What? What are you looking at me like that for?

It's only been 139 days since my last post. And as a matter of fact, 1+3+9 = 13, which is my lucky number. So really, it's our lucky day!

So what has happened? I haven't written a thing since I set foot on this North American continent's soil. Or, I suppose plane wheel came first... And then maybe shoe... 

However you want to look at it.

What of this "Thursday" you've wondered/harassed about for (1... 2... 3...) 5 months?? Tell me I'm not the master of building suspense, eh? (And then dropping it mercilessly to the floor.)

Well, let's rehash. 

What I was intending to get at and add to was this theme that Thailand had all sorts of shenanigannery in store for me before I was to set sail (take flight... We need to call a ref in here). On this very special Thursday, I was what I've come to call "pseudo-kidnapped." 

In some of my final trips to the market (and, unwisely, some of the earlier ones, too) I decided to finally buy those amazing-things-that-wouldn't-be-so-great-to-carry-around-but-oh-they're-so-totally-worth-it. On this special Thursday, I headed into town (from my dorm way out in Doi Saket) to find some kind of cylindrical box to protect my AWESOME prints and paintings. 

For the record, this endeavor too far, far too long, and I walked far, far too far.

Finally I found myself at the mall (*peeve*), where I wandered and inquired and mimed a poster-shaped box (don't ask me what that looked like). When that search finally ended in a superfluous - but fancy! - hard, black plastic case intended for architect's blueprints, I marched out of the giant reminder of western culture and headed to catch a song taeow on the street. At this point, it was about 3:00; Plenty of time to make the 45-minute-ish trip back to the dorm to prepare for teaching class at 5:00.

Anybody? Foreshadowing? Gonna call it??

Here you go:

WRONG.

Red truck pulls up. Guy driving, nice enough, gives me the "where ya goin'?" face. I tell him to take me to the place where I can catch a yellow truck that will take me outside the city (in so many words - Buddha forgive me, I've forgotten the name). Okay! I've got space - jump in the front here with me! (He motions.)

Noooo problem.

As the cab ride continues, I do my best (as I've been doing) to hold some conversation in Thai. The driver is elated. Before I know it, he's trying to say things in English to me, testing my Thai vocabulary, and making plans for us to meet regulary so that we can cooperatively teach each other.

Seriously. You read that correctly. He starts making serious plans.

But me, - slow on the uptake - I see this as just the same harmless pseudo-flirtation that you find with many Thai men. They are gleeful and sometimes even have a twinkle in their eye, but ultimately, they're quite honestly harmless.

So when he asks to exchange numbers, I assume it's so I can call for a future ride, and he can establish a guaranteed contact (not necessarily uncommon, and even happened before).

But then we aren't going to my stop. We're not anywhere close. And we're picking up more people. And more. And then 30 minutes have passed. 45. An hour. I'm running out of time. 

All the while he's giggling and testing and the conversation (and his known English) has strayed to attempts at conveying just how fond of me he is, and how he's going to take me to Doi Saket himself (NOT in his area), and how beautiful I am, and how "you and I! You and I! Sabai sabai!" ("really good!").

And I'm starting to feel concerned.

(Frog in boiling water? Anybody?)

Now we're out at the airport. I realize that most (if not all) of you don't have a frame of reference for this, but the airport is MILES away from my intended destination. 

Oh? Is that panic tapping my shoulder?

I'm starting to portray in any way I can my sense of urgency. If you don't know, conveying urgency to a Thai is like telling a cow there's just too much grass. 

They just... Don't really care. They're gonna keep on keepin' on. Time and punctuality is not of UTMOST IMPORTANCE on their side of the ocean. Contrary to here, where we eat, sleep, drink, breathe, and choke on it almost as a secondary to oxygen. 

Sigh. For all my sounding bitter, this makes me deeply miss Thailand.

So, his response to this is: "Jai yin yin! Jai yin yin!" ("Cool heart!" a.k.a. "Chill out, chica!") 

Harumph. My panic starts to inflate while I'm gauging the degree to which we have a language barrier. And then realize that we also have a temporary philosophical barrier, too.

"No! I'm going to be in trouble! Please! I need to go teach English to others!" (<going for the empathy vote.)

-Hands waiving and miming frantically, keep in mind-

70 minutes. 80 minutes. Ack! Point of no return!!

Oh god, I think. He's never going to let me out. I'm going to be stuck on this song taeow forever. Where will he take me? What could happen? How will this end?

Something switches. He notices I'm stressed and we aren't having fun anymore.

Finally, some more meandering... Some alleys... (By this time, I've given up on hoping if one of the alleys is a magical taxi driver route that will make us instantly appear where I want to be...) But finally we're back around to my stop. He doesn't charge me. I thank him, I do my best to help us both save face, and leave graciously.

Run to the bus stop. Jump on a yellow song taeow. Wait for it to leave. Begin the ride out of town. 

Start praying!

Serendipitiously, the truck does something it has never, ever, EVER done before. Someone has loaded a great deal on the truck, and has somehow convinced the driver to traverse OFF THE MAIN HIGHWAY out onto one of the BACK ROADS to their house, way out there, so they can load it all off. 

GlkLKJE9879082+&$@#)sdfokjlkj:slkdnVIJNHDFG0P9YAERKJHDAFKIUH2349P87OIosadiuf98y24roiudf(&(^a3785324opdiufysidu=!+@+!#$@#!+%)%%(^87!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(^^That is what blog frustration looks like.)

I'm calling/texting my program coordinator and I'm apologizing. I'm late. But maybe... MAYBE... I can make it? We can be a little late?

It's already time to be in class when I reach my bus stop. From there I have to walk (RUN) ten or so minutes to the dorm. I'm stressed.

I reach the dorm. But not alone. I fly through the front door all-a-fluster and with a black puppy who has seen me and chased me all the way home. He takes the process of formally greeting everyone off my hands.

Jim (my coordinator) is so forgiving. She asks if I'm alright. I explain the whole situation. She is apologizing to ME while I'm apologizing for being so late. She says it's not my fault. But we are late. And, on my very last day of teaching English to Buddhist monks, I do not get to go. No goodbyes. 

This all following my accident, by the way, so I'd already had to miss a bunch of classes.

Harumph. 

But let me tell you of the cherry on top! Papat (said pseudo-kidnapper) CALLS ME. Again. Not 1... or 2... but 5 more times. I do not answer. I'm quite angry.

And so, my day ultimately ended. And Thailand gave me yet another poke in the ribs and wave of the hand.

Perhaps it really was getting to be late in the hour, and time to leave...





And now you know about Thursday. 

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