The Tale of Wailing Jenny.

The Tale of Wailing Jenny.

It was another night on phi phi and everyone was as hedonistic and out of control as usual, except for me. I wasn’t feeling hedonistic at all, in fact I was in a foul mood and, after battling through a shift completely sober, fending off drooling tourists left right and centre, I was positively murderous. The only thought that had soothed my soul for the previous two hours was of getting my 400baht, buying a pizza slice and heading home to my bed and book nice and early. I should of known of course, as I gleefully skipped out of slinkys at 1 with my friend Russ in tow, that we would never make it unscathed.
It happened much sooner then even I could of imagined. I had literally just ordered my pizza slice when an ear splitting shriek tore through the air. If I hadn’t known better I would of thought a “Saw” movie was playing, it sounded so much like someone suffering an agonising torturous death. Me and Russ froze over the mayo, and slowly turned round to see a truly horrific sight. A girl, a big girl, was writhing on the floor of the pizza shop opposite, crying and screaming absolute blue murder. A Thai lady boy was stood over her kicking her, throwing buckets of water all over her, and yelling “you get out, ugly girl, get out”. A couple stood open mouthed and watching, their only movement being to get their iPhones out and start recording. People were walking past, looking vaguely shocked, or sniggering at her misfortune, but no one stopped. Me and Russ looked at each other, and I inwardly groaned. It was one of those things that just definitely wasn’t ok, and being possibly the only two sober people on the island we couldn’t just walk away.
Going over to her we tried to get anything coherent out of her but all we could get was more of these blood curdling screams reaching fever pitch, her boobs had flopped out of her bra, and she was quite clearly, absolutely Arseholed. Trying to think rationally through the brain boggling screeches, I left poor russ at the helm and charged into relax bar, the closest bar, to see if anybody had seen her or knew anything about her. No one did. So I commandeered my poor friend Big Richard, who was enjoying a drink at the bar into helping. He wasn’t happy about it, but I think he sensed danger from my tone of voice and wisely agreed to help.
It was a big effort to get her up. A really big effort. Understandably the boys didn’t want to touch her boobs flopping about everywhere, so muggins here had the job of trying to get them back in, and as I said she was no small girl. We managed to get her a few feet up the road before we needed a break, she was literally a dead weight, a dead, screaming, crying weight and it was pretty intense. There was no getting sense out of her, so I came up with the idea of checking her pockets to see if there was a room key around so we could have some vague idea of where she was staying, who she was .. Anything at all really.
It was as I was passing from one trouser pocket to the other that she peed on me. Now up until then I think I’d been pretty calm and collected in the face of the newly dubbed “wailing Jenny” but I can tell you, I really lost my shit. Face contorted in disgust, holding my hand out in front of me I fully abandoned post and sprinted back into relax bar yelling “she peed on me, she actually peed on me” to the absolute delight of my friends there. Much disinfectant and scrubbing later, I regained my composure, and trying to maintain dignity headed back to the mess.
It took us ages to get her back to Big Richards room, there was no point trying to figure out who she was or where she came from, so he’d gallantly volunteered his bed as it was by far the closest, and he was going to sleep on the floor. We had a blissful period of unconsciousness between banana bar and the Irish bar, until she rose up from between the boys again like something out the Exorcist. At this point I’d had enough and turned to her and snapped sternly “pack that awful noise in right now, there’s absolutely no need for it, nothing bad is happening to you you’re just drunk, now be quiet” and I think for about 20 seconds it actually worked, as we just endured some tearful hiccups for the next few steps.
Of course the wailing resumed momentarily and went on well into the night. Apart from her, poor Russ was probably in the worst state as he’d been nursing a back injury from a few days before, both of them were looking like they may develop heart conditions from the effort in later life and I have to say they deserved a medal for managing to carry her between them all the way back, as I brought up the rear – catching Russ’s hat as it was knocked from his head. We got her to the room and put her in the recovery position, which she instantly writhed out of, so as Big Rich gently held her in a safe position (we all knew the inevitable was going to happen at some point soon) we lit up a well deserved joint and pondered what to do.
Within half an hour the vomit was coming thick and fast, we didn’t bother trying to move her to the bathroom instead just trying to put plastic bags down, and consigning Big Richards bed sheet to the grave. Slowly slowly the wailing and writhing got less, changing to intermittent groans and flops from side to side, and we decided that as she’d probably wake up, panic and do a runner we wanted to let her know that nothing bad had happened to her. So I wrote her a note something along the lines of “hey love, carried you home from the pizza shop floor, don’t worry about the mess we’ll clean it up as you’re definitely going to be feeling like shit, nothing bad happened to you, but maybe next time lay off that last tequila :), lots of love” we wrapped it neatly in a plastic bag to ward off the puke and any other bodily fluids, and tucked it under her bra strap, thinking that she’d definitely notice it there rather then just shoving her jeans straight in the wash without checking her pockets.
She was ok the next morning, and I guess went about getting through a week long hangover as best she could. Despite getting peed on, not enjoying my pizza or getting to read my book, I’m glad we stumbled across her because in the time we were watching not a single other soul offered to help. But I suppose it is this island and as everyone here’s life motto goes “it’s fine, it’s Phi Phi.”
God help us all.

4 thoughts on “The Tale of Wailing Jenny.

  1. Jesus H Christ Nikki, the characters you come across. I think this tops your other drunk girl story! 🙂 xx

    Like

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