by Jordan Mcmullen

Published story found here:  http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/360/projects/pocketdocs-2013/4950748

A week in Bali entails myriad stupid decisions and the high possibility of something unorthodox and crazy happening, this is something I’ve kept close to the chest, but is something that has to be told.

One night, in a highly inebriated state, I had suddenly gotten into a petulant mood and decided to walk off.

It’s probably important to state this was not a sensible decision, one man, in a very vulnerable state of intoxication, roaming listlessly through the streets of Bali.

There are blurry memories of dark alleyways, sexual propositions from men on motorcycles and groups of people accosting me from a distance.

I, thank god, had ignored all my visceral impulses and continued along a path into the abyss of the Bali nightlife.

Not once did it occur to me to call a friend, to figure out my actual location, or to ask someone for some sort of direction.

Continuing on this drunken stagger bright lights and loud noises suddenly caught my attention; I had stumbled into the presence of the Sheraton hotel near the main Bali strip.

An adventurous man, I decided to try my luck and walk around the hotel. Apparently the security at the Sheraton is non-existent, as I managed to not just enter the premises but then walk to nearly every level banging on different room’s to ask “where’s the party at?”

Safe to say I disrupted several families and couples, 11 at night pretty early for most of the crowd I was searching for.

Investigating all the levels, walking through all the brightly lit hallways, trying every door handle like it was some sort of mystery game show, I reached the pinnacle of my escapade.

The final door, and only one I reached that I could open from my side, lead out onto the unexceptional roof of the hotel.

Walking out into the humid air that plagues Bali life sobered me up for a second. Here I was, standing on top of a hotel, in a foreign country, disrupting potentially hundreds of people, and I was standing like an idiot at a dead-end where I would surely be killed or some other sort of ridiculous punishment for my drunken cacophonic actions.

Needless to say the scenic view of the city was quickly replaced with stairwell after stairwell as I decided escaping and getting back to my hotel, retreating away for several days, was my top priority.

Again out of the hotel like a flash, security really needs to be strengthened there or something, and I see a green, stationary SUV; rational move is to commandeer says drunk me.

Swiftly into the unlocked car I go, luck’s on my side tonight, lights are now turned on, I’m a pro at manual, how hard can this be?

Apparently very hard.

After revving the car for what seems like minutes, but was probably seconds in reality, I start hearing noises, again maybe that was paranoia setting in but I was sure I was going to prison.

Right before I jump out of the car and make a roadrunner down the street I see something orange on the dashboard.

Maybe it’s because I had a carnal hunger for food, maybe it was because I love mandarins, either way I grabbed that badboy and bolted.

Conveniently enough it fit perfectly in my pocket.

The silver lining?

I may have had the craziest night of my life, but that mandarin was the best snack I could imagine while hiding away in my hotel waiting for newspaper reports of “Crazy Westerner harasses hotel guests and attempts grand theft auto, bounty hunters enroute.”