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Shit.

Shit, no. Damn.

I searched frantically every pocket on my body. Then I checked again, because I couldn't find any pockets on my body. Damn.

I am wearing the nice new black trousers I bought in Bangkok and I just realised they don't have pockets in them yesterday. So obviously I couldn't be carrying the tiny little keys on their tiny little lock-keychain.

Damn. I searched again.

' I did it.' I say out loud

I checked myself again.

'Yep, I did it . . . Damn.'

Yes, I really did just lock us out of the bungalow.

Lisa can't believe it either. 'Oh, no. You're kidding, right?'

'No, I'm not kidding. We're locked out.'

It's dark. Luckily I chose to leave the single fluorescent light on inside our cabana, otherwise it would have been darker. Much darker.

OK. Think.

I know the small board between the roof and the wall comes loose. I found that out this afternoon while trying to hang the hammock and close line

I definitely don't have them do I? I look all around the wooden porch, hoping that perhaps I carried them out with me and laid them down somewhere.

My water is there. Luckily I carried that out or maybe we might have been dying of thirst!

OK. I can climb through that crack. I quickly stand up on the porch seat and yank the board loose, unwinding it from the clothesline wrapped around it.

I look. The space is approximately 10 to 12 inches wide. I can fit my head through and squeeze my chest through, then after that my butt will fit with a bit of yanking.

I look again. I stand on the bench and lean my head through the hole. I can see the keys on the bed. Lock out confirmed. Keys are inside the building.

I panic a bit. The hole is head height. Head height when standing on a two foot bench. There is nothing on the other side of the wall, just empty space. If I go in head first, I have nothing to lean against.

I peer inside. The wood joints of the cabanna-bungalow are unfinished, and where the roof meets the wall, there is a distinct area of open boards and joints.

I can, quote, easily, unquote climb through and pull myself across the room, in the air, and when my feet are free jump down.

I gaze at the keys.

Maybe I could throw something at them? Drag them off the bed? What's available?

I look at the bed and sight the mosquito net covering the bed. Have to aim the throw through that. No, never make it, and nothing to throw.

I start to try to climb through the hole.

Lisa looks at me. 'What're you doing?' she asks.

I tell her.

'Oh no you're not. You're crazy. No. Step down here and think about it a second.

'No, I've thought about it, and there's no other way. I'm climbing through here, so come over and give me a hand.'

'No. I will not. Come down here and let's think about this just for a second!' she retorts forcefully.

'I'm going through here with our without you're help!' I say testily. 'It would be easier with your help so I don't hurt myself, so come and help me!'

'No, you'll kill yourself. I won't help you.'

I begin to realise she is stalling me.

'What if we throw something at it?' she says.

I think.

I look again.

It would be better than getting myself scraped to bits and probably breaking something like my back.

I stick my head through the hole again.

The bed takes up one side of our bungalow. It goes from wall to wall, and has a large square mosquito net hanging above it. The net is stored by flipping the sides up and over onto the flat top of the net.

I can see the keys in the middle of the bed.

The hole is in the wall adjoining the foot of the bed, but at the opposite corner. So I have to throw something from the hole, across the room onto the bed, drag the small set of keys off to the floor.

I look at the floor. Wooden slats, loosely fitted. Space in between. Space enough for a small set of keys to fall onto the sand three feet below.

I look at the lovely carpet/blanket Tilasmi laid this morning to brighten up the place. Right next to the bed, nicely covering the slats.

I look at Lisa.

I think maybe if I pulled the keys off fast enough . . .

'Maybe,' I say, already moving.

I take the hammock down. It's easier than the clothes line due to the fact that one end of the clothes line was tied inside the hut.

Swiftly, one end of the hammock is down. Nylon rope, about one-third of an inch thick and five feet long quickly comes loose in my hand.

I need about nine feet of rope.

Quickly the other end of the hammock is disassembled.

Square knot. Two half-hiches (another type of knot) on each side. Test it. Strong and going to hold.

I look around the porch. Something to tie to it . . .

Sandals. New sandals, just bought today. Perfect for hefting through a gap, across a room, onto a bed and dragging keys with.

Quick tie with the rope. Another couple of half-hiches.I gently haft the device.

'OK.' I say.

The hole is high. I have to stretch to get my arm and shoulder through, but I am able to swing my arm slightly before hitting the corner wall.

I take the other end of the rope in my hand.

I throw the sandal with what momentum I can muster.

No where close.

Miles off.

I reel in the sandal. I give myself more rope. Again I try.

Hits the bed, bounces straight up and stops. A foot this side of the keys.

I look at the rope. I am going to have to hold the other end very close to the wall to have enough length to snare these suckers.

I toss the sandal again. Again the bed, but not far enough.

Again.

Made it.

I must look excited because Lisa says, 'Did'ja get'm?'

I grunt. Needing to concentrate.

I slowly pull the string tight.

The sandal slowly moves towards me. I hear the jingle of keys. I pull slowly. The shoe moves a foot, and there is no sign of the keys left behind. Good. Got them.

Nearing the end of the bed, I see the keys come loose.

Damn.

At least the keys are near the end of the bed.

I reel in my catcher, and throw again.

OK. Easy now.

I pull the keys to the edge of the bed.

I yank them. Attempting to propel them past the rug on the floor.

Clink. Clink.

The keys are on the floor!

'Go down there,' I say to Lisa.

She goes.

I pull the shoe to me.

OK. Just have to pull them six inches to the hole in the slats. Just six inches. Here goes.

Thump. The shoe falls to the floor behind the keys.

Perfect.

A gentle pull towards me.

Oh no!

I stop pulling. There is a cross beam beneath the floor slats just where I was going to pull the keys. If I pull them onto that, then I'll not be able to move them.

I give the sandal a short quick yank, hoping to pull the keys across that hole and into the next.

The little set of metal hops lightly across.

I wind up the sandal and toss again.

I drag the sandal across the floor and into the keys again. Gentle pull. Gentle.

Cling jingle. They're through.

'They're through,' Lisa shouts.

'We have them, we have them.' she trills gleefully, happily.

We have them.

Yes.

Yes.

We have them.

~~~~~~----0----~~~~~~

- by E.J. Clark
Koh Pha Ngan
01 Feb 00