Everyone loves pigeons. They’re nature’s comedians and very popular with children and the elderly, so when I had a chance to go snorkelling at Pigeon Island, Sri Lanka, I grabbed it with both hands. The opportunity, not an actual pigeon, just to be clear.
I jumped on a boat full of happy-faced Asians (you can’t miss them on the main stretch of beach at Uppuveli) and headed out there. The snorkelling was good, if not completely awe-inspiring. Pigeon Island provides a decent number of fish – big blue ones, little yellow ones, and everything in between – and some nice coral as soon as you get away from the area where tourists have killed it all. The water is a bit churned up, so visibility isn’t great, but it’s certainly a good place to paddle around for a few hours.
There were plenty of jellyfish flopping around like idiots, and I even managed to get stung by some bizarre orange coral. I didn’t die, but I went close. It really was a very pleasant way to spend my last day in my adopted home of Uppuveli, and a trip to Pigeon island is highly recommended for anyone in the area.
I was feeling a little bit cheeky, so I decided to pull my shorts down and take a few photos with my bum out. Oi, don’t judge me, it’s a normal thing for a 33-year-old fella to do. Anyway, I was showing my bottom off and having a fantastic time when I turned around and saw a group of Sri Lankan children snorkelling nearby and shaking their heads in disgust. I went after them to explain what I was doing, but they turned around and swam off, and I felt that pursuing them any further would be asking for trouble.
I soon headed back to the beach, and as I neared the sand I noticed what can only be described as an angry mob huddled on the shore. They were shouting things out and punching the air with their fists, and as soon as one of them saw me he started pointing in my direction. I just assumed he was telling his mates there was a jellyfish in my general direction, so I strutted out of the water like a boss without paying him too much attention. Big mistake, baby.
As soon as I emerged a member of the mob – who were as angry and vocal as a group of first-year university students arguing the Brexit result – slapped the mask off my face, and the rest started jeering me and pushing me around. They thought I was a sex pest and I had only one option – run! I put my head down and plowed through the palm trees towards the boat, with the angry locals in hot pursuit. I could hear their footsteps and feel rocks and coconuts whizzing past my head, and I just kept on running like popular black man Usain Bolt.
When the captain of the boat saw me being chased by the gang he shouted for me to jump in the boat, and fired up the engine as I got closer. I was puffing and wheezing but managed to leap over the side, banging my ship badly and landing on top of a startled Asian woman. The captain spun the boat around and zipped us out of there, while coconuts and other shit hurtled into us thanks to the maniacs on the shore. I apologised to the Asian woman, but she responded with a passionate kiss, which would’ve been more romantic if her husband wasn’t watching on and cheering the whole thing.
When we made it back home the husband, Ian, asked me to have sex with his wife while he watched. I politely declined, but made plans to meet up with the wife later on when Ian was busy playing cards with some of his chums. All things considered, it was a good day.