Bye Bye Bangkok

If you were in Bangkok, and it was your last night in Asia after a 6 month holiday, what would you do?  In my mind, you have two basic options: you either sleep, or you party.  I decided that I wanted to sleep.

The Last Supper

So I went out for dinner around 6:30.  I ordered one  last pad Thai.  The waitress asked me what I wanted to drink.  After a microsecond of consideration I asked for a small beer.  She pointed out that the price of a small beer was 70 baht, and a big beer was 80.  So I changed my mind and ordered a big one.  And then I started chatting to the guy at the table next to me.  He was young, french and friendly, and he had also been in Thailand for a a long time.  So we talked about our favorite places and girls and what have you.  And I ate my food.  And I finished my beer, but we kept talking and I grew thirsty and ordered another.  I'm easily persuaded. This is how it started.  

The following series of decisions seemed like a good idea at the time:

Let's walk to another bar on Kaosan road to play pool...
Let's get a taxi to some club I've never heard of before, where there are many girls...
Okay, there's no girls.  Let's go somewhere else....

The Last Dance

At this point if somebody called me and asked where I was, I wouldn't even be sure to say Bangkok. But there are lots of girls here.  And I'm with friends.  And we buy a big bottle of rum and a bucket of bottles of coke and we get on it.  People are dancing.  This is fun.

  

And there are lots of girls.  I think one of them likes me, and we start dancing together.  We continue dancing until five in the morning.  Then we eat the most expensive breakfast in Bangkok and catch a ride back to the hotel.  My bus leaves to the airport at  noon.  I don't have enough time to worry about it. 

But noontime comes and goes, and I'm still sleeping.  Fortunately I have a sort of sixth sense about time, so I bolted upright at quarter past and began frantically dressing myself and getting ready to go.  I poke my girlfriend from last night a few times, but she just moans and rolls over.  After a moment of consideration I offer to book the room for another night so she can sleep in.  She warms up to the idea, rolls back, and kisses me goodbye.

I missed the bus, but there's still hope.  The traffic is congested because of a inner city protest.  So the travel is slow, still I've got to try.  

So I hail a taxi.  I say "To the airport please, DMK airport"

His English is very Chinese , "You go to airport? Suvarnabhumi international."

"No I want to go to DMK airport", I say adamantly

And he concedes "Okay' we go airport"' Then he tells me "My English is very little." And off we go.

I'm half asleep along the way.  But I opened my eyes once to see a sign saying Don Muang Airport.  Satisfied with the averted crisis, I close them again.   And when I drift back into the world I see a sign which says :Suvarnabhumi international.  This is slightly worrying, so I ask my driver, "We go to DMK yeah?" 

He assures me that we are.  

However, ten minutes later, we arrive at Suvarnabhumi International airport.  We are just in time for me to check in for my three o clock flight at DMK airport, which is over an hour away.  The driver brought me to the wrong airport.  

So with all my bags, one hour of sleep, and no breakfast, I trekked in to the Air Asia office to see what I could do.  I missed my flight, but there was still time to catch the connection in Malaysia.  However, AirAsia flys from two airports in both cities.  So I would have to race to DMK to catch the next available flight, and then I could make my connection in Kulu Lumpur.   

My taxi driver is waiting for me, but the pedestrian traffic is one way.  I can't go back, only forward.  So I take a different taxi from the stand outside.  I feel kind of bad for my last driver, because I didn't pay him.  I guess he probably doesn't feel to great either.  

I get into the taxi and ask him to take me to the other airport.  He seems to understand my directions.  After all there are only two airports in Bangkok.  I ask him to go fast.

Hurry Up and Wait

So we're backtracking on the freeway.  I'm sulking in the backseat, periodically handing over money for the toll booths as I consider the balance of good times and bad.  We make it to DMK without further ado.  I pay the driver, pick up my luggage and rush inside.  

My original flight hasn't left yet, but it's too late to check in.  I approach the Air Asia counter, thinking myself lucky when there is only one person in front of me.  I wait for them to finish and then step up to the desk. 

"Are you number 22?", the lady asked me.

Apperently I was supposed to take a number.  And my number was 36.  Not so lucky after all.  I waited for a good 20 minutes before my number was called.  Twenty minutes of fidgeting and worrying that I would miss my chance.  But I returned to the counter with time to spare.  I bought a new ticket to Malaysia.  The only catch was that they couldn't transfer my baggage automatically, so I would have to check through immigration on arrival and re-check my bags.  This was annoying and slightly more expensive, but, being the only option, I took it.

And they even gave me a window seat.

I feel sorry for the people who were sitting next to me.  You see, usually, I love the window seat.  I gaze at the landscape down below for hours, until my neck is so sore I have to spend the next hour looking at the person next to me until the bones readjust and the muscles relax.  I love the view so much, that if I'm stuck in the middle or in the aisle, and the person in the window seat isn't looking out the window most of the time, I get upset.  I feel like they are wasting a golden opportunity.  If they fall asleep I assume they are lazy and unable to appreciate the finer things in life.

And there I was, five minutes after takeoff, sleeping like a lazy baby with my tray table up and my seatback in the full upright position...