Falling from a balcony is a sad tradition for farangs in Thailand. The usual causes are suicide, drunkenness, or shoddy construction. Usually the latter is avoided by blaming the cause of death on the first two to avoid any legal repercussions for the building owners. A spate of falls this week took the lives of four tourists and left two brothers near-death in Koh Samui. The owners of the resort have offered to repair the damaged balcony without any charge to the injured boys’ family.
Years ago in London I met a young man at a bar. He walked with the aid of two canes. After several drinks he explained that he had thrown himself off the roof of Harrods into the garden of his girlfriend’s house.
“I wanted to show her that she had made a mistake in leaving me.” The fall should have killed him, instead it left him crippled for life.
“And did she.”
“No, she moved away, but I was determined to complete this task and jumped off Harrods again.”
“Obviously without success.”
“I hit a tree on the way down. It broke my fall and most of my bones. I think I’m done with jumping for the moment.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“I’ve heard that you pass out before impact.” Sort of a safety measure of the consciousness. “Is that true?”
“Not for me. I felt the impact both times. Like getting swatted by King Kong. An upper cut.”
He hobbled out of the bar and I never saw him again, but I think about him every time I find myself on a high balcony looking down. Nothing is certain. Not even a drop of twenty stories.