Wednesday November 17/Thursday November 18

 

There seemed to be a thousand things to do before going on this trip.  I managed to stay awake until 2:30am the night before traveling, taking care of a few of the loose ends, and then getting up at 6:30am on Wednesday.

 

I was awfully bleary and haphazard about packing.  I had a hard time whittling things down, being mindful of the planned three week length of this particular trip.  I felt a little saddened over my last day at work the day before.

 

Since I’d clearly discovered the wonders and convenience of laundry Asia style, I am not sure what I was thinking, trying to over pack.  I’d never over packed since I began traveling, so this urge was clearly an anomaly.  I ended up just reducing much of what I packed in numbers, five pairs of socks instead of seven, one pair of swimming trunks and so on.

 

I had been working at a power utility up until this trip as a temp.  The job was enjoyable and paid well, but was posted and was essentially out of my class. They hired someone with a CPA to do it, although I am mystified as to what a CPA would really need to do that I couldn’t.  I left on more or less short notice, primarily to save face, but on good terms.

 

Unusually, Andy was running late, having gotten caught in a traffic snarl.  This suited me as it allowed me to do a few more house cleaning activities, and I’d budgeted plenty of extra time anyway.  Andy did make it and I gave him some apples and loaned him a couple of DVDs.  We grabbed a rather painful breakfast at Biscuits near my place.  As we left breakfast I realized I’d left my rented DVD’s and bills to mail on the table.  Andy volunteered to return and take care of them upon his later house inspection visit.

 

The ennui surrounding work inspired me to sing “Leaving on a Jet Plane” in a Dylan voice with some slightly revamped words as Andy walked in: 

 

Well, my bag is packed, I’m ready to leave

Andy’s at the door, jinglin’ his keys

Already I’m so lonesome, I could die

 

By this time, the traditional breakfast seemed more work than pleasure for some reason.  Frequently, we’d had marginal breakfasts, and this one was very tatty in both service and quality.  The waitress fucked up several times, and the food was no good anyway.  We got to the airport in plenty of time, although the DVDs and mail left behind would come back to haunt me.

 

This trip would be my first trial of the Northwest Airlines flight direct to Narita in Tokyo. A lady guided me through the new electronic check in, which was more or less a snap.  I made it through the security check this time without being strip searched, although I did have to remove my shoes again.  I ambled down to the gate quite early and worked a cute Filipino-American girl aged about six with the gags I’d brought along this time.  Soon her extended family was hovering around, about ten people in total.  It was quite the audience.

 

Aside from the usual red sponge noses and typical body parts, I brought along a rubber lizard and a generous re-supply of noodle balls, which were so much of a hit last time.  I gave away the red noses freely.

 

I am not sure what I did to deserve it, but the flight was only about 2/3rds full, and I scored an empty seat next to me.  The flight was relatively screaming kid free as well.  Each seat had a personal video monitor which featured a choice of music, movies and games. I dozed for the first short hours of the trip up the Canadian coast and made good use of the music and games.  My only complaint was something below the seat in front of me, restricting my foot space, but this was a small matter compared to the unexpected lateral space and comfort of the flight.

 

I could probably make that flight every day if it were always so unrestricted.  The brutality of crowded flights was overwhelming, particularly when I think about that first flight from MSP to London.  I could get up and move, stretch out, entertain myself and ponder the adventures ahead of me.

 

I waited around at Narita for what seemed to be forever, but at least getting through the security check was much lower in impact this time. I had a hankering to eat or buy something in the airport, but did neither.  Instead, I just watched the girls parade by, getting up to take a stroll around the terminal once.

 

I’m not sure what it is, but Narita is probably the least comfortable airport I’ve ever been in.  There is no one reason for this that I can put my finger on, other than the previous year’s bad experience getting through the security checks when changing planes.  But Narita seemed cheap and clumsy, inefficient and difficult.  It did the Japanese nation no great service.

 

The flight to BKK was on a nearly identical plane, the difference being that this one was sold out.  It was packed, and I sat by a middle aged guy from Raleigh Durham, who seemed to want to talk more than I really cared.  Even before taxing out I slipped in the earplugs at an opportunity and caught a nod as soon as we were in the air.

 

Much to my surprise, I managed to sleep through about 70% of the flight, albeit very roughly. I completely missed all takings from the flight attendants, two of whom were rather attractive Japanese women.  I made it to BKK and crawled through immigration to find the big bag waiting for me on the luggage carousel.

