A Solo Traveler's Singapore Nightmare: Lost at Ultra Music Festival
The longing to return home to India had never felt more intense. This wasn't a case of being stranded in Singapore years ago, but the events of that trip would have unfolded very differently under less fortunate circumstances. Here's the full story of what transpired during my visit to Singapore for the Ultra Music Festival.
The Setup: Ultra Singapore Adventure
Ultra Singapore, part of the global Ultra Music Festival series, is an outdoor electronic music extravaganza. I traveled with a local Indian Singaporean friend and several others from India. The festival had launched a couple of years prior, and we had meticulously planned this week-long trip for months. Passports and visas were secured, itineraries were set for outdoor activities and souvenir shopping, and excitement was at its peak.
On the day of the festival, we arrived early at the venue opposite the iconic Marina Bay Sands Hotel. The crowd swelled rapidly, transforming the space into a packed sea of festival-goers. The venue was fully prepared for the two-day electronic dance music event, featuring multiple stages, thousands of attendees, blinding lights, and heart-thumping beats.
The Crisis: Separation and Panic
Amidst the chaotic sea of people, I somehow became separated from my group. The incoming crowd and overwhelming sensory overload made it impossible to stay together. By the time I realized what had happened, it was too late—my friends were nowhere in sight. In a moment of sheer horror, I reached for my phone in my pocket only to remember I had entrusted my phone, passport, and purse to my Singaporean friend for safekeeping. She was supposed to give these items to her trusted driver.
Why didn't I carry my belongings? The festival had a strict rule requiring attendees to use only clear plastic bags for personal items. None of us had bothered to check the festival rules beforehand—a critical oversight that led to this predicament. So, there I was: everything I owned was with someone, somewhere, and I had no means to locate them.
Did I panic? Absolutely. Did I cry? Yes, profusely. After berating myself for such a foolish mistake in a foreign country, I found my way to the EXIT. It was already dark, and I knew finding my friends there was unlikely. I had no phone, no passport, no wallet—just an empty water bottle that was now useless.
The Search for Help
I walked out and recalled the landmark we had designated as a meeting point in case anyone got lost, a decision we had laughed about earlier. I reached a shopping complex, found a bench, and wept for a while. After nearly two hours of waiting, I contemplated going to the High Commission of India in Singapore. Sitting there, I prayed fervently for a solution, feeling utterly hopeless and confused.
In a desperate move, I approached two South Asian-looking gentlemen and asked to use their phone to call my friends. In my distraught state, I had forgotten that I didn't know their phone numbers. My heart hoped for a miracle as tears continued to flow. The two men, initially confused and awkward, eventually calmed me down and listened to my story. I explained I was from India, and they revealed they were from Bangladesh.
Unexpected Kindness
They asked if I remembered my hotel, which I did. After checking cab fares on their phones, they handed me some Singapore Dollars. When I appeared too bewildered, one of them, Mr. Irfan Hossein, offered to accompany me in a cab to ensure the money sufficed. These weren't tourists but Bangladeshi workers in Singapore with limited funds, as I later learned.
Despite my usual advice to solo female travelers—never get in a cab with a stranger in a foreign city—I was afraid, late, and had no other options. I prayed for protection and got into the cab with Mr. Hossein. After a 15-minute ride, I spotted my hotel from afar and exclaimed with relief. Mr. Hossein even accompanied me to the reception to assist with any language barriers.
The Aftermath and Lessons
The hotel staff contacted my Singaporean friend, whose number was on the booking. It turned out my friends had arrived at our meeting spot shortly after Mr. Hossein and I left. Without my passport, phone, or money, I had received help from an unexpected source.
What did I learn from this experience? Always read the fine print—festival rules, travel guidelines, and every detail matter. Moreover, in a world often perceived as harsh, goodness still exists through acts of kindness like those from Mr. Hossein and his friend. However, this doesn't mean we should rely on chance or prayers alone. The answer is a resounding no; preparedness is key. Hence, the ultimate takeaway: always read the fine print to avoid such nightmares.
