From the Tagalog word “kaladkad” meaning “to drag”, so “kaladkarin” would mean “draggable”, which is probably a word now that Apple has made things draggable, that is, “easy to drag”.

Yep, that would be me.

I’ve always had a lot of free time. I never liked working so I’d take a lot of time off in between jobs. And then, for the longest time, most of my business was conducted over the phone or the internet so I wasn’t tied down to any place at any time. I just had to be ready to pick up the phone and be bright and alert at any time of the day or night, even when I didn’t know what year it was or what planet I was on.

So whenever I had a friend who was also in between jobs or who had just breezed into town for a few days, I’d be one of the first ones they’d call to hang out with because they knew that, well, (1) it was almost certain that I wasn’t working and (2) that I’d be up for almost anything.

Fishing trip at 4 AM? I’ll meet you at your place at 3:45.

Salon appointment at 10? She rang at 6 AM to tell me this. I told her I was broke. Her treat, she said. I dragged my ass out of bed, stuffed it into some sort of public transportation and had soft, shiny hair by 11 AM.

If I have the time and the means for anything that sounds like fun, it’s more likely than not that I’ll say yes.

I learned my lesson from my travels with my ex. There were two instances (one in France and the other in Italy) when I refused to go out with him and his friends because, well, I told them I was tired and wanted to rest but the truth is that I was sulking and being a brat. The end result, of course, is that they went to some very cool clubs and came crawling back in the wee hours of the morning, totally smashed but reeling from a good time, while I tossed and turned and, generally, made myself more and more miserable as the night wore on.

Idiot, right?

After that, I never wanted to regret not doing something again.

When I worked as a travel writer, my editor would call me for jobs no one else would take.

I remember taking a call while Nicolas and I were on a skiing holiday in Avoriaz. (He was skiing. I was trying to stay alive.) I could barely hear her on the line. Some far flung place that had a problem with communist rebels. They were opening new flights so she wanted me to check out the place for its tourism potential. Sure, I’ll do it.

I also said yes to Zamboanga and Tawi-Tawi after some mayor had just gotten kidnapped in the region so I was given a police escort while I was there. (I didn’t want the escort. I thought it called more attention to me. As if my sunglasses and high-heeled wedges didn’t scream “STRANGER!” loud enough.)

When I worked for a media company, the first job they dangled in front of me was Greece. Then they packed me off to Nigeria. I didn’t mind. Growing up in the Third World had prepared me for scenes of extreme poverty and violence. Anyhow, I had a blast-and-a-half when I was there. (Literally. The armory caught on fire and exploded while I was hanging out at a friend’s beach house, drinking champagne on a Sunday afternoon.)

For being such a trooper, the company said they’d send me off to Turkey next. I ended up back in Nigeria and then got sent to every other place after that that was neither Greece nor Turkey. Before I left the company, there was talk of Croatia but I could hear murmurs of Sudan in the background. I didn’t mind either one but, by then, the company and I were done with each other.

When Alan asked me to go with him to Bangkok last year, I said yes even if my credit card was bursting at its limit. I booked the flight anyway. I’m of the mindset, “Book it and it (the money) will come.”

Okay, so maybe I had to sell what little stocks I had for pocket money and to pay off some of my debt, but I made it! Of course, I spent more than double what Alan did, and I didn’t even shop or eat at any place fancy.

That’s typical of me though. I don’t know the value of money when it isn’t in pesos. And I don’t believe in scrimping when I don’t have to. Even if I have to.

I once ran out of cash in Goa and borrowed money off a friend to tide me over. We ended up spending it all at the Saturday evening market, with her borrowing back the money she had loaned me. We were so screwed. It’s a good thing I got my credit card to spit out an advance at the local ATM the next day.

Shortly after I returned from Bangkok on that trip with Alan, I got a message from Angeli, a friend living in Singapore. I had sent her a message a few months earlier about the possibility of going to ZoukOut, but quickly forgot about it, simply because I really was in no position to be traveling. She asked if I was still up for it. I checked the bank account. I hadn’t paid off my entire credit card debt so I still had money left over from the stock sale and I could swing a free airline ticket… I said yes.

By the time I got back to Manila, I was deeply embedded in the red. I had maybe P100 to my name and couldn’t leave the house for a few days until, well, until there was money in my account again.

I didn’t regret it though. I had an absolute blast hanging out with Angeli and we got to be better friends in the process. I got to watch “Wicked”, which restored my faith in musicals (after it was so horribly ruined by “Mamma Mia!” in London). We got massively wasted at a new club, ate some amazing food, I made a new friend and, best of all, we got to dance to the music of some of the best DJs on the planet. All of that in just one weekend.

Of course, there are things that wild horses could not drag me to.

For instance, one thing I absolutely do not regret skipping out on was visiting Karni Mata, that Rat Temple in India. Yuck. Gross. Shudder. I waited in the car with the driver while Susan and our other friend, Debra, went in. They could have come back with Disney-esque stories and award-winning National Geographic footage, I wouldn’t have cared. There was absolutely no way you could get me anywhere near that place. Character-building? Please, I have enough character to cast an entire Bollywood film.

I didn’t have to wait very long. Sue and Deb came back and drenched themselves and everything they owned in hand sanitizer, wishing they hadn’t gone in.

I should always trust my instincts and say no to certain things. The objective is to have fun, not get myself killed. While new experiences are good, death is a little too permanent for my liking. (I have commitment issues.)

After being stranded by a storm in Bohol, a million moons ago, Nicolas wanted to go on a night dive. I should have declined. I had been out karaoke-ing with the locals till four in the morning and, by 9 AM, was already interviewing the Governor for a magazine. So, not only was I hungover, I was tired and sleepless to boot. But Nicolas was already unhappy with me for having stayed out so late that I didn’t dare wimp out on the dive.

The storm had wreaked havoc on the sea and the waves were huge. We did a shore entry and had to battle the waves on the surface to get to the dive site so, by the time we deflated our BCDs, we were already exhausted.

While it was much calmer underwater, the storm had kicked up the sand and visibility was next to nil. I got disoriented and couldn’t tell up from down. My mask started filling with water. While attempting to clear it, I shot up in the dark.

A quick ascent means a rapid change in pressure which can cause decompression sickness (also known as “the bends”), which can lead to paralysis and, in extreme cases, death.

It’s a good thing Nicolas was watching out for me and was able to grab me and bring me back down because, from my vantage point, I could tell from the divemaster’s flashlight, that he was going on about the dive, unaware that he had lost both of us for a while there.

Yeah, I definitely learned from that one. At least, I got a story out of it.

When faced with several options, I usually like to go for the one that’ll give me the best story to tell afterwards.

Some years ago, while climbing up a mountain in Sagada to watch the sunset with a group of friends, Chelu and I ran out of steam halfway up and declared “Sunset, shmunset. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” We knew though that everyone else would come back down with stories about the spectacular sunset that we missed, so we decided to have a better story to tell when they returned.

We set up a scene of a fake ambush: backpack’s contents strewn along the path, a wayward slipper and various personal effects tossed casually aside. And, as we waited for our group to descend, we hid in the bushes, camouflaging ourselves with leaves and twigs in our hair, trying to pretend we were tarsiers in the trees. We were laughing so hard the entire time that we never did hear about that sunset. The group was laughing together with us at our tale and none of them told us that they had a better time than we did.