Harrowing 1st Hand Account Of Tsunami

[ayakiawe]

This is what you call "shit hitting the fan"!

Portland - Independent Media Center (IndyMedia)

HARROWING 1ST HAND ACCOUNT OF TSUNAMI

author: expat in Thailand

An email from a dive instructor in Thailand. It is the best - and most

harrowing - description of the tsunami I've seen. Incredible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting around, day after Christmas, just staring at the TV, some movie

we've seen before. Mid-morning, post-breakfast stupor controlling Karin

and me. The power flickers and we moan. We'll have to get up and do

something? Then we hear some yelling outside.

I look out the front door, still puffed up with pride about our new

house, just 400 feet back from the beach. People are running up our

street yelling. It looks like a fire at the large two story resort that

effectively blocks our view of the beach. Smoke and dust coming up and

all these people.

Then a small line of really brown water comes rolling towards us. That's

weird. But I reckon it must be some strange full moon high tide. So we go

upstairs so we don't get wet. I look out the window and try and take some

pictures. There is a quiet rumble to it, like those white noise

generators that are supposed to help you sleep. The water is getting

higher and higher and then it destroys our friends cement bungalow! Then

our front door caves in, and then water is coming up the stairs! HOLY

SHIT. This was the last point my brain worked for a long time.

We try and throw a mattress out the window to float on, but the water is

rising too fast, and out the window we climb. It's all going so fast.

It's faster than conscious thought and by the time we are on our second

story roof, the water is coming out the window. We jump.

Karin doesn't jump at the same time or did I jump too early? We're

separated. I scream her name, but the crashing roiling water mutes me. I

can't hear her. I scream and scream until I get hit by something and

pulled under. I can't swim to the top, I pull myself through trash and

wood to the surface and off I go.

Ahead are trees wrapped in flotsam and as I look a Thai guy is struggling

to get free of it, as I pass by at 30 MPH I realize he is impaled on a

piece of wood and can't even scream.

My brain shut down when Karin disappeared, and now all I can do is

survive. Something triggers and I swim. I swim to avoid the trees which

will trap me, possibly kill me. It seems that I am atop the crest of the

tsunami, which is less like a wave than a flood.

From on high I can see the water hit buildings, then rise, then watch the

buildings collapse into piles of concrete and rebar. I swim to avoid

these. Left and right I paddle, looking ahead the whole time trying to

figure the hazards. None of this is conscious, this isn't me thinking it

out, it's some recessed part of the brain coming out and taking control.

I was busy seeing the weird things, like massive diesel trucks being

rolled end over end. Or the car launched through the 2nd storey wall of a

former luggage shop. Or the person high up in a standing tree in a lurid

orange thong. Or the older foreigner that got stuck in the wood and steel

wrapped around a tree, and then his body torn off while his head

remained. I couldn't scream.

I was pulled under, my pants caught on something, I decided that this was

neither the place nor time for me to die, and ripped my pants off. I

surfaced into a hunk of wood which cut my forehead. A 5 gallon water

bottle sped by, and I wrapped myself around it like a horny German

Shepard on a Chihuahua. I was passing people with bleeding faces and

caked in refuse. Some people reached out to me, and I back, but the water

was too fast and erratic. Some people screamed for help and I told them

to swim. Some people just stared with empty eyes, watching what happened,

but seeing nothing. Some were just floating bodies.

At some point, I passed a guy, cut on his cheek, holding onto big piece

of foam. We just made eye contact and shrugged apathetically at each

other. Then I turned ahead to watch fate. When I looked back he was gone.

Trees were pulled down, and their flotsam added to the flow. I was hit by

a refrigerator and pushed towards a building that was collapsing. I swam

and swam and swam and swam and still was pushed right towards a huge

clump of jagged sticks and metal. I was pulled under, kicked towards the

mass, cut my feet and kicked again. I popped up on the other side, spun

around and pulled under again.

Down there, I knew it was not the time, and I pulled my way up through

the floating rubbish of my former town. I pulled and pulled and my lungs

ached for air. I flashed on Star Wars, the trash compactor scene, and had

some big grin in the back of head as I popped up. Sucking shitty water

and air deep in my lungs.

