Pants-less and penniless in Phuket: the story of how I was robbed

I should have known something wicked was coming. The atmosphere was too perfect, too poetic; I was having too much fun with too many beautiful human beings.

I snorkeled in murky water as we all but drowned in three feet of water, struggling with flippers and goggles. We choked on salt water that snuck in through our breathing tubes, unable to see anything but our hands in front of our faces. My friend and I stole a kayak, making our way out to the open sea to come across the most beautiful, clear water we had ever seen, only to be escorted back by two lifeguards because we had paddled out too far (and because we stole a kayak). The ordeal had me doubled over the entire time. This is a photo of Steve dragging us whales out to sea ... isn't he just the cuteset?

This is proceeded and followed by nights out at insane night clubs where each one of us made it home safe, and, for the most part, okay. I was pick pocketed night one, which should have been enough of a red flag to be more careful when I went out, but I figured that everyone gets pick pocketed in Phuket. Glad I got that out of the way.

I did my fair share of good deeds as well. I found a girl from Scotland in a pile of her own throw up in the restroom. No one was making any gesture to help, so I picked the mess up off the sticky floor and figured out where she needed to be. 45 minutes later with someone else’s puke staining my own clothing, and I finally got the girl to her hostel, in bed, trash can standing by. Not only that, but I verbally abused a man who groped one of my friends while we were out. I made sure he stayed clear of our group and gave him a few pointer finger to chest shoves before he sulked away.

I was setting myself up for what should’ve been the best week of my life. After spending a couple of days with friends, I was going to island hop solo. I had the islands and transportation planned, with activities throughout. With only one more night alone in Phuket, I figured I would make friends with the people at my hostel and have a good last night on the island before heading out by myself.

While all of this can and should be blamed on my own stupidity, I am deciding to shift the guilt onto a very attractive Australian I met while staying at the hostel. We decided, after a night out, to go for a swim. We floated on the quiet black sea, starring at stars that couldn’t be found elsewhere. Our limbs got lost in one another’s as we tangled and untangled ourselves through small, breaking waves, trying to use the other for support, but finding none. His mouth tasted like tequila and salt water.

As the waves pushed us slowly back to shore, our belongings, or lack thereof, became blatantly clear to us. I ran as fast as the sand and water would allow only to find myself on an empty beach, nothing but my skirt left, covered in sand. The Australian wasn’t as lucky; the perp even stole his pants.

Six months from now, the idea of us wandering around Bangla Road will be funny. The Australian wearing nothing but his soaked, skin hugging boxers and me, wailing, snot and tears uncontrollably escaping the holes in my face while I can all but choke out my information to the police will have me and all my friends doubled over in laughter at the hilarity and stupidity of it all. For right now, the fact that my passport, driver’s license, medical insurance card, purse, phone, over $500 and debit cards, both Thai and U.S. are gone has left me feeling so helpless not even the humor in all of this can get me to crack a smile.

I should have had good karma coming my way. Many people were sharing that I was in their prayers. What good was this going to do me, 16 hours away from my home with no way to get there? I can not speak highly enough of my mother, who worked tirelessly to get money wired to Phuket. I can not thank my father enough for reaching out to the embassy, unnecessarily after I went ofline after contacting them to let them know I had been robbed. I can not thank my friend Jennalyn enough for getting that money from my mother, bringing it to me and driving me to the bus station to figure out how I was going to get home. I also couldn’t be happier to be spending the time trying to figure out what we were going to do next with a very attractive Australian. Side note for those of you who know me: he was blonde! How I normally hate blondes.

I surprise myself: to overcome things, to pick myself back up, to suddenly be attracted to blondes, but I also love how I am constantly surprised by other people. I loathe those who stole from me, but I am shocked by those who, without question, were by my side. The first night at the hostel I wrote off some English men who seemed quite unruly. They took my rental moped for an aggressive spin. They salivated at the mouth for the hookers they would soon pay for. One jumped out of a third floor window to escape women he thought he would enjoy the company of for free. Disgusting, I thought. Yet as I trudged in sandy boots up to my room, who else other than the English man stuck his head out of his room, offered me money, and eventually went searching for our things with the Australian. They bought us our drinks when we went out that night, and we toasted in the company of new and strange friends. I will forever cherish their uniqueness and fearlessness of life.

Money wired, back at my apartment, I sit writing this without having even a shower, food or sleep for that matter. I need to reflect on the moment to forgive myself for it. To remind myself, in the long run, it’s only money (and a lot of it I might add). Yes, I continue to fall. I fell when I got blood poisoning. I told myself I wasn’t going to make it when I didn’t think I could be any more alone. Yet here we are, hundreds of dollars less at my availability, sun burnt, ashamed and still able to sit down and tell you all about it.