Butterfly goes Cable Skiing

There’s a lesson to be learnt from committing your weekends even before you know what life has installed for you. Especially when you are me, where clubbing religiously every weekend is a sacrilegious affair I’ve surrendered myself to.

The cable ski trip to Batam with Huixx that was conceived over Yoga the previous week was an inked agreement we had over one of those juvenile discourses that ended with ‘steady’ and ‘on you’. Next thing I know, we have a house party scheduled just the night before I was supposed to get pissed and fall off the wake board.

Like all myopic boys, who’s understanding for consequence is limited and hindered by hedonism and fueled by chicks and alcohol, we decided that partying through the night and going to the ferry terminal straight was a great idea. It's somewhere up along the great conceptions of all time, like when Saddam gassed the Kurds and was voted Asshole of the Decade.

By the time the party trickled to a gender polarization of girls chatting in the toilet and the guys lying contorted on the bed, I knew waking up for the ferry was best left as an imaginary ideal.

Fatigue and the aftermath of whiskey had already sedated me from the sausage fest this had degenerated to. Seriously, all we needed were beers and we would have qualified for Oktoberfest. Jake Gyllenhaal would have been proud.

I don’t know if it was the promise to Huixx or the thought of forfeiting the $80 which drove bullets of responsibility in us to rise from slumber, but I remembered LB trying to call off the whole thing in a conversation that went like this,

LB: “Huixx.. can we not go?”
[Pause]
LB: “Okay! Wake up! Wake up!”

We rushed, took a cab, instructed the cabbie to speed down to Harbour Front in 15mins and when we got there, we had enough time from waiting for Huixx and the others, to plan a heist on Fort Knox.

I took a survey on AIDS awareness in exchange for free condoms. Below are some abstracts of the questionnaire and what I said,

“Can you tell an AIDS carrier just by looking at them?”
Me: “Yes, they are fat.”

“Do you know how AIDS can be transmitted?”
Me: “Saliva.”

“Do you think there is a need for AIDS awareness?”
Me: “AIDS is a make believe myth, like Werewolves and Dengue fever.”

I swear the survey girl thought I was an idiot for a second, but I eventually ended up with enough condoms to make sure I don’t have a kid for the next 2 months. In Butterfly monetary translation, I just saved enough money to buy myself more drinks. My mum must be so proud of me.

Huixx finally came with Leo and Felix, and were all also displaying similar symptoms of a heavy night. I am traveling out of Singapore with a bunch of alcoholics who believe as much as I do that Saturday’s mornings are meant for curing Friday’s hangover with more beer. We are idiots, but I love us.

When we finally got there and I saw how huge the place was, I realized that I had almost zero interest in cable skiing and I came for the sole purpose of drinking. Yet, even that was slowly crumbling as the hangovers started to pound itself into my consciousness. I swear that if my temporal veins throbbed any more than it did, it would have looked like my eyebrows were break dancing.

We lazed a lot. Slouching by the table, watching as the novices fell so repeatedly, that I thought we were watching re-runs of Groundhog Day. Cable skiing isn’t easy I’d credit them that much, but falling and trying it over again really reminded me of a saying.

“Winners never quit and quitters never win. But those that don’t win and don’t quite are idiots.”

This was almost the perfect Saturday story. Sitting in the shade, drinking beer so early I almost felt guilty and laughing at people falling into the water. The only thing that would have provided the perfect closure was a wet T-Shirt contest.

When I finally did try, my perseverance lasted 5 tries.

1st try, I got up, lost focus and fell. Some guy comes over to give me pointers and tells me I’m a natural. Of cos’ I am, did you really thing I was simply just watching the other idiots fall into the water?

2nd try. I got up, fell, swallowed sea-water and had a small cut on my ankle. I hate cable skiing already.

3rd try. Fell. My groin hurts, but so does my pride. My priority now shifts to making sure my pants don't fall off.

4th try. I don’t remember shit, only that I eventually fell. My new goal was now to look glamourous while coming out off the water.

5th try. I fell again after some distance and I definitely shouted vulgarities. I am a horrible person.

LB on the other hand, is relentless in his onslaught for conquering the sport. I only remembered one candid instance where he couldn’t maneuver the board in time and he flew off the ramp partially. I thought it was totally hilarious and but one of the coolest thing he did in a long time.

Me: “Fuck! That was damn cool!!”
Huixx: “I don’t think he meant to do that babe..”
Me: “Ohh…”

One of the guys was constantly trying to get Leo to do a full monty for a round in return for a free board. He eventually pitched it to some young chick only that she needed to do it topless. I secretly did a cheer and thank God for having me there. She eventally punctured the idea. I hate her. The dream is crushed and there is no longer a purpose to stay in Batam.

The other thing that made cable skiing a great spectator sport was the part when the girls took out their life jackets. As Huixx and Leo constantly reminded, “Always adjust before removing.”

It’s like watching candid camera, only live and being above 18yrs old at the same time. Only this time, the code word for the day was ‘Peek-a-boo”.

The only activity we’re looking forward to now is the Speed dating in September. Well of cos, this week is ‘Celebrate Butterfly’s Birthday’ week. And of cos, the dynamite fishing trip with LB in Phuket.

Life.Is.Great