Skygarden’s the limit

I don’t know if I mentioned it but Australia totally diddled me. It was cold. Like October in England cold. Like wear fucking tights under your trousers on bonfire night, Kangaroos with scarves and earmuffs nearly getting blown into the sea cold.

I had some choices – sit out the rest of my adventure of a lifetime with nipples you could hang your coat on or get myself to warmer climes. I got advised that when in Rome do as the Romans do and when in Oz, head to Bali.

The first place you usually go to in Bali is Kuta, or as it’s more commonly known the ‘Ibiza of Australia’. Probably due to it’s proximity to the airport. It comes, as promised, complete with a beach, pools, loud Australians, not to mention an all you can eat, all you can drink buffet at a place called ‘Skygarden’.

All this modern vomitorium costs for unlimited food and booze is 115,000 Rupiah, which as per today’s exchange rate, is a grand sum of £7.04 and you can imagine what manner of scum that attracts. Mainly – me.

The draw of Kuta was also based on the fact that I had two friends from London there, a couple who I will call Rajesh and Priyanka (due to the population of Bali asking them non stop if they were Indian, when they are actually from Croydon).

When I finally got to the hostel they got me in on their 4 bed dorm and so it was me, the two of them and a Swedish boy of about 19 called Obi. There was a sign on the dorm wall below the lightswitch that read ‘Please do not take your valuables to Skygarden, there are thieves operating there’

Rajesh: ‘We are 100% going to Skygarden’

The rules of Skygarden are simple: Arrive at 5pm, eat and drink all you can till 9pm, the food is themed, Monday is pizza night for example, and the drinks are beer or some paint stripper vodka and a choice of mixers. Come on, did you hear the part about it being Seven quid? Rajesh, Priyanka, Obi and I took a military style approach to getting the drinks in and needless to say we woke in the morning wondering where the hell we left our dignity. From the uncomfortable top bunk I croaked at Rajesh ‘Can I have your bottom bunk if you’re leaving to get that flight mate?’

Rajesh: You can, but I’ve been sick all over it.

I lay with numb limbs and flapped a goodbye to the couple who were jetting off to Thailand still dreadfully intoxicated. It was just me and Obi left. In a drunken moment of madness it passed my mind to go there, he was sort of cute in a 19 year old jail bait way I think?

I flopped down from my bunk with all the grace of a shitfaced slug.

Obi (in a thick Swedish accent): Vere are my pants?

Me: I think I saw them in the bathroom?

Obi then does something that I think encapsulates all my fears about dating someone younger than 29. I can’t tell if it was panic or confidence that inspired his next move but he swiftly threw his blanket off, cupped his dick and balls and shuffled his tiny white 19 year old arse into the communal bathroom.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” I say pointlessly and take myself out of the dorm mouthing “What the fuck?!”

Yep – no one under the age of 29, definitely no one under 29.

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