A short story about misplaced confidence

I once found myself stuck in a hole. I’m not referring to being in a dark mental place, or describing a place of stagnation in terms of my life goals – my body was literally wedged in a hole in the ground. If you find yourself assuming that I mean only my arm or leg was stuck, or I that I must have accidentally fallen into some hidden crevice, you would be wrong. From the hip down, I was trapped in a hole that I had willingly climbed into and the reason I had done so was every bit as stupid as the predicament I had put myself in. The hole that had entrapped me was located in The Maze Bar In Da Lat, Vietnam.

The Maze Bar was a very unique drinking establishment. At first glance it seemed like any other tiki themed bar, but when you went down into what would usually be the basement, you would instead find a series of interconnected caves. The rocky maze beneath the bar was surprisingly pretty; in several places the walls had been decorated with elaborate carvings of brightly coloured sea creatures, and the multicoloured fairy lights that had been hung throughout the underground structure gave the whole experience a distinct dream like feel. There were multiple levels to the caves, and they were at times only accessible by dropping through literal holes in the ground.

The first time that I had gone to The Maze Bar, I had found a hole that led to a particularly beautiful cave. I had enjoyed the act of climbing through the hole, as well as the aesthetically pleasing pay off at the other end, so like an excited child I had climbed through the hole several times. It was because of this repetition that when I came to the same hole the following night, this time with a large group of traveller friends, I eagerly encouraged everyone to go through it.

One of the friends that I was with, a petite girl about half my size, stepped forward and declared the hole too small to climb through. I tried to reassure her that this was not the case, but after she attempted to stick both her legs through the hole and determined that it was too tight to do so comfortably, several other members of our group agreed with her. I wasn’t having any of it. Fuelled with confidence and the knowledge that I had gone through this very same hole the evening prior, I bent down and lodged my legs into the hole. Immediately, I noticed that it was a much tighter fit than I remembered, but I was not deterred. I wriggled and pushed until my legs made it through and then eventually my hips. It was at this point that I realised I was stuck. With half my body sticking out of the ground like an oversized badger, I announced to the group that I could go no further, nor could I free myself.    

In my defence, I had been drinking quite a bit; sometimes I even like to think that perhaps if I had been sober, I would have behaved differently, but honestly, I doubt it. Even through the haze of alcohol I distinctly remember thinking that if a girl half my size couldn’t fit through this hole, how could I? I also remember acknowledging to myself that I had gone through this hole at least 6 times before and it had never been this difficult, so perhaps something was different this time and I should listen to the group of people around me who were now all pleading for me to stop trying to get through the hole. No, the unfortunate truth is that sometimes I just really can be that stubborn.

After it became apparent that even with the assistance of my friends I couldn’t get out of the hole, someone went off and got the owner of the establishment, who set to work widening the hole’s opening with a hammer and chisel. When I was eventually pulled free from the hole, my jeans were torn in multiple places and my phone screen was thoroughly cracked. I stumbled forward mildly drunk, and almost immediately spotted the actually hole that I had gone through the night before, about two feet in front of me. I informed the wider group of my discovery and the cave filled with laughter. I couldn’t laugh with my friends then, due to my immense embarrassment, but I can laugh with them now, especially as the experience taught me a much-needed lesson: there is a point where healthy self-belief turns into the stubborn denial of reality, and we can’t always tell where that point is, but luckily that’s what we have friends and loved ones for.