Boracay
I Guzzled, Goofed, Got Groped and Came Down with Gastroenteritis

Insignificantly Insidious Insights
By Roy Macalma

As always, the never ending crusade to finding THE ONE is still one of the agenda items I have prepared before I boarded the plane to the sunny shores of Boracay for 4 days and 3 nights of celebration with good friends. I expected it to be another harmless, fun holiday, but it turned out to be something else.

GUZZLED. Somehow, I planned my first night to be spent for rest since the trip was so arduous it took a toll on my hair and my fingernails (yes, they get tired too, I suppose), however, my good friend Chillax dragged us to this smallish bar with good music and an obviously upscale crowd. It took a while before I relented to drink some of the bar’s intoxicating cocktails. I opted for my safe choice of Long Island which is for me, the perfect party drink – I like how it tastes, intoxicates and gives you a slight hangover in the morning; and did my very own celebutante dance ala Nicole Richie with drink in one hand and the other arm swaying to the music. Then my friends saw a drink on the menu interestingly named Adios Motherfucker. Since I’m on a foreign place with very little chance of encountering people who might know my mom personally, I decided to give Adios a try. It stayed true to its name, it fucked with me big time. I was so careless; I didn’t even know what I was doing half of the time. We were all so hammered we were laughing and dancing even with complete strangers. As a (rather unwelcome) treat to the other people there, they saw a revisit of Miss Universe 2009’s opening number with me sashaying to the tune of Fire Burning by Sean Kingston like a Miss Universe delegate complete with the hand motions. It somehow felt good to let loose and with so much fun during our first night, I had a feeling that things would heat up on our succeeding nights.

GOOFED.  I had to pee so I walked ahead of my friends back to our lodge and I was sitting alone at the balcony, staring at the night sky when suddenly a very tall guy came into my line of vision. As I struggled to make out what he said on top of my drunken stupor, he smiled and extended his hand. I managed to understand from behind his thick Bondi Beach accent that he was Vincent. I felt the squeeze when I took his hand and somehow we tried to converse; only to struggle afterwards as it felt like thick custard coz it refused to flow. He is a pilot from Sydney, and was very enthusiastic in the conversation even talking to my friends when they arrived, only to be answered with half-baked replies which came from my stupid mouth. Darn it, alcohol dulled my wits and was ruining my chances with Vincent. As the evening came to close, he told me he hopes I could visit him in Sydney someday soon. The next morning proved otherwise. I met Vincent again but this time he has a blonde woman in tow. Judging from the way she clung to Vincent, she’s the girlfriend. My eyes met Vincent’s and somehow I understood and never uttered a greeting. Damn, the guy is wading on unfamiliar waters last night. I cannot blame myself for being too drunk to get his hint but definitely when I see him again, I’ll make sure he’ll remember me even when he’s already in Sydney.

GROPED. The following night was the beginning of my woes when I mistakenly ate tainted shellfish. I knew one of the ousters I had in my mouth tasted funky but I thought they were due to the flavor added by the cook. An uneventful Jessica Simpson moment indeed as I realized later that night that my stomach had a mind of its own and was doing strange things not associated with a sound digestive tract. Not really feeling that bad, I went to a bar with my friends. The bar turned out to be a hang-out for island hookers and their Nordic clientele. A mixture of a trashy crowd and stomach runs prompted me to just stay wherever I am and just sway rather stiffly, still with a drink on one hand. As my dear friend was making his Tiesto raver moves, I was surprised to feel a squeeze on my left butt cheek. It dawned on me that I was groped and when I turned around to see the assailant, it was a Nordic woman, in her glorified blondness. She smiled like a mischievous imp and just cruised along. Staying true to myself, I felt honored I was groped. Seriously, it takes so much courage to walk up to a person and grab his ass cheeks like that. I let it go and let the night drag ever so slowly.

GASTROENTERITIS. As I tried to sleep, I was feeling very bad and my stomach refused to stop making somersaults like a performer of the Moscow Circus. It turned out that another friend was also feeling the pain and has already gone ahead to the local hospital. We shared meds throughout the day. That night I was not able to go out, I was feeling so ill I felt like writing on my journal every rumbling I felt on my stomach; waiting for sunrise and the trip home.

Upon arriving home, I had myself checked into an undisclosed hospital (very celebrity-ish) for treatment.  For the most part, the trip was a very enlightening experience. I went to Boracay doubting myself and was given an astounding proof that I still got it. So watch out boys, I’m here to stay and as for THE ONE, I still haven’t given up on you.

Writing as Kiddo, Roy Macalma shares his take on the incessant search for the right one. He may be reached at kiddolovesit@yahoo.com.