This went on for seeming weeks. Time simply left the area alone. I

grabbed the edge of a mattress and floated. Breathing, just breathing.

Awareness brought back by the sound and look of a water fall. Trying to

push up onto the mattress more and more, and it took my weight less and

less. Tumbling over the edge, sucked under again, and out I shot, swirled

into a coconut grove, where the water seemed to have stopped. There was

even a dyke like wall around the grove.

The water spun and churned, but went no where, and got no higher. I

wasn't swimming, or climbing, but something in between. I made my way to

the land. Every step had to be careful with broken glass everywhere, and

sheet metal poking out. It was a long slow struggle.

The low rumble had stopped, and now is the occasional creak of wood on

wood and metal scraping. Moans came across the new brown lake. A small

boy was in a tree crying, asking for his parents in Norwegian.

I climbed up onto the dyke and looked around. I screamed out for Karin,

only getting responses in Thai. I stood there, panting, trying to find a

thought, anything. As I came back to earth I needed to pee. The first

thing I did after surviving the tsunami was piss! Along limps an older

Thai guy, finds me, naked atop a dyke amid the destruction, covered in

mud and filth, pissing. He didn't even smile, nor did I.

I spent the next minutes running from high point to high point screaming

out for Karin. If I made it, she could too. There was no response from

her. I found plenty of other people, and helped who I could, but always

looking across this vast area of new lakes for her head.

Through the trees was a PT boat, a large steel police cruiser. The boat

and I had been brought more than a kilometer (2/3 mile) inland.

I was standing near a tree, hoping for a clue, anything to say she was

out there somewhere. A small boy in a tree whimpered, and I pulled him

down. We went inland. There were houses, still standing, a whole

neighborhood atop a rise that was untouched. Just feet away were cars

wrapped around trees. I handed them the boy.

I had finished my medic training exactly one month before, so I went to

work. Pulling people out of mud, from under houses. One car, upright

against the trunk of a tree still had the driver. He was dead. It went

on. Before this I had only seen a dead body once or twice. That was

remedied very quickly. I pulled people out of the water, only to have

them choke and die right there. I would take someone's pulse, scream for

help, then find that they had died before we could do anything. It was

beyond any nightmare or fear I have ever had.

An older Thai woman came up to me with a pair of shorts and averted eyes.

She was ashamed that I was totally naked. I smirked and slipped them on.

She smiled and scurried away.

Roaming the former streets looking for foreigners to send to the higher

ground, a place where we could all meet and tend to wounds. After an hour

the Thais came screaming out of the mud saying there was another wave

coming, and flying into the hills. We were left alone. Those that could

walk did, the rest were carried. We made a new base, higher and safer.

And the same thing happened again. And again.

Eventually we ended up in the jungle at a park, where there was water and

high ground. It was messy. Eventually there were about 300 foreigners,

about 120 of whom were injured pretty severely with broken limbs and

ribs, near-drownings, everyone had gashes of some kind, severed fingers

or toes and shock everywhere.

There was no medicine, no tools, no scissors, no bandages. Nothing but

well water (of questionable cleanliness) and some sticks and clothes. I

tried to find anyone medically trained. It was only the diving

instructors who all had basic first aid. So we cleaned with the water, we

broke sticks and set bones and talked people into a relatively calm

place. If someone was severely cut, we used their own clothing to mend

the wounds. It was a horror story. The floor was covered in blood, people

were moaning, or vomiting or asking us to help them. And more arrived

with every new wave of cars and trucks fleeing the "next wave".

After hours of this, we got news of helicopters evacuating the injured.

So everyone rushed towards the trucks. I had to scream and push and pull

people out of the way. The ones who needed the evac the most were the

ones who couldn't get to the trucks. After twenty minutes of sorting

through the priorities, and feeling like we had a handle on it, someone

brought me to a girl who was bleeding severely out of her thigh and was

in shock. No one had brought her to our little clinic area, they had left

her in the back of the truck.

