Amy and I stopped for a break, leaning against a rock and drinking water. It spilled down our chins, wet our chests. My cheeks were hot, my nose burnt. We had spanned three beaches and three swaths of jungle now, hot white sand becoming climbing orange trails, groves of coconut trees. Jungle, sea. Jungle, sea. Jungle, sea. We hadn’t seen anyone in hours.
He came dancing up the trail, headphones in his ears. He was singing Johnny Cash. He looked like Johnny Cash, thick sideburns, impish smile. In no time flat, we were all friends, posing for pictures, swapping stories. Soon, we set off.
His name was Milo, and he told us he was thinking about buying property in Thailand.
“I just saw some abandoned bungalows on the next beach over,” he explained. “I think I wanna buy ‘em!”
He told us he wanted to build a posh resort on the land.
“I’m gonna call it Seven,” he said. “It’s gonna have seven bungalows, with seven rooms in each! There will be seven steps leading up to the porches, and…”
“What inspired you to create a resort in Thailand?” I asked.
“I wanna impress a girl,” he said, without skipping a beat.
I was still curious. “And how is that going to impress a girl?”
He looked at me like I was crazy.
“Well, wouldn’t you be impressed if some guy invited you to Thailand to stay at his resort?!” he asked.
I just smiled.
Later, when we reached the deserted beach, Milo started peeling off his clothes.
“Oh, I’m sorry ladies, I hope you don’t mind,” he said, stepping out of his shorts. He was suddenly, gallantly naked.
“I’m going skinny dipping!”
He walked into the sea, poofy hair blowing in the wind, and I had to laugh.
I got great pictures 😉