I roll the legs of my jeans up—the right first, then the left. There is a pleasant breeze blowing over Karon Beach on the isle of Phuket in Thailand. The lack of clear, blue sky is disappointing, but I’ll take the breeze over the blue sky any day.
Walking to the end of the concrete path that leads to the beach, I inhale deeply. The sea is calm tonight, the calmest I’ve seen it in the four days I’ve been here. I look south and find nothing but a horde of tourists. I look north and find much of the same. I elect to head north anyhow. The time is 6:40. Sunset is supposed to be 6:48—according to Google. I check my watch again. I can only assume Google can’t be wrong.
Expecting a spectacular sky, red as the sunsets into the Indian Ocean, I see nothing but horrific thunderheads journeying towards the island. The red sky will come, I know it.
A couple takes turns passing their camera off as they pose for pictures on the sand. An Asian man buries his girlfriend in the sand giving her exaggerated breasts. Two boys kick a soccer ball back and fourth. All look to be in a complete state of bliss. I take a moment to admire the woman posing for pictures. Her beautiful tan is accompanied by a perfect complexion and her solid black two-piece bikini only accentuates her beauty. One of the boys has kicked a ‘goal’ and, with his shirt pulled over his head, runs circles around the other boy with his arms extended like an airplane. The Asian man laughs hysterically, groping his girlfriends sand breasts.
Pulling my camera from my jeans pocket I snap a quick photo of the beachscape. After a few more paces down the beach I prop the camera up in the sand and take a self photo. I shove the camera back into my pocket a pull out a pack of Marlboro Cigarettes. I struggle in the whipping wind to get one lit, but persistence pays off. I take a deep drag off the newly lit cigarette and continue up the beach.
The tide seems to be coming in and the water feels cool on my feet. I stop and turn looking into the seemingly infinite ocean. I’ve always liked the ocean. It’s the thought that just on the other side is a world I know nothing about that gets me. You can never really grasp the enormity of the ocean until you fly over it. As the water retreats my feet sink into the sand—one my favorite sensations.
Without really thinking, I bend over and write her name in the sand with my finger. The waves come close to erasing the letters, but for now it's safe.
"How'd you know my name?" a voice asks curiously from behind me. Sitting on the sand no more than fifteen feet away is a gorgeous blonde, a blue towel is wrapped around her waist, her flip-flops sit to he right of her bare feet.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"You just wrote my name in the sand. How'd you know my name?" she asks again. I don't notice an accent, she's either American or Canadian, I am unable to tell yet.
"That's your name?"
"That's my name, and you just wrote it in the sand. Is that your girlfriend's name?" a smile crosses her face as she wipes away an obvious tear.
"Ha, nope, it is not." I try to calculate the odds of what I've just done, but they're simply too astronomical.
She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I can tell she's been crying. I can't believe I didn't notice her. I must have been too occupied with the ocean.
"Then why did you write it?" I catch the hint of a slight laughter in her voice. I seem to have brought her some sort of humor. After all, I'm still blown away by the odds the act.
I can't help but laugh. "I really don't know." I look down again at my feet in the sand, embarrassed. Why did I write her name?
"Can I bum one of those?" she points to the cigarette in between my fingers. I've nearly forgotten about it and it has burnt nearly to the filter.
"Sure," I answer, pulling the pack from my pocket. "You know, I don't usually smoke," and it's true, I don't, aside from the occasional marijuana and hookah.
"Me neither," she says, again laughing, "but what a better time to start?" she jokes. I hand her a cigarette which she immediately places between her lips. I shove the pack back into my pocket, next removing the lighter. She leans forward, motioning for me to light it. Again the wind wreaks havoc on the process. I cup one hand around the cigarette in an attempt to block out the wind. It's no success, however that is until she places her hand against mine, creating an even bigger wind-block. The touch is innocent, but I feel there's something more to it.
"So, you know my name," she scoots in the direction of her flip-flops and spreads out her towel in an inviting manner, finishing her sentence at that.
"I'm Skyler," I extend my hand towards her.
She places the cigarette in her mouth and brushes the sand from her hand off on her bare thigh. I can't tell if she's wearing a bikini bottom or simply short shorts.
"Nice to meet you, Skyler," again she laughs. "Where are you from? Sit down, sit down," she motions to the towel.
"Oregon, USA." I find that although everyone is familiar with the United States, very few people are familiar with the beautiful state of Oregon.
She nods in excitement, taking a drag. "I'm from Seattle," she says exhaling the smoke. It appears as if she has smoked before.
"I was just there a couple months ago!" I tell her enthusiastically, "I caught an M's game!"
"Don't get me started on the Mariners." There's a quite serious tone to her voice. "Who'd they play?"
"Texas, if I remember right."
"That wasn't the one they lost in twelve was it?"
I bow my head, about to recount the worst sporting event I've ever been to. "They had the bases loaded with no outs in the bottom of the tenth AND eleventh and lost by two in the top of the twelfth. Frustrating. And," I continue, "I had to drive five hours back to Oregon after it finally ended. Don't get ME started on the Mariners."