Finally, after a few helicopters had pulled out the worst, I headed back

down. Through rubber tree plantations, and coconut groves we drove. It

seemed quiet and relaxed. At the last corner it was devastation. The road

was clear and dry up to a certain point and then it was a horizon of

rubble. I shuddered.

Someone on a scooter came up and asked for a doctor. Everyone looked at

me! I jumped on and they took me up roads I never knew existed, and over

bridges that were barely standing until I was brought to five foreigners

in the middle of nowhere. One of them was a good friend and diving

instructor. It was the first person I had seen that I knew. It was a

total joy. He was banged up pretty bad, but he got out and sent off to

the hospital. Then the Thais came roaring up the hill, saying there was

another wave. We had to carry four more people with broken bones

(including a broken hip) up a hill. There was no wave. There never was.

I stumbled back down, wandering through the town looking for people to

help. I found only bodies. I found one with a tattoo like Karin's on a

scooter under some rubble. I pulled her out, and it was a Thai woman.

Still griping her scooter, mouth agape.

Eventually I made my way back to the dive shop I worked at. We had always

whinged about how it was too far off the main road, but it survived. It

was a center for the survivors. I walked up to find friends alive and

things clean and organized.

I had been able to keep on, doing what I could to help people, to close

out my mind to what was around me and look only at what I was doing, to

not see the dead people, to not worry about where Karin was. I had held

together so well.

When I found out Karin was alive it all fell apart. I could smell the

destruction, the horror I had just walked through, just lived through,

that she had lived through. My body shouted out all the bruises and cuts

I had ignored. It all struck me and threw me to the ground. It was too

much. I could no longer accept this.

We hugged and ate and slept. My feet were cut up, I had small cuts all

over my body, and a sinus infection from all the bad water. Karin had

gotten hold of a coconut tree, wrapped herself around it and never let

go. She had a few bruises and small cuts and a black eye. I was ecstatic

to see her like that. First time I've been happy to see a woman with a

black eye.

Most of the rest of our friends had come through. They had set up first

aid stations and help stations, organized food and created a center for

people to meet. The diving community came together and became our

support, our medical care, our food - they did everything they could to

help and then some.

(snip)

The next day I went back to where my house had been and surveyed the

damage. One bungalow nearby had been lifted up and dropped on top of

another. The whole beach was visible, meaning all of the two or three

story hotels that had lined it were gone. There was a jet ski just near

our house. The bottom floor of our house was gone, the upper floor was

missing a couple of walls. The only thing left, was a plastic Jesus doll

I had bought as a joke. So I was left with nothing in the world except my

own plastic Jesus.

The level of destruction is virtually impossible to describe. On our

beach we had approx. 2500 hotel rooms. It looked to me, that maybe 50

could still be called hotel rooms. The week between Christmas and New

Year's is the busiest of the week. Without warning, without an evacuation

plan the survival rates were minimal. The wave at our house was about 7

meters high (20 feet) and in some places it was 10 meters (30 feet) high.

It wiped out the third floor of most resorts. The number of dead is

astronomical, several thousand on my beach alone. By the second day you

could smell it, and in the short walk to my former house, we passed about

10 bodies just strewn about.

Our final glance of the town was a cattle truck stacked full of wrapped

up corpses. We wanted to go home.

In Bangkok most people got help pretty quick. The Swedes, Germans and

English had charted flights for their citizens to get home. The Thai

government gave free hotel rooms to survivors and there were lists of

places to get food.

EXCEPT the Americans. I went in to find out what help I could get - I was

able to get a replacement passport, a toothbrush and a paperback book.

They said it was not their policy to arrange flights home. I was cut up,

still covered in a pretty good layer of mud, I had no home, no money, no

clothing (except some borrowed off Keith) nothing at all, and they could

do nothing to help.

They did offer to let me borrow money, but they would have to find three

people in America who would vouch for me, and that process should take

less than a week. In the mean time I was (screwed). I was destitute and

rejected by the embassy. Karin was with me (she's Swedish) and said that

I could still try and emigrate to Sweden. I was VERY tempted.

