Moon

The primary reason that Ko Pha Ngan is on the tourist itinerary is because of the monthly Full Moon Party. Depending on the month, anywhere from six thousand to twenty thousand people converge on this little rock for this huge beach blowout. Friends of mine warned me not to get my hopes up too high, as it's become a huge festival of foolishness over these past twelve years. "Tom, it's stupid, full of drunken gap-year kids, obnoxious israelis, and pushy hookers. Don't expect much. Check it out, but don't expect much." John said, "Tom, Haad Rin (the party locale) is a cross between a comedy of errors and the Village of the Damned."

It was awesome. I met a group of Brits in my guesthouse who were older than your average gap-year tykes and we all went together. Not the healthiest of pursuits, but once in a while, it's really good to get trashed and dance your ass off with thousands of your closest friends until dawn. All the bars along the beach set up huge sound systems facing the sea and you wander along the beach until you find the music you like, and there you are. If you hate techno, you'd hate the Full Moon with a livid passion, but I've never been accused of disliking techno. The basic party fuel is the ubiquitous buckets filled with ice, Red Bull energy drink, and hard alcohol. I think the legion of extra cops and the shoot-to-kill policy keeps the volume of illicits down.

The afterparty was actually even better. It felt like old times, a bit. I led the way walking off the end of the beach with my hands cupped to my ears, following the beats with my friends in tow. We came over a small rise and found a covered shelter with ten thousand watts of vicious techno and a hundred dancing people. It was a better party than the beach party because it was so much smaller. You'd circulate, dance with sa few people, move on, talk to someone else, but gradually assemble a gallery in your head of everyone present and never be lost in the throng. It's a nice feeling for a party.

One odd detail at the afterparty was a woman I was chatting with and dancing with for a while. Even though I told her I had blown all my cash, we were till dancing and hanging out. Same plac, different channel. Her name was Boong-Lee, and while she was clearly having fun dancing and hanging out, what was on her mind was making some money before the night was over. Her seven-year old was starting school the next day and all kind of expenses loomed on the immediate horizon. Yet, there she was dancing at dawn with me. Conflict of worlds, I guess? If you're a hooker you have to go where the money is. Throngs of girls come from Bangkok for the weekend, as well as two hundred extra cops from Suratthani to supplement the local force of fifteen men.

Lordy I was tired after my friends and I had called it a night. The jungle trek followed by all that dancing takes a toll.