TOO FAR NO TAKE

7:30pm, my alarm goes off. I had packed up everything in my guest house an hour prior, and was ready to move to my own apartment in central Bangkok. A short nap cleared up the extra few minutes I had until 8pm, when I was to meet the landlord, hand over a pile of Thai baht and get my keys. And so, off I went, every one of my worldly possessions in two backpacks, strapped to my back and front, including some expensive electronics I need for school and about 25,000 baht in cash. In short, I had a lot to lose if something went wrong on my cross-city trek, in a place where I can hardly communicate and can easily get lost. So, of course....

...after standing at a busy corner on Nakohn Chaisi for about 20 minutes, sweat beginning to build up, the uncharacteristic lack of taxis finally gave way to an available cabby that pulled over for me.

“Where you go?”

“Ratchaprarop, Si Ayutthaya.”

“No, too far. No take.”

And away went the taxi. Well then...

The next three taxis, all about five to seven minutes apart, did the exact same thing, while I continued to stand there with 60lbs of stuff on my body, worth way too much money, in freaking Bangkok, sweating like a guy in a track suit on a stationary bike, inside a sauna, drinking hot coffee.

Finally I said screw it and decided that, even though I was currently the size of two people, I would grab the 14 bus that heads straight to Victory Monument and trucks on through to my exact intersection. What other option did I really have?

That plan started to smell sour pretty quickly as well. Once at the bus stop, I noticed two conspicuous 14 buses, parked at the stop across the street, dark and vacant. Shift change? Out of service? It was only 8:25 or so by this time, so I couldn't fathom a busy route being shut down for the night. Ah ha! A 14 bus approaches on the right side of the street. And. Then. It. Parks. It's empty, the lights go out and the driver exits, locking the door.

WTF

By this time I was absolutely dripping with sweat. I had opted to set down my travel pack and just wear my backpack, keeping a hawk eye on my stuff, even though it was the size of an average Thai woman and sat right at my foot on the sidewalk. I had started having thoughts like “if anyone even looks at me sideways I am swinging” and “I could get my knife out.” I'm not one to stress out. Anyone who knows me in person would attest to that, but it truly seemed like a city-wide conspiracy to block my attempt to move, and to grab my valuables. An edge of paranoia was creeping in for sure.

Thankfully, a running 14 bus arrived at the stop perhaps five minutes later. I scooped up my bag and flew from the curb to the entry steps of the bus, tossing my cargo in an empty space on the floor near the exit, out of the way and secure. I plopped down in the seat next to my stuff and instantly felt eyes on me like I was an idiot, and this was not a cargo ship, but the change jockey took my money and gave me my ride ticket. I looked like I had stuck my head under a shower and let my shirt absorb the aftermath. At least I was done carrying my stuff to my destination.

When the bus pulled into the Victory Monument stop, several kilometers down the road, my glowing sense of victory to accompany the monument got slapped in the face, as I and everyone on the bus was excused from their seat. Last stop of the night? Whatever it was, I was again screwed, not to mention encumbered by a heavy load of expensive stuff. I knew my way from the monument by this point, having walked the area several times over the preceding days, getting squared away with school and how to get around and all that. So, after my brutal rejections from taxi drivers, and my sudden ejection from my temporary savior, the 14 bus, I was a little angry, to make an understatement. It was at that moment that I decided I was walking the last 3k or whatever it was. I guess something like 2 miles, through stupid-busy downtown BKK streets full of gawkers, shoppers, and pedestrians who have an uncanny ability to stay in your way no matter the evasive maneuvers you attempt.

There was a steady stream of profanity coursing through my head, pretty frequently making its way into the air, though the odds of it being understood were low. A certain movie scene comes to mind...

I managed to trudge through the BS and the people, and got some clear sidewalk in front of me, finally. I hit the gas, hit my stride and cleared some ground in a hurry just to reach my destination. At last, I arrived, was invited inside, got a set of keys, traded a huge sum of cash (locally huge anyway, in my American reality it was about $600), took a shower with my sweat-soaked shorts on and went to bed in my own private room, several thousand miles from home.

And I still have a week of free time before class starts.

Oh and, this awaited me in the apartment, printed all over the sheets. Granted, there are no stars to be seen at night in such an electrified metropolis, but that's missing the point.