In these last days, watching politicians go on about helping and giving

aide, but they won't even take care of their own citizens? I am very,

very angry. All the other nations of the world were taking care of their

own citizens! Eventually I got a flight home with JAL (that would be

JAPAN airlines) not even an American company, but a JAPANESE company

helped me get home.

I am still listed as neither found nor alive. Before I left I had spoken

to the embassy twice on the phone, giving my name so I would be listed as

alive so my family would not worry. I went to the embassy twice, once to

get a passport to replace the one lost in the tsunami, and they never

listed me as alive or found. I flew out of the country using said

passport and am still not found. I went to the hospital three times, and,

as of yesterday I am now listed as injured (having been in the states

three days already). My family is now waiting to see how long it will

take before they are notified about my status. So am I.

It does raise a good question - if I am missing or dead, do I have to pay

taxes?

While spiteful about the embassy, I am grateful to be alive, and that

those I care about are still alive. I still look around and am in awe at

what just happened. I really feel like someone has slipped me some

roofies and I woke up in America.

by sfgary Thu Jan 6th, 2005 at 13:53:42 PST

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2005/1/6/165342/5432

[kat]

What an incredible story, and writer. There are no words for what happened.

Maybe more Americans need to come down on the Embassy for their shameful treatment of Americans and others.

[Tornado]

wow, that was chilling.

[onethailand]

A 5 gallon water bottle sped by, and I wrapped myself around it like a horny German Shepard on a Chihuahua.

I flashed on Star Wars, the trash compactor scene, and had

some big grin in the back of head as I popped up.

Too sensational for me. Perhaps the events are true - but the writing here does not remind me of someone who has just been through a massive tragedy.

[gburns57au]

A 5 gallon water bottle sped by, and I wrapped myself around it like a horny German Shepard on a Chihuahua.

I flashed on Star Wars, the trash compactor scene, and had

some big grin in the back of head as I popped up.

Too sensational for me. Perhaps the events are true - but the writing here does not remind me of someone who has just been through a massive tragedy.

Have to agree...

"Left and right I paddle, looking ahead the whole time trying to

figure the hazards."

He could do that, in what most people described as being inside an industrial washing machine....he must be a very strong swimmer.

Edited January 10, 2005 by gburns57au

[Tornado]

After rereading it, I tend to agree with both of you.

[britmaveric]

Well he did mention he was a diver, so this would explain the strong swimming aspects.

In his defense I'm sure that some creative writing was also employed.

[onethailand]

Well he did mention he was a diver, so this would explain the strong swimming aspects.

In his defense I'm sure that some creative writing was also employed.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

He'd have to be Shakespeare and Superman combined in order to be able to write an account like that. I am a creative sort myself but I smell super overkill here, diver or not.

Let me point you to the writing of another person who is very, very creative - and directly affected by the tragedy but in a different way - and see just how creative people are after things like this.

http://www.redcross.or.th/article/ploy.htm

Forget Star Wars... sheesh... I'm sorry if that person really did have those things happen to him but that account is just ridiculous.

as I pass by at 30 MPH

And &lt;deleted&gt; is this? Did he have a speedometer too?

Soon that 5 gallon water bottle (which, btw, is way too ###### small to support someone) will become an empty bottle of Singha water.

Edited January 10, 2005 by onethailand

[Sunbelt Asia]

Scroll down and see the picture of Paul from Coral Grand and his Gf Karin who wrote this article.

http://www.diveaid.co.uk/news.asp?n=050101...tsunami#content

This is Keith's story.

http://www.diveaid.co.uk/news.asp?n=041231...tragedy#content

[onethailand]

Scroll down and see the picture of Paul from Coral Grand and his Gf Karin who wrote this article.

http://www.diveaid.co.uk/news.asp?n=050101...tsunami#content

This is Keith's story.

http://www.diveaid.co.uk/news.asp?n=041231...tragedy#content

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Those two accounts look quite reasonable and straightforward - but I still think Paul's account is sensationalized.

Fortunately, all of them are ok - that's the most important thing.

