I’m in a funk.
I know my birthday resolution is to act my age but tonight I really can’t be bothered. But there’s no way out of it, tonight on Koh Phangan is the Half Moon Party, pretty much the entire reason we came here. It doesn’t help that Bianca’s incredibly excited, she’s even brought the world’s tiniest pair of red shorts to wear.
At dinner I find my good friend beer Chang, I can always count on him to work me out of a funk.
Before long, us three girls and our resort manager Mr Duck (yes that’s actually his name and when he introduces himself to you he says, “hello I’m Mr Duck as in quack quack”) are having photos on the bar.
Oh dear God, I’ve turned into one of those girls.
It’s here that Bianca’s red shorts catch the attention of this weird guy who everyone’s pretty sure lives on the beach. He approaches, tonight donning a ladies wig and asks, “Wanna see my half moon painting?” Bianca sceptically obliges. Soon after he starts yelling at her when she, without realising, stands on the so-called painting: a squiggle in the sand.
A few false starts later and we finally arrive at the jungle arena around midnight and head straight for the fluoro body painters. Jenny gets a flower chain which goes all the way up her arm and onto her face. Bianca gets a dragon. I somehow end up with a New Zealand flag on my arm and a love heart on my thigh. Great, now it looks like I’m a walking charade for: ‘From New Zealand, looking for love.’
One vodka sprite bucket later and I’m feeling a lot better about the situation. In fact, I actually start to enjoy myself. Who knew I liked trance music.
Now I’m on the dance floor. I’m cutting some sweet shapes. I catch the attention of a cute French guy. His sweet move is to play slap me in the face, followed by a play kick to the ribs. I respond with a sweet shunt across the other side of the dance floor. He looks shocked but seriously what did he think was going to happen?
By the time I extract myself from that situation Bianca’s got her mouth down some English lad’s throat (little does she know he’s 21 and a carrot top). This leaves his less fortunate looking friend in the corner doing the box step to trance music.
Bianca’s mouthing at me, “take the grenade, take the grenade.” If you don’t know what that means it’s from Jersey Shore.
I don’t, but I do make it my mission to teach this poor lad to dance.
“Surely you’ve got a signature move?” I ask.
He’s just stares back at me with a blank look on his face. But suddenly his face lights up and he agrees yes, yes yes he does. Before I get to that I must say, in my opinion, this move is one of the most under-utilised dance moves of our time: the roly poly. Turns out the roly poly is also a gateway move to the handstand and the backwards roll. Too many roly polies later Jenny and I find a quiet corner to sit down in, leaving Bianca to it.
All of a sudden there’s a cute Dutch creative type next to me (I need to be careful here as this boy is the first reader of my blog). I’ll play it cool, although I must say we got off to a rocky start when he paid me this backhanded compliment: “I like your legs, they’re a little on the short side, but I like them.”
We get home as the sun’s coming up and sleep for the rest of the day. When we awake my good friend Pad Thai is there to greet me for breakfast.
I’m in my happy place.