I glanced at my wristwatch. It was already 1:30 a.m.
You’ve gotta be kidding me, I thought.
I was in my tiny cot inside a boat bound for Cebu. I took the overnight trip since I needed to be in Cebu early in the morning for a meeting. I was already asleep when I was woken up by what sounded like people being strangled. It was then I realized that a couple of the passengers were snoring in their sleep. Loudly.
At first it was just one person snoring. Then one more, and a few moments later three more, decided to pitch in their vocal talents. It’s pretty hard to describe how they sounded. It was like a combination of belching, strangling and whistling sounds on repeat mode. At times it sounded like a car gunning up.
If this were a contest of “So You Think You Can Snore?” or “Who Wants To Be The Loudest Snorer?”, all four of them would walk away with a prize.
The other passengers started waking up, roused from their sleep by the snoring choir. Some giggled. From the other cots I heard snickers and snorts of disgust. But no one attempted to go over and shake the snorers awake. I think the only people who actually slept that night were the four snoring men.
I tried hard to go back to sleep because I didn’t want to be nodding off to sleep in the middle of the meeting the next day. Ordinarily, the hum of the ship’s machine as it treads the ocean would lull me to sleep. But who can sleep in the middle of a racket like this?
Maybe we need a new policy for overnight boat trips: “NO SNORING ALLOWED.”
Okay, that’s mean. People who snore can’t help themselves. It’s a medical condition, after all.
But how then can one deal with situations like this? Just let it go since it’s only one night of not enough sleep, which you pay for the whole day next day by being irritable and tired?∗