t find my bed” he kept saying – it was rather invasive for him to hop into bed with me like that.

I told him to get out of the room or sleep on the floor – he rolled off my bed in a drunken heap on the tiles.

Relieved, I fell back asleep. But in the morning, there was no trace of him. Nor anyone to validate the events of the night. I shrugged it off as a very strange dream, until I got up to go outside and stepped in a puddle on the way to the door. FML