She just stares at me.
"What?" I ask concerned.
"I was at the game."
"No shit?"
"Yes shit!" She shakes her head as if she's trying to wake from a dream. "Man, how crazy is this?" She too appears to be baffled by our chance encounter.
"I know, right?" It is hard to believe. I want to ask her why she was crying, but it doesn't seem necessary.
We sit in silence, both awaiting something colorful from the setting sun.
"It's like the sun never sets here, it just becomes dark suddenly." Her words are hauntingly beautiful.
"Yeah, it looks like the whole, watching the sunset thing was a bust," I admit. I check my watch again and it's past seven. Already the darkness has moved in and the thunderheads are not too far off. I know our time on the beach is short.
"Looks like it's gonna pour," I say, in an attempt to continue our conversation and prolong our time together.
She nods, extinguishing the cigarette in the sand behind us.
"Thanks for the smoke. I really needed it."
"Not a problem," I say, bowing my head, "anytime."
Again we sit in silence.
The couple taking pictures has since dispersed. The boys have packed up their soccer ball and are gone as well. There is also no sign of the Asian couple. I peer down the beach, in both directions, and see no one. It is as if we are the only two people on Karon.
“How long are you in Thailad for?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“I leave tomorrow.”
“Ah,” is the only thing I can say.
“You?”
“Uh, I’ll be here until the month.”
"Ugh," she says suddenly, sticking her tongue out, "my boyfriend's going to know I had a cigarette."
"You have a boyfriend?" she can tell there's disappointment in my voice. Story of my life.
"Yeah, he's probably wondering where I'm at, actually." I could tell there was accompanying disappointment in her voice as well. "I better be getting back." She stands and I follow. Picking the towel up and shaking off the sand we both are quiet—then I remember.
“Oh, hey, here,” I reach into the pocket opposite the cigarettes and pull from it a roll of Mentos. I hold them up to her. “They’re the fresh maker,” I joke and pop one into my mouth giving a cheesy smile. I push a purple colored, grape flavored Mento to the top of the roll and extend the tube to her.
“Oh, perfect,” she says, jumping at the fruity breath freshener. “Yum, grape,” she smiles. She steps forward, and without any warning kisses me on the lips. I can taste a mixture of nicotine and grape Mento. “See?” she asks.
Throwing the towel over her shoulder she walks in the opposite direction from where I came, turning around after a few paces. “Nice to meet you, Skyler,” she shoots a smile in my direction and it is met by a simple smirk.
“Nice to meet you too.”
And then she is gone.
I walk back over to where I unknowingly wrote her name in the sand. It is since long gone.
Walking to the end of the concrete path that leads to the beach, I inhale deeply. The sea is calm tonight, the calmest I’ve seen it in the four days I’ve been here. I look south and find nothing but a horde of tourists. I look north and find much of the same. I elect to head north anyhow. The time is 6:40. Sunset is supposed to be 6:48—according to Google. I check my watch again. I can only assume Google can’t be wrong.
Expecting a spectacular sky, red as the sunsets into the Indian Ocean, I see nothing but horrific thunderheads journeying towards the island. The red sky will come, I know it.
A couple takes turns passing their camera off as they pose for pictures on the sand. An Asian man buries his girlfriend in the sand giving her exaggerated breasts. Two boys kick a soccer ball back and fourth. All look to be in a complete state of bliss. I take a moment to admire the woman posing for pictures. Her beautiful tan is accompanied by a perfect complexion and her solid black two-piece bikini only accentuates her beauty. One of the boys has kicked a ‘goal’ and, with his shirt pulled over his head, runs circles around the other boy with his arms extended like an airplane. The Asian man laughs hysterically, groping his girlfriends sand breasts.
Pulling my camera from my jeans pocket I snap a quick photo of the beachscape. After a few more paces down the beach I prop the camera up in the sand and take a self photo. I shove the camera back into my pocket a pull out a pack of Marlboro Cigarettes. I struggle in the whipping wind to get one lit, but persistence pays off. I take a deep drag off the newly lit cigarette and continue up the beach.
The tide seems to be coming in and the water feels cool on my feet. I stop and turn looking into the seemingly infinite ocean. I’ve always liked the ocean. It’s the thought that just on the other side is a world I know nothing about that gets me. You can never really grasp the enormity of the ocean until you fly over it. As the water retreats my feet sink into the sand—one my favorite sensations.
Without really thinking, I bend over and write her name in the sand with my finger. The waves come close to erasing the letters, but for now it's safe.
"How'd you know my name?" a voice asks curiously from behind me. Sitting on the sand no more than fifteen feet away is a gorgeous blonde, a blue towel is wrapped around her waist, her flip-flops sit to he right of her bare feet.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"You just wrote my name in the sand. How'd you know my name?" she asks again. I don't notice an accent, she's either American or Canadian, I am unable to tell yet.
"That's your name?"
"That's my name, and you just wrote it in the sand. Is that your girlfriend's name?" a smile crosses her face as she wipes away an obvious tear.