 

Well, given the crowded flight and the distance of six hours, it certainly was a pleasant surprise to sleep through most of it.  I awoke somewhere over Indochina, with dimly lit towns or villages passing by quite quickly.  I pondered what was happening on the ground, thinking that any activity to the average Thai was probably pretty exotic to me.

 

Getting through the throng of people arriving and exiting the public part of the terminal was positively murderous.  I pushed my way through, remembered where the ATMs were from last time, grabbed some cash and sat down in the same café as last time to have a Coke.  I rested and re-hydrated.

 

I got out into the taxi line behind a big, fat farang, not dissimilar to myself in size, and probably an American as well.  He pushed a baggage cart and followed two very young and mostly attractive Thai girls.  I felt like I knew his story without even talking to him.  His interaction with the girls, and their reactions, seemed to confirm my suspicions.

 

But for a moment I could see the scene in front of me through Thai eyes and remarked how ridiculous this guy, and by extension I, looked.  The girls were clearly young, in their early twenties, and I gathered their English to be suspect. I figured he met one or both in a Go Go, fell in love and now he was returning for some sugar.  The girl or girls were probably indifferent to him, but wanted out of Thailand and he was oblivious to this.

 

I felt like a pro and directed the taxi driver to the JW Marriott. He drove aggressively at first, giving me a heart attack by tailgating and disregarding brake lights.  He got me there promptly and I tipped him well, and shocked him in the process.

 

Man, that was a real life thrill ride.  He must have been less than three feet off of the front car’s bumper going at least 65 miles an hour. I prayed and then tried to disregard the danger.  Had a soi dog run out on the freeway, I was going to be hamburger.  Despite this, I never wore a seatbelt in the taxis.  And this guy was clearly insane.

 

At the hotel, trouble was looming.  I tried to check in and was asked to step away from the desk by the young and very shapely assistant manager.  She quietly informed me that they’d given away my room for the evening.  She proposed moving me to another hotel far away from Sukumvit and bringing me back the following day.  I complained and waited for her to make arrangements.  As I stewed, I figured I’d just hot foot it over to the Amari and get something.  I told the woman to skip it, and cancel my reservation and I hit the street at 2am with my bags.

 

Really, I noticed all the action going down on Sukumvit as we pulled in. I was blown out from the flight but toyed with some company all the way from the airport, and was ready to drop into action, so I was therefore loathe to abandon Sukumvit.  Pissed, I figured I’d find something else and get comfortable.

 

The street was completely awash in young women.  Some were obviously working, some apparently just getting off work, and some I did not have any apparent designation. The streets were hot and crowded.  I saw one vendor selling severed fingers and rubber reptiles.  Hey buddy, that’s my line.

 

I was surprised to see that the Amari had rearranged reception when I walked into the lobby.  They had nothing for me, and told me everyone on Sukumvit was booked, but the guy called around for me. After a couple of minutes, I called him off and resigned myself to eating humble pie back at the Marriott.

 

Hot, humiliated and hung out to dry, I slithered back to the Marriott to beg for their assistance. If they couldn’t help me, and given my rather testy walk out of the hotel, I couldn’t have been surprised if they wouldn’t, I was in deep shit.  It was well past 2 in the morning and I had no where to go.  Apparently there was some sort of big conference going on through the weekend.

 

I returned to the Marriott and the assistant manage, who promptly recognized the situation and took care of me. I decided I liked her and tried to be nice to her.  She got me a car and a driver, who obviously did not know the destination, much to her embarrassment.  He got me to the Meritus, and at the time I had no clue as to what part of town I was in.

 

Nevertheless, I soldiered in to the Meritus’ peaceful, gold and marble lobby. The receptionist welcomed and expected me.  She quickly set me up and gave me a key to room 5105.  After my experiences last year, I was prepared for the seventh floor or something, but was pleasantly surprised at the actual room.

 

Although it wasn’t likely on the actual 51^st floor, the room had a commanding view of the city and the river.  I was shocked to find it was a suite, with stove, large fridge, two TV’s, a Romanesque balcony and so on.  I stripped down and surfed the TV, sleeping on and off as I expected I would. The room was very quiet and comfortable, with a huge bathroom, separate shower and bath and hardwood floors.

 

Wow, what a place. The room was slick, open and modern.  I felt amazingly comfortable there and quite at home.