Incident on the walk from Bangkok train station to our hotel
We had just got off the second class sleeper from Chiang mai. Our train had got in a little early. It was five thirty and still not light out. I had planned to walk the two or three kilometers to our hotel.Much to my amazement Yammy stated that " no f____king way am I carrying my pack all the way to the hotel." A little put out, I grabbed her pack and stomped out of the station.
I guess this really started in Chiang mai where I had forced her to walk from the bus station to our hotel in the heat of the day and in rush hour traffic. Or the walk to the train station also in the heat of the day.
It wasn't too bad carrying her pack but I was in a bad frame of mind. I foresaw the end of our backpacking flashpacking days. Now we would turn into two obese old farts travelling with big plastic luggage, taking taxis, tour buses and paying five times the going rate for everything and sharing it with a whole bunch of other obese old farts.
While dwelling on these dark unkind thoughts I hit a rough patch of pavement and did a flying tumbling face plant. Like Patrick Chan missing a quadruple jump and still hoping to salvage a bronze medal, I stumbled to my feet bleeding and dazed and cursing my stupidity and clumsiness.
When I throw one of my infantile stupid insensitive tantrums Yammy has always had the knack of pushing a few buttons to bring me to a quick meltdown. " you better do something about that cut or it could get infected" " You will probably end up in ICU" " I hope you updated your will" " You are just like your mother"
When I recovered my senses I was many minutes and several blocks further along. I noticed the locals were giving me a wide berth. When it comes to western tourists the locals have seen everything. They seemed in shock when I came stumbling down the street carrying two bulky packs, bleeding from my palms and knee, a rip in my pants and a demented expression on my face. Women hid their children behind their beautiful silk saris. Policemen at the busy intersections unconsciously stepped back and put their hands on their US army surplus pistols. The old women coming back from the market who normally don't yield to anyone muttered curses or prayers and stepped out of my way.
And in almost the blink of an eye we arrived at our $20 dollar guest house. The staff seemed genuinely glad to see us and had saved our old room number five. Up a teak staircase over polished meticulously clean floors to our room with a big king sized bed, two big windows and an industrial sized, quiet running fan on the ceiling.
Here Yammy got back in my good books by mending my torn pants. We had quick showers and headed out to a street stall for noodle soup.
And so ended our six week, honeymoon like vacation in South East Asia .
I guess this really started in Chiang mai where I had forced her to walk from the bus station to our hotel in the heat of the day and in rush hour traffic. Or the walk to the train station also in the heat of the day.
It wasn't too bad carrying her pack but I was in a bad frame of mind. I foresaw the end of our backpacking flashpacking days. Now we would turn into two obese old farts travelling with big plastic luggage, taking taxis, tour buses and paying five times the going rate for everything and sharing it with a whole bunch of other obese old farts.
While dwelling on these dark unkind thoughts I hit a rough patch of pavement and did a flying tumbling face plant. Like Patrick Chan missing a quadruple jump and still hoping to salvage a bronze medal, I stumbled to my feet bleeding and dazed and cursing my stupidity and clumsiness.
When I throw one of my infantile stupid insensitive tantrums Yammy has always had the knack of pushing a few buttons to bring me to a quick meltdown. " you better do something about that cut or it could get infected" " You will probably end up in ICU" " I hope you updated your will" " You are just like your mother"
When I recovered my senses I was many minutes and several blocks further along. I noticed the locals were giving me a wide berth. When it comes to western tourists the locals have seen everything. They seemed in shock when I came stumbling down the street carrying two bulky packs, bleeding from my palms and knee, a rip in my pants and a demented expression on my face. Women hid their children behind their beautiful silk saris. Policemen at the busy intersections unconsciously stepped back and put their hands on their US army surplus pistols. The old women coming back from the market who normally don't yield to anyone muttered curses or prayers and stepped out of my way.
And in almost the blink of an eye we arrived at our $20 dollar guest house. The staff seemed genuinely glad to see us and had saved our old room number five. Up a teak staircase over polished meticulously clean floors to our room with a big king sized bed, two big windows and an industrial sized, quiet running fan on the ceiling.
Here Yammy got back in my good books by mending my torn pants. We had quick showers and headed out to a street stall for noodle soup.
And so ended our six week, honeymoon like vacation in South East Asia .
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