Running with the wolf pack.

Running with the wolf pack.

So picture the scene, for those that have worked on the islands, of a typical night on the beach. For those that haven’t fire ropes flash in the dark, music pounds, bodies gyrate and gasoline flies freely through the air. Five girls absently do the two step on a stage, the ever present buckets hanging from their mouths. I am one of them and apart from a random unidentifiable pain in my chest and occasional difficulty in breathing I’m loving it. I watch as the supremely and unbearably irritating Burmese child that works with us attempts the fire rope. Bearing in mind that due to the suspected bi polar/ADHD he definitely suffers from its advisable that he’s kept away from anything flammable, sharp or living, I know this is going to end badly. Sure enough as he trips, falls and writhes on the floor I cackle at his misfortune. I’m still chuckling 5 minutes later as I wonder vaguely at what point it became acceptable to laugh at 13 year olds burning in fire. (Just for the record he’s fine, it’s extremely common to fall in the fire show and having partaken in this myself many times I judge myself qualified to laugh at others sharing the same fate)
Soon enough 1am rolls around and our 400 baht (8 pounds) is duly handed out. We are all nicely marinated in vodka and red bull at this point and feeling the usual sense of hedonism that is rife on this island after 11pm. We naturally decide that we haven’t had enough and agree to head off to Stones bar for more. We happily hop off the stage, buckets in hand and chattering about nothing in particular, we toddle off down the beach – nothing unusual there. However we haven’t got far when all of a sudden a Thai person shoots past us so fast he disappears into the shadows before we can register what’s happened, it was almost a blink and you miss it moment, but we didn’t miss it – and this is not something usual. Rapidly the air becomes charged with something other then petrol. Something wild and uneasy vibrates through through the night. We stop uncertainly. And within seconds it’s like Hells greyhounds have been released. Thai bodies, lithe, limber and covered in tattoos bound past us on all sides, dark shapes flying through the night. Their teeth are bared and eyes like dark pools intent on nothing but hunting their unknown (and unfortunate) victim. Whatever carnal instinct is reverberating all around us instantaneously possesses one of my friends and without so much as one word she takes off with them into the night, as if its the most natural thing in the world. Me and my remaining friend stare open mouthed, buckets hanging limply by our sides as bodies fly past us, intoxicated by the imminent kill.
“oh my god its like a wolf pack or something” my friend observes, summing up the situation perfectly. Thats exactly what its like. Vaguely we discuss what could be going on, we have no idea but it can’t be good. We take a few uncertain steps forward, before stopping and looking at each other. The dark and the dangerous is infectious and the air is ripe with it.
“Well, shall we run with them then?” Asks my friend.
“Yeh” I reply, a manic gleam in my eye.
And the next second that’s it, we are sprinting down the beach, in full party attire, buckets splashing liberally all around us. And for a few minutes we are wild and free, running, hunting the prey, cackling primitively. Seriously, I almost howled. I genuinely believe that had there been a lion passing through at that time we would of set upon it and ripped it to shreds with our bare teeth. Unfortunately our run with the wild side was sadly short lived as we quickly reached the end of the beach and the big pile of rocks that resides there.
“What do we do now then” asks my friend, stumped, as the pack flies past us like Satans antelopes springing easily over the mountainous terrain.
“Come on we can do this” I say, and so cautiously we pick our way over the boulders to cries of “there’s a way through here look” “mind your foot babe” “use your phone light!” and “OUCH!!!” Eventually we make it to a sandy gap that’s attached to the sea, and deciding that its all getting rather Bear Grylls, that we have a perfect viewing point from here and that it’s unnecessary to actually tempt death, we stop. Torches flash over the rocks ahead of us, yells pierce the air, our friend can be heard but not seen chatting away over all of it, and we definitely heard the words “I’ll kill him”, the hunt is on, the wolves searching searching… As we muse all of this from a relatively safe distance I suddenly notice my foot is wet and that there’s a bloody awful smell all around.
“Can you smell that!?” I ask, nose wrinkled.
“Oh yeh, that’s the sewage that flows into the sea from here, didn’t you know that? Don’t ever swim in this water is mingin”
I didn’t know that, I frequently swim there, but it would explain the wet foot at least. We are still discussing the grossness of open flowing sewage, the fate of my unfortunate foot, that nice beach is better anyway although its annoying because its like a ten minute walk away, and maybe we should go there tomorrow as the destiny of some poor soul hangs in the balance. Death is in the air, but did you know that there’s another way to the beach behind princess resort? Soon after this we notice that the atmosphere has changed to one of bitter disappointment, members of the pack are beginning to slink away into the dark, grumbling, deprived of their prize. It would seem that the rabbit has escaped this time. God knows what happened to him, he’s probably still living up there trembling behind a shrub and surviving off ants. Either way we finally manage to retrieve our friend who is hopping off a boulder chattering away happily to the Thais, and this time we hang on to her just incase of any relapses. After picking our way slowly and painfully back over the rocks we decide to resume our original plan and head to Stones. As we plod back up the beach we question our friend and other retreating shadows about what the hell was going on and it would seem that:
a) a drink was stolen from Slinky.
b) a Thai guy punched a random tourist girl for no apparent reason
c) a wallet was stolen from Woodies.
Take your pick because the truth was never discovered but to be honest I don’t think it matters anyway. As I’ve mentioned before it is wild here, a thin veil protects from outright anarchy and just sometimes that veil is broken. We saw this that night, and just for a few minutes we were part of it. It’s only when we crash out on the bean bags at Stones, and the adrenaline has stopped pumping that I notice my foot is still wet, and in a considerable amount of pain. My friend has similar. Upon closer inspection we discover we both have large cuts on our feet, mine is bleeding openly. But in true worker style rather then being bothered we are pleased, we ran with the wolf pack and we’ve got the scars and probably hepatitis to prove it. Welcome to Phi Phi bitches.

2 thoughts on “Running with the wolf pack.

  1. Nikki I MISS YOU I wish you were running around New Cross with the urban f0xes and me Not quite as glamorous or idllyic but still…… Your blog is great I’m sure you’re having the time of your life, have it for me as well please Love from the bulbous thumb and me xxxxx


    1. Awwwwww the bulbous thumb!!! Was it murderous aswell, OMG I was crying lol. Arrgh thanks for reading it babe, if I ever return to England I’m 100% moving back to London and we can run with the foxes and join a gang or something and I shall write about it all day long 🙂 🙂 come for a holiday!! Xxx


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