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Identity Crisis - Part 2

Terence and Philip were back. Adam was back. And most importantly, I was back. I was feeling a hell of a lot better for my convalescence. Furthermore, the boys told me that Anjuna was not that great... ok if you wanted to "trance" all night long but perhaps the antithesis of the chilled out vibe of Palolem beach?

It was Saturday and that could only mean one thing... time to let loose and have some fun. We convened at Cuba and the boys sat down for some breezers. We were like the (G)A(Y)-Team...

Adam was Hannibal, the man with a plan, the brains of the outfit.

Morgan was Howlin' Mad Murdock, he might look sane but could flip out and be freaky in a nanosecond.

Duncan was Face, his boyish good looks able to charm anyone and his trusty guitar to batter anyone he couldn't charm

And then there was me... well it had to be didn't it... I was ABee Barcardi-ass (sorry... not the greatest pun I have ever written but I am tired and not in the mood, darling). The meathead and sociopathic alcoholic of the gang.

So there we were, soldiers of fortune, all boozed up and nowhere to Goa. We all felt a little deflated and I think it was Adam who identified what the ailment was... we were bored of our own company! We needed a plan and Hannibal came to the rescue. We had to meet new people but the hitch was that 3 of us were sadly deficient went it came to people skills. I had only just started communicating meaningfully with garden tools and single-celled organisms and Terence and Philip were essentially one of the above lifeforms.

So it was down to Adam... and he rose to the challenge admirably. Because we had asked him to make new friends for us (because we were too embarrassed) he was able to talk to new people without shame or discomfiture - although I believe the man is able to do that anyway - and soon he was talking to an array of people.

I continued to sit with Terence and Philip in awe of my friend's easy manner and my inability to do likewise. After a few minutes Adam looked over at me with a wide grin, which I believe was saying, "Abi, I have just found us some new friends" and actually said, "Abi? Why don't you come here?"

It was at this point that I would like to invoke the phrase - said in a strong Southern twang - "Shee-it Son! I'm uh dan-sin fool!". This phrase was uttered by a travelling companion Adam had made by the name of Chris. I had only vaguely met him during my first moments in Goa and not since... but the phrase often made us laugh and I promised Adam that I would find a place for it somewhere.

Anyhow, like the aforementioned dancing fool I blundered over and introduced myself to our new pals. There was Sven, Dan, Rick, Gemma, Emma, Lea and Andy eventually after many different comings and goings.

Sven obviously was a Kiwi and spent most of his time - ie while he was awake - stoned. This meant he was incomprehensible as his brain had trouble understanding itself. Which was probably a good thing as when I did understand him he often regaled me with stories which involved variations of some "c#$t" which he took exception to and then hit with a bottle or other large, heavy object to hand.

Dan/Butter Dan/Nemesis. Dan was in his early 30s from England and worked in "marketing". He didn't actually explain what he did as if saying "marketing" would be enough for us all to fall to our knees and worship him. For all I knew he could have worked on a market stall selling 'marrows and 'cumbers... but I knew he didn't.

He was too smarmy. Too smug. Too practiced and greasy. In fact he was as buttery as a butter nan... and lo it came to pass that I named him, Butter Dan. In fact I even created a song for him which went to the tune of Country Road by John Denver. God! I really f#$king hated that guy and often daydreamed of ways in which I could cruelly torture him. I believe that he had made his simpering prescence known to me a little before this night but like a bad smell he refused to go away. Butter Dan was apparently involved in a massage course with Yoshi or Ram Shree Guru or whatever. More likely it was with two Indian bumchums, Ramit and Jamit.

But it was ok. There were enough other people to talk with to deflect my need to spend time with him too much. Gemma, Emma, Lea and Andy were all travelling together. Gemma was Emma's best friend, Emma was sister of Andy, Andy was boyfriend of Lea and Lea was Danish. And Rick was an Aussie guy who they had befriended who was about as faithful to his girlfriend as Jude Law. Got that?

They were great fun for me to be with because they were British (even Lea was essentially an honourary Brit!) and I was able to hang out with people from dear ol' Blighty. After we were all thoroughly acquainted with each other and Mr. Breezer it was suggested that we move onto the regular party that was held at the Laughing Buddha each Saturday, at the other end of the beach.

The venue was "cool" and "funky" and I wondered why I didn't hear Lemon Jelly play on loop while I was there. I did, however, learn that smoke is sentient and somewhat mischievous. There were several fires blazing in permanent pits in the sand and raw smoke billowed out into the night sky. The problem was that the smoke decided to do its billowing right in my face. When I moved it did. There was no appreciable breeze to alter its course in my direction and yet the stuff just kept following me around. After some experimentation I found that the only way I didn't choke within 3 seconds of sitting near the fire was to sit near the fire 20ft away.

Everyone was in high spirits and it was great to see people laughing and joking so freely. Even Butter Dan's attempts to massage everyone as long as they were female and it was their breasts did little to dampen the night. He even asked me if wanted my face massaged at one point to which I sternly replied, "No".

We finally left and made our way to Del Mar/home. This essentially involved running along the beach very fast, holding hands, not holding hands, falling over, not falling over, getting wet, not getting wet, being very silly, not... no... being very silly.

Many drinks passed and people passed out or left or did both. At some point I remember going out of Del Mar onto the beach to meet another friend of Adam's called Johan. He was Swedish and from what he was saying, very horny. It was the first time I had met Johan and he seemed a bit of an idiot to me... but then if you had drunk a good part of a litre of vodka and smoked a chillum you would probably be an idiot too.

All Johan could talk about was how horny he was, how horny Swedish girls were and pretty much how horny everything was and how horny it made him. I was ready to dismiss this guy as a complete fool when one thing stopped me. Butter Dan turned to Adam and sneered with utter disdain, "Where did you find this guy?"

If Butter Dan didn't like him then we had to be friends.

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