[kat]

In my opinion, I think the term "sensationalized" is starting to become a bit overused. Paul's account is not written from an objective, journalistic viewpoint but from his personal experience. I think what many of you are reacting to is his style of a personalised internal voice, which in many's view makes for a good writer.

It's his story; he was there, you weren't. His friend Keith didn't survive the wave like he did, but was there as a person who helped pick up the pieces. Most journalists didn't survive the wave, either.

If you don't like his writing style, that's your business, but personally I think it's ridiculous that many of you start "rating" him based on his analogies. There's no doubt sensationalism exists in a news story, but this isn't a news story. Some reporters do trump up stories for selfish reasons. That is much different than the personal rendering of details.

[onethailand]

It's natural to examine the style of a story in determining how realistic it is - just the same as you would do for a movie or television show.

I have a background in journalism as well, as a business editor in fact. Had that story come across my desk, there's a pretty good chance it would have been canned.

[kat]

Well, then I would say what's good for business is not necessarily good for either first-person journalism, creative writing, or news journalism for that matter. That's why there are different editors for different genres. And many writers are thankful for that important detail.

[Boon Mee]

What an incredible story, and writer.  There are no words for what happened. 

Maybe more Americans need to come down on the Embassy for their shameful treatment of Americans and others.

The indifference shown Americans overseas by their embassies in whatever country has always pissed me off. And, as long as I still retain a US passport, I'm paying their salaries...

[gburns57au]

In my opinion, I think the term "sensationalized" is starting to become a bit overused.  Paul's account is not written from an objective, journalistic viewpoint but from his personal experience.  I think what many of you are reacting to is his style of a personalised internal voice, which in many's view makes for a good writer.

It's his story; he was there, you weren't.  His friend Keith didn't survive the wave like he did, but was there as a person who helped pick up the pieces.  Most journalists didn't survive the wave, either.

If you don't like his writing style, that's your business, but personally I think it's ridiculous that many of you start "rating" him based on his analogies.  There's no doubt sensationalism exists in a news story, but this isn't a news story.  Some reporters do trump up stories for selfish reasons.  That is much different than the personal rendering of details.

There are a lot of heroes in the affected areas.....most of them didnt write creatively about their experiences.

A lot of Aussies complained that their own embassy didnt act quick enough to help them either...A lot of people have high expectations of what can be done in an area that has just suffered one of the biggest natural disasters known to man. I pity these people that think about why the embassies didnt help them, Most of them relatively uninjured while many more were so seriously injured that they may not get home for months.

They are not heroes in my eyes.

Edited January 11, 2005 by gburns57au

[britmaveric]

Well embassy miscues are bound to happen - lets face it mass confusion was prevalent. They were ill prepared to deal with a disaster of this magnitude, so snafus in the beginning can be expected.

[Phil Clark]

This is what you call "shit hitting the fan"!

Portland - Independent Media Center (IndyMedia)

HARROWING 1ST HAND ACCOUNT OF TSUNAMI

author: expat in Thailand

An email from a dive instructor in Thailand. It is the best - and most

harrowing - description of the tsunami I've seen. Incredible.

SNIP

Had the account been "1ST HAND", it might be believable.

It clearly was not as it it was not written by the person concerned, given:

author: expat in Thailand

Someone out to profit methinks, as why did “expat in Thailand” not put his name to the story?

I wonder if:

Dive Aid 2005 is a Registered Charity?

Clearly not is my best guess and therefore open to scrutiny.

The basis of the tale may well be true, but I for one will not be sending them any money via PayPal as it could be going anywhere.

Perhaps this is a genuine effort to help by well-meaning people, but the whole way it has been presented smells of a scam.

Those behind the fund-raising initiative should be able to come forward and explain with ease, demonstrating their accountability. Otherwise, some cynics might believe that this is nothing more than an effort to rebuild a supposedly demolished Dive School at someone else’s expense or just make a fast buck.

I will reserve my judgement until such time as they each individually and openly 'expose' themselves.

Edited January 11, 2005 by Phil Clark

[Richard W]

Had the account been "1ST HAND", it might be believable.

