Sunrise Dancer
This is a picture of me when I was younger having a naked dance at sunrise. Below, my adult story follows a similar theme (a naked dancing baby pic seemed favourable to an adult pic).
This is a tale of travel, love, some holiday hedonism and illness. I partied too hard and didn't sleep or look after myself sufficiently. I lost my clothes, my marbles, and a lot of cash.
It was disorientating, waking up in hospital with amnesia. I spent considerable time tripping and losing consciousness or having out-of-body experiences (without drugs or alcohol).
It was a drastic health issue. To soften it, I call it a hiccup. The story was kept quiet for a long time. I was 25 at the time. It's now time to air it and share it.
Where am I?
I wake up in a bed which feels unfamiliar. Looking around the room I see blue skies and sunlight streaming through the window. The ceiling light looks unfamiliar. Where am I?
I step out of bed and venture to the window. Pain shoots up my leg. I look down to see my knee is massively swollen. How did that happen?
I hobble to the window and gaze outside. I'm on the second floor overlooking a street with cars passing. It's a beautiful day.
Across the street there are some HUGE, stunning, trees. This can't be England. Where am I? The trees are glistening in the sun and blowing in the breeze.
My eyes hone in on the beautiful trees. I realise the leaves are moving in a surreal and trippy way. These leaves are almost like a molten liquid, and the moving colours are hypnotic.
Looking for something to compare this experience with, I think about the carpet scene in Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas.
Who, Where, Why, How?
Looking around the room I see an open door to the bathroom. As I approach, I see a guy who looks like me. The guy is sporting a shiner. Realising it's my own mirror reflection, I ask myself - how'd I get a black eye?
I don't know where I am. I have a swollen leg injury, a black eye, and the trees outside look trippy and liquid. How did I get here? And, where am I?
My mind starts to run back through memories. There must be some clues. And with clues, I'll find an answer. My mind seems weird. It's a bit stifled. Perhaps hungover. And messy. Perhaps this is connected with my injuries?
I scan my mind for memories. I quickly recall a girl. A beautiful girl. There had been dancing, drinking, parties, sunrises. There was also a beach. A beautiful beach.
Where am I? What happened? How did I get here? I lay back on the bed to collect my thoughts.
Scanning my memory bank, I recall leaving my corporate tech consulting work behind in London. They'd been plane flights. A friend and I had gone on holiday. Parties were had. And I'd met this girl.
But then we'd gone back to the UK - right? Where am I?
Memories of Fun and Fatigue
Images thanks Becca Schultz, David Vives
I recall being back in London. I remember missing a flight. I couldn't get another flight. I'd screwed up. No more flights that day. How did I get on holiday if I missed the flight?
Thinking back to the holiday, I'd had little sleep. I loved the clubs, bars and nightlife, and then seeing the sunrise each morning. Good times were happening. I didn't want to rest. The beach was calling.
Besides, trying to go to sleep in the morning after sunrise as the day warmed up didn't always work. Each night was fuelled by the equivalent of what felt like a month's supply of alcohol, plus cocaine (not a normal drug for me).
At some point *Note, this is a point of critical failure* I started thinking that I felt better without any sleep. So with zero sleep, or very close to it, the party life continued. Around this point my body must've been ready to quit. It would work for a while longer.
Gathering my messy-self together, I ventured out of the room on an exploratory mission. I found some people gathered and chatting.
I spoke to a girl (lady) that told me she had a heroin addiction. She was receiving treatment in the halfway house. Nice lady. I was in some kind of hospital. Why have I ended up in hospital?
My leg ached. I spoke with staff. They were generous with my medication. I was given some crutches.
Flights
Image thanks Marco Tjokro
Thinking how I missed my outbound flight from London, I realised it was a personal fumble that I'd done on my own. This begged the question, why was I flying alone?
Plotting bits of memories and what the doctors had told me, I began to form more of a story. The missed flight was a second flight to the same destination.
Towards the end of the holiday I'd met a beautiful girl. And it seemed cupid had fired some arrows. Cupid was a very good shot. When the end of the holiday arrived, we knew the relationship would continue. We just weren't sure how.
By the end of the holiday, I was massively sleep deprived. On the flight back to London, I didn't sleep a wink. I was some kind of wired.
I returned to work as a zombie with a suntan. I didn't know it, but my mind had officially taken leave (some kind of leave of absence, or sick leave perhaps). My next actions were fuelled by love and an absence of logic.
Having just returned from a holiday, I spoke to my boss about taking additional leave to go back and help my new lady pack. With approval, I booked a flight for the next day.
I was overtired and disorganised. I missed the flight. I would end up flying a day later, still very sleep-deprived.
Airborne
Image thanks Jacky Lo
Looking around the plane, things seemed pretty normal. I was definitely some kind of wired. I was beyond tired and hadn't been able to sleep. I was excited to be going back to be with the new girl I'd met. All seemed good.
During the overnight flight, I recall gazing across the cabin and watching a bit of a movie being showed from a ceiling mounted screen. I didn't recognise the movie. I'd been watching a movie on the seat in front.
The cabin movie had a naked guy riding a motorbike. Hmmm strange... This seemed a bit odd for the family environment in an aeroplane cabin.
I struggled to make sense of the customs declaration requirements. Touching down in the land of bliss, I went through the 'Something to Declare' customs channel. I didn't fancy having my £15K in cash nabbed.
The reason for having £15K in cash is significant, I will explain it later. I had never carried £15K in cash on an overseas trip. And there wasn't much of a compelling reason for this being the first time.
As I entered customs, I considered I hadn't slept properly for about 3 weeks. I was massively overtired, and loved up as I was on my way to meet my new missus.
The friendly customs representative advised the cash was OK. He also commented that he liked my sunglasses. While on holiday, I'd bought multiple pairs of sunglasses. I gave him a new pair of sunglasses.
Buying my flight last minute, I hadn't been able to get a direct flight. I now had to contend with getting an internal flight to complete the journey. I spent hours at the airport wondering if, and when, I could fly.
I finally got a plane ticket. And the annoyingly vague or confusing SMS messages I'd been sending to my good lady could stop. Yes kids, no messaging apps then, just SMS. It's traumatic for me to recall the limited old technology we had at that time.
Laser Show Security
Hospital staff provided some explanations on how and why I got to be there. This would take a little time to progress. They suggested, and encouraged with powerful tablets, that I maximise sleep and rest.
I recall waking up on the first or second night. The room was in pitch black darkness. There were no blue skies or sun streaming through. I lay in bed feeling heavy in mind and body. I needed to pee.
While waiting and summoning the energy to get up and pee, I was in for a surprise. A light show suddenly began in my previously dark room. As a bit of a connoisseur to a good EDM night out, I was no stranger to lasers.
I watched in disbelief as the most incredible display of laser lights filled the room. [I don''t recall there was any music, but the light show was better than I''d ever seen in London clubs, or anywhere else].
I still needed to pee.
As I got out of bed, I realised the lasers were a security or monitoring system for the hospital [or so I thought]. I had to make it to the bathroom by climbing over, through, and round the lasers. And do so with a busted leg.
I'm not sure how long it took me to cover the 4m to the bathroom, but it wasn't quick. My bladder was bursting. I was so relieved to reach the bathroom.
I've put this clip below as it somewhat represents my challenge to reach the bathroom. I haven''t seen this movie.
Later I realised there was never any real laser display. My mind had created that laser show. My mind had been behaving unusually. My mind was also still trying to process my admission story provided by hospital staff