"Ha, nope, it is not." I try to calculate the odds of what I've just done, but they're simply too astronomical.
She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I can tell she's been crying. I can't believe I didn't notice her. I must have been too occupied with the ocean.
"Then why did you write it?" I catch the hint of a slight laughter in her voice. I seem to have brought her some sort of humor. After all, I'm still blown away by the odds the act.
I can't help but laugh. "I really don't know." I look down again at my feet in the sand, embarrassed. Why did I write her name?
"Can I bum one of those?" she points to the cigarette in between my fingers. I've nearly forgotten about it and it has burnt nearly to the filter.
"Sure," I answer, pulling the pack from my pocket. "You know, I don't usually smoke," and it's true, I don't, aside from the occasional marijuana and hookah.
"Me neither," she says, again laughing, "but what a better time to start?" she jokes. I hand her a cigarette which she immediately places between her lips. I shove the pack back into my pocket, next removing the lighter. She leans forward, motioning for me to light it. Again the wind wreaks havoc on the process. I cup one hand around the cigarette in an attempt to block out the wind. It's no success, however that is until she places her hand against mine, creating an even bigger wind-block. The touch is innocent, but I feel there's something more to it.
"So, you know my name," she scoots in the direction of her flip-flops and spreads out her towel in an inviting manner, finishing her sentence at that.
"I'm Skyler," I extend my hand towards her.
She places the cigarette in her mouth and brushes the sand from her hand off on her bare thigh. I can't tell if she's wearing a bikini bottom or simply short shorts.
"Nice to meet you, Skyler," again she laughs. "Where are you from? Sit down, sit down," she motions to the towel.
"Oregon, USA." I find that although everyone is familiar with the United States, very few people are familiar with the beautiful state of Oregon.
She nods in excitement, taking a drag. "I'm from Seattle," she says exhaling the smoke. It appears as if she has smoked before.
"I was just there a couple months ago!" I tell her enthusiastically, "I caught an M's game!"
"Don't get me started on the Mariners." There's a quite serious tone to her voice. "Who'd they play?"
"Texas, if I remember right."
"That wasn't the one they lost in twelve was it?"
I bow my head, about to recount the worst sporting event I've ever been to. "They had the bases loaded with no outs in the bottom of the tenth AND eleventh and lost by two in the top of the twelfth. Frustrating. And," I continue, "I had to drive five hours back to Oregon after it finally ended. Don't get ME started on the Mariners."
She just stares at me.
"What?" I ask concerned.
"I was at the game."
"No shit?"
"Yes shit!" She shakes her head as if she's trying to wake from a dream. "Man, how crazy is this?" She too appears to be baffled by our chance encounter.
"I know, right?" It is hard to believe. I want to ask her why she was crying, but it doesn't seem necessary.
We sit in silence, both awaiting something colorful from the setting sun.
"It's like the sun never sets here, it just becomes dark suddenly." Her words are hauntingly beautiful.
"Yeah, it looks like the whole, watching the sunset thing was a bust," I admit. I check my watch again and it's past seven. Already the darkness has moved in and the thunderheads are not too far off. I know our time on the beach is short.
"Looks like it's gonna pour," I say, in an attempt to continue our conversation and prolong our time together.
She nods, extinguishing the cigarette in the sand behind us.
"Thanks for the smoke. I really needed it."
"Not a problem," I say, bowing my head, "anytime."
Again we sit in silence.
The couple taking pictures has since dispersed. The boys have packed up their soccer ball and are gone as well. There is also no sign of the Asian couple. I peer down the beach, in both directions, and see no one. It is as if we are the only two people on Karon.
“How long are you in Thailad for?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“I leave tomorrow.”
“Ah,” is the only thing I can say.
“You?”
“Uh, I’ll be here until the month.”
"Ugh," she says suddenly, sticking her tongue out, "my boyfriend's going to know I had a cigarette."
"You have a boyfriend?" she can tell there's disappointment in my voice. Story of my life.
"Yeah, he's probably wondering where I'm at, actually." I could tell there was accompanying disappointment in her voice as well. "I better be getting back." She stands and I follow. Picking the towel up and shaking off the sand we both are quiet—then I remember.
“Oh, hey, here,” I reach into the pocket opposite the cigarettes and pull from it a roll of Mentos. I hold them up to her. “They’re the fresh maker,” I joke and pop one into my mouth giving a cheesy smile. I push a purple colored, grape flavored Mento to the top of the roll and extend the tube to her.
“Oh, perfect,” she says, jumping at the fruity breath freshener. “Yum, grape,” she smiles. She steps forward, and without any warning kisses me on the lips. I can taste a mixture of nicotine and grape Mento. “See?” she asks.
Throwing the towel over her shoulder she walks in the opposite direction from where I came, turning around after a few paces. “Nice to meet you, Skyler,” she shoots a smile in my direction and it is met by a simple smirk.
“Nice to meet you too.”
And then she is gone.
I walk back over to where I unknowingly wrote her name in the sand. It is since long gone.
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