Dialogue with a pervert—a true story

Kristian Isringhaus
The South Pacific Ocean between Mo’orea and Raiatea
08152011, 1530 local time/08162011, 0300 GMT

Characters:

Eruni, a Polynesian dude in his forties, I might have got the name wrong.
Wynne, a 25 year old hitchboater girl from Virginia
Me, a 33 year old hitchboater dude from Germany

Setting:

Late evening, it is dark. A small, light weight, two person tent on a beautiful beach in Mo’orea, French Polynesia. Outside, it’s raining. Wynne and I are inside the tent. With two huge backpacks along one side and two persons the tent is crammed full. A half hour earlier, Eruni has asked if he can sleep in the tent with us. We have explained to him that there is no room. Later on we have heard him creep around the tent. He has explained that he intends to sleep right outside the tent. He is very stoned.

Note:

The dialogue actually happened and is reiterated here to the best of my memory. It was held in French. The simplicity of Wynne’s and my sentence structure is due to our difficulties with that language rather than an equal simplicity of cerebral capacity. When Wynne and I speak in English with each other, it shall be marked by a preceding (engl.).

Eruni:  (from outside the tent) Chérie [French for ‘darling’/’honey’, the author]?

Inside the tent, Wynne and I sit up, alarmed, and turn on a headlamp. I check on my machete, make sure it is well within reach on top of the backpack.
Me:  What?
Eruni:  Chérie?
Me:  What do you want?
Eruni:  I’m cold.
Wynne:  Sorry to hear that.
Eruni:  It’s raining.
Wynne:  Sorry to hear that.
Eruni:  Can I come into the tent?
Me:  There is no room.
Eruni:  Can I come into the tent?
Me:  There is no room.
Short pause.
Eruni:  I’m cold.
Wynne:  Sorry to hear that. There is nothing we can do about it.
Eruni:  It’s raining.
Wynne:  Why don’t you go to the pavilion of the sailing school? You’d be dry there.
Eruni:  Can I come into the tent?
Wynne:  Why don’t you go to the pavilion of the sailing school? You’d be dry there.
Eruni:  Impossible.
Wynne:  Why?
Eruni:  It’s forbidden.
Wynne:  It’s forbidden to sleep under the open pavilion when no one is there?
Eruni:  Yes.
Short pause.
Eruni:  Something in French that Wynne and I don’t understand.
Me:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  The same thing in French.
Me:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  The same thing in French.
Wynne:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  I want to sleep in the tent next to you.
Me:  There is no room.
Eruni:  You guys are not nice.
Me:  We shared our dinner with you. There is no room in here.
Eruni:  Polynesians are nice. Polynesians would let me sleep inside.
Wynne:  (angry) What do you mean we are not nice? We would love to help. We always help people. out there is no room in here.
Eruni:  Can I come sleep in the tent with you two?
Wynne:  (silent sigh)
Me:  (the same)
Eruni:  (something in French we don’t understand).
Me:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  (repeats without trying to alter the words or enunciate).
Wynne:  I don’t understand.
Long pause.
Eruni:  I’m cold.
Me:  Can’t you ask someone else to stay at their place? Someone with a house?
Eruni:  No.
Wynne:  Why not?
Eruni:  Can I sleep next to you in the tent?
Wynne:  Can’t you hitchhike home?
Eruni:  You guys are not nice. Polynesians are nice. You guys are not nice.
Wynne:  We would love to help but we can’t.
Eruni:  Can I sleep in the tent with you guys?
Me:  There is no room for three.
Eruni:  Please?
Me:  I’m sorry.
Eruni:  Please?
Me:  I’m sorry.
Eruni:  (louder) What are you guys doing camping here on the beach? That’s forbidden. You must leave.
Wynne:  We are leaving tomorrow.
Eruni:  (something in French we don’t understand).
Me:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  (the same thing in French without any effort to enunciate or alter the words).
Wynne:  I don’t understand.
Long Pause.
Eruni:  You can’t stay on this beach. It’s illegal.
Wynne:  We asked people.
Eruni:  Who?
Me:  The man in the tourist information.
Eruni:  It’s illegal.
Wynne:  We are leaving tomorrow.
Eruni:  Can I come sleep in the tent with you two? Next to you? I’m cold.
Me:  There is no room. We would love to help.
Eruni:  You can’t camp here. It’s illegal. You must leave now.
Me:  Now?
Eruni:  Yes.
Wynne:  We are leaving tomorrow anyways.
Eruni:  You must leave now.
Me:  (engl., whispering to Wynne) He won’t leave, so we have to. We won’t get a second of sleep if we stay here. I don’t want to sleep with him creeping around there.
Wynne:  (engl.) Now? It’s ten PM. Where the fuck would we go?
Me:  (engl.) I don’t know. But we can’t stay here.
Wynne:  (engl.) I guess we could still find a pension this late. Or go bang on the door of the store owners.
Me:  (engl.) Or we could yell Phillippe’s name and see if he’s still awake.
Eruni:  You must leave now.
Me:  Okay, we are leaving. Okay? We are packing our stuff right now.
Wynne:  (angry) You suck. We shared our dinner with you. We were nice to you. Who are you? The police? Who gives you authority to tell us to leave? We are leaving tomorrow anyways.
Eruni:  You are leaving tomorrow anyways?
Wynne:  Yes.
Eruni:  Oh, I didn’t know that. You don’t have to leave now.
Me:  We don’t?
Eruni:  No. Can I sleep in the tent with you?
Me:  There is no room.
Wynne:  It is physically impossible for you to fit into this tent with us.
Eruni:  Do you guys want to have a threesome with me?
Me:  No.
Eruni:  (something in French that we don’t understand)
Me:  I don’t understand.
Eruni:  Can I sleep right here outside your tent next to you?
Wynne:  (still angry) Do what you must.
Eruni: I’m cold.
Me:  Ask someone else to stay at their place.
Eruni:  Do you guys have something I can cover myself with? I will give it back in the morning. I promise.
(I start digging through my backpack)
Wynne:  (engl.) What does he want? I didn’t get what he said.
Me:  (engl.) Something to cover himself with.
Wynne:  (engl.) I have my sweat shirt somewhere here.
Me:  (engl.) Don’t. You don’t believe for a second that he is ever gonna return anything. I got an old white one-dollar-t-shirt and we have those cheap plastic rain ponchos.
Wynne:  (engl.) They are at the very bottom of my backpack.
Me:  (engl.) If that shuts him up?
Wynne:  (engl., angry) Fine!
We pass an old white t-shirt and a plastic rain poncho under the tent’s rain fly.
Me:  Here’s a t-shirt and a plastic thing to cover yourself with.
Eruni:  Thanks.
Me:  Welcome.
Eruni:  (thinking to himself as he is getting up to leave the camp) Damn, no threesome. I don’t understand—my strategy was flawless. Begging and threatening at regular intervals, supported by occasional insults, random repetitions and some gibberish to distract them. How did that not make them want to bone me? Hmpf. Well, at least I scored a t-shirt and a rain poncho. And I’m gonna snag this bikini top as well.
Eruni leaves with the t-shirt, the poncho, and Wynne’s bikini top that he snags from under the rain fly.