It clearly was not as it it was not written by the person concerned, given:

author: expat in Thailand

Someone out to profit methinks, as why did “expat in Thailand” not put his name to the story?

I wonder if:

Dive Aid 2005 is a Registered Charity?

Clearly not is my best guess and therefore open to scrutiny.

The basis of the tale may well be true, but I for one will not be sending them any money via PayPal as it could be going anywhere.

Perhaps this is a genuine effort to help by well-meaning people, but the whole way it has been presented smells of a scam.

Those behind the fund-raising initiative should be able to come forward and explain with ease, demonstrating their accountability. Otherwise, some cynics might believe that this is nothing more than an effort to rebuild a supposedly demolished Dive School at someone else’s expense or just make a fast buck.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Interesting coincidence here. I was talking to the father of the site's 'designer and maintainer' this morning, who mentioned what was being done by his son in connection with 'Dive Aid'. I was not being pumped for funds; he did not mention the name of the fund. It definitely does not sound like a scam to me. He'd heard about the diver saving himself by taking off his trousers.

The matter probably only came up because our company was matching tsunami relief donations collected at the company's annual presentation of results, prospects and plans to staff.

[onethailand]

Well, then I would say what's good for business is not necessarily good for either first-person journalism, creative writing, or news journalism for that matter.  That's why there are different editors for different genres.  And many writers are thankful for that important detail.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Details involving German shepherds, chihuahuas, and Star Wars are not what comes to mind when floating in the middle of a fast-moving current as you try to stay alive and not get hit by something big.

This is not a genre we're talking about - unless you want to classify it as "Tabloid".

[kat]

Those details may not come to YOUR mind, Onethailand, but everyone tells a story differently. Just because you have a problem with the writer's style doesn't mean that the piece is tabloid material. I don't really have any personal feelings one way or the other what anyone else thinks about it. If you don't like the story, move on. I just don't understand why this writer then has to be judged as a liar, scam artist, or editorial inferior simply because they wrote descriptive piece.

There are plenty of writers that were judged to be inferior by editors like you that went on to win the Pulitzer and other literary awards. Editors have the job of taking the writer and slush out of a story, which is good for newspapers, but not necessarily for other writing.

Anyway, who cares.

[onethailand]

liar, scam artist, or editorial inferior

Please point out to me where I even *inferred* that this was a scam, or that the writer was a liar. These are your words, certainly not mine.

I pointed out that the article was "sensational" - end of story. Take my word for it - the next time you are in a harrowing situation, see if you think of "Star Wars".

[onethailand]

Ok, let's just sum this up - there's really no point carrying on about the motives of the writer.

The "story" is apparently an account of events being told between friends who know each other - and thus the apparent juicing-up of the story. This is evident in some of the other writings where people are being referred to by first names or nicknames, ie. Belgian Boy.

My comments are in regard to the fact that this account was printed in a New Zealand newspaper - with no apparent reference to the fact that this is a personal account being told between friends.

I stand by my comment that this is "sensationalism" as far as printing in a newspaper goes. As an account between friends, I can understand the desire to liven things up a bit.

[chuchok]

Ok, let's just sum this up - there's really no point carrying on about the motives of the writer.

The "story" is apparently an account of events being told between friends who know each other - and thus the apparent juicing-up of the story.  This is evident in some of the other writings where people are being referred to by first names or nicknames, ie. Belgian Boy.

My comments are in regard to the fact that this account was printed in a New Zealand newspaper - with no apparent reference to the fact that this is a personal account being told between friends.

I stand by my comment that this is "sensationalism" as far as printing in a newspaper goes.  As an account between friends, I can understand the desire to liven things up a bit.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

I don't know if I agree with you.There are too many journalists today are only too adapt at 'sensationalism".This goes for editors of some agencies as well. Sometimes articles like this are a breath of fresh air from some of the crap we are served up.

[onethailand]

Everyone likes to read a variety of things, can't argue with that.

But this account would have been still enthralling/harrowing/whatever without the references to dogs and Star Wars - just imagine riding a water bottle through a rapidly moving current - plenty of excitement there.

From the editor's perspective - he is supposed to provide news and facts, without opinion or embellishment. Assuming mainstream newspaper, of course. Not an easy task - it's not very hard to cross the line between factual journalism and yellow journalism - in fact, even in the US there are a number of mainstream papers which are considered "yellow" but subtle enough to fool most people into thinking they are impartial.

In the UK, they don't hide this fact - racy tabloids are the norm and everyone knows to take a grain of salt with most of those articles.

Me? Actually, I like reading tabloids In fact, I'm half-tempted to start one in Thailand - not quite up to the sensationalistic style of the UK tabloids, but interesting and loud nonetheless - besides which I hate the amount of table space I need to lay a broadsheet flat

Anyhow, that article would have been just fine in something like the Phuket Gazette, the Pattaya Mail, something really "local" where most people knew who Paul, Keith, Karin and Belgian Boy were.

[taxexile]

dont be too hard on this guy , if his story is true he survived an awful ordeal and helped others to as well.

as for the writing style, well he's a young american full of adrenalin , they all think life is one long audition for the hollywood lead in "how to save the world"...... well this guy got his chance and probably did a good job.

i think most people would have fought for their lives in exactly the same way in that situation and helped others to fight for their lives too .

anybody who has seen footage of the waves in aceh or phuket will know that his story is really not that pumped up , and apart from his amateur use of metaphors he describes his experience well.

[onethailand]

In its original context, I accept the story as an interesting read

Edited January 11, 2005 by onethailand

[Felt 35]

I belive the story is true, even if its a little "to well told"

I have heard similar stories from people ending up at the hospital, where I was helping out after the Tsunami hit.

[kat]

Well he did mention he was a diver, so this would explain the strong swimming aspects.

In his defense I'm sure that some creative writing was also employed.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

He'd have to be Shakespeare and Superman combined in order to be able to write an account like that. I am a creative sort myself but I smell super overkill here, diver or not.

Let me point you to the writing of another person who is very, very creative - and directly affected by the tragedy but in a different way - and see just how creative people are after things like this.

http://www.redcross.or.th/article/ploy.htm

Forget Star Wars... sheesh... I'm sorry if that person really did have those things happen to him but that account is just ridiculous.

as I pass by at 30 MPH

And &lt;deleted&gt; is this? Did he have a speedometer too?

Soon that 5 gallon water bottle (which, btw, is way too ###### small to support someone) will become an empty bottle of Singha water.

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You are suggesting that the writer is more creative than he is real. In terms of suggesting the writer is a scam artist, that was someone else on the thread. However, it is news to me that this account was submitted to a NZ newspaper. But if that is the case, the fault is with the paper not the writer.

I'm tired of arguing about subjective relevance anyway.

[kat]

...  it's not very hard to cross the line between factual journalism and yellow journalism - in fact, even in the US there are a number of mainstream papers which are considered "yellow" but subtle enough to fool most people into thinking they are impartial.

In the UK, they don't hide this fact - racy tabloids are the norm and everyone knows to take a grain of salt with most of those articles.

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However, I don't mind arguing about obvious biases. Are you arguing that the UK does not have any such subtle "yellow" or biased information in its mainstream news organizations? I really would like to hear you answer this one.

as for the writing style, well he's a young american  full of adrenalin , they all think life is one long audition for the hollywood lead in "how to save the world"...... well this guy got his chance and probably did a good job.

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Yeah, right, that's what all us Americans think. As we are all one race, one demographic, and one mind, as "all" Brits probably learned from watching too much Hollywood, or better yet, BBC World News.

Edited January 12, 2005 by kat

[taxexile]

Yeah, right, that's what all us Americans think. As we are all one race, one demographic, and one mind, as "all" Brits probably learned from watching too much Hollywood, or better yet, BBC World News.

i forgot to add that many americans , although having overdeveloped adrenal glands may also be found to have a deficiency of irony and humour.

probably from watching too much fox news and opra winfrey..... and not enough bbc.