Thank God, I'm Not in Thailand (624 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.54 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by BillyGoat (View user info) at 2007-10-29 21:19:51 EDT
The phone buzzes, rousing me from my sleep, re-awakening my senses to the familiar stale air. A humid vinegary suspension mixed with body odour hangs in the air and I can taste it lingering at the back of my mouth. My tongue involuntarily investigates these strange sensations and reaffirms them to me. Only 11 hours Mike, I tell myself trying to hold back the gag reflex as much as I can.
A fat woman plops herself on the adjacent seat, forcing me to change from my comfortable position. My butt clenches and something pops in my ass. It immediately begins to irritate me and I can't quite get to it, without getting funny looks from the other people. Scratching any part of your body in public is uncool, and scratching your ass- well-that's just vulgar.
***
An apologetic voice booms from the PA system announcing that the air conditioning is still getting fixed. There is collective descent among the people as they shuffle forward towards the checkin desks. Each movement generates heat, carbon dioxide and BO, further exacerbating the already colossal 35 C. So many people are breathing into my face and the excess carbon dioxide is making me feel light headed.
What makes it worse is that each step has become an effort owing to the gritty feeling in my rectum. I'm desperate to scratch, but I'm too close to passport control and I feel the pressure of everyone looking at me. The pace is further stifled, by the stop and searches that have been recently instated in light of the recent terrorist attacks in neighbouring countries. Now all South Asian countries are employing stop and searches although I have a feeling that it's a futile effort considering the lack of security at this place. There is nothing to stop a potential suicide bomber, nothing at all. I guess it's done to re-assure the travellers (mainly the foreigners) that everything is under control.
It's times like these that I'm glad I'm not of Arabic descent. The last time I donned a beard was 2 years ago and have since removed it, in the wake of the terrorist attacks in London. I was stopped once at Charing Cross station and I would rather not go through the humiliation again. Sometimes I feel sorry for the Arabs though; I mean, take the guy being searched right now. He's hardly gonna harm anyone in his suit and brief case. The case is barely big enough to hold a few rudimentary documents. My guess is his on his way to a business meeting and the last thing on his mind is anything to do with semtex.
It's just that these guys seem to be targeted a bit more than others and it's a quite unfair. Who's to say I'm not carrying a bomb? Ok I, may not have 'the look,' but have you seen the size of my rucksack, I could be carrying all kinds of bomb paraphernalia in there and they would be none the wiser. It's just this mentality that a terrorist should fit in some kind of mould. As if there a checklist of facial features which the security officials look for. One day, someone not part of that checklist will do something drastic and they will wake up. Remember Tim Mcvey? well he was ordinary Joe Shmoe, wasn't he?
But I'm glad I'm not of that descent as I pass yet another security officer on his was to investigate some other helpless Arab in the queue. See, I've got 3 packets of coke in my ass for lads back home. I got them because coke is dirt cheap in Thailand compared to the rip off back home. Well, I actually got it free, but I'll get to that later. And the fact that I can use my skin colour to get away with it so fucking sweet.
***
The holiday was amazing. Nothing beats 7 days in Bangkok, infused with the culture, the food, the architecture and the whole barbaric almost spontaneous way of life. It's so crowded though and I found it hard to get anywhere, coming from a colour co-ordinated, signposted-everything on you lap- country. Everything was convoluted and I couldn't make heads or tails of it and so I decided o use taxis as my main mode of transport to get a better sense of city. Plus, I thought it would be safer.
So one evening I'm in a taxi, going to visit the Grand Palace. A place I had read about in my Asian history class. The driver spoke adequate English to facilitate small talk. He was smoking and I was desperate for a cigarette. This broke the ice and we were soon chatting away, exchanging cultural anecdotes. I say exchanging; he was merely fascinated by my Britishness. Had I known him longer, I swear, he'd have asked me to adopt him as a servant or something. But any hoo, back to the present time.
We are chugging along, and he asks if I'd like to sample the culture. Now I'm green right, so I'm thinking; are there more monuments that I haven't visited? I'm racking my brains trying to recall as many palaces and temples I can think of. After a blank, I say yes. I don't see the harm in this guy so I go along with him. He takes a left down some street in Patpong and we've entered a seedier part of Bangkok. He pulls up and we go into this little house. My instincts tell me not to go in but I only have one more day and it's been a week since I got some punani. Immediately my thoughts turn to whether oriental pussy is sideways. I know its stupid internet folklore, but it's still humorous. I laugh out loud and a young man laughs with me as we enter the door to his room. It's hard to tell whether he's laughing with or at me, but what the hell, I haven't been stabbed so I guess its all good.
The pressure is off when a beautiful Thai girl steps in, very petite and demure it's unbelievable. She comes to me and tenderly nibbles on my ear and it's obvious what she wants as her hands travel down towards my groin. I'm tempted and my dick is rock hard, I could just take her there and then, but I decide not to, coz I don't want to show my desperation. I slump into my cushions and grab another pull on the crack pipe and watch as the taxi driver exits the room for a fumble with the prostitute.
The night wears on and we are high as shit. The room is dimly lit and is even dimmer through the concentrated smoke. Our only source of ventilation is a small window not wide enough to let the smoke out. My eyes sting a little but I couldn't care because I'm having such a raucous time.
After about 4 hours, the driver returns, with a satisfied look on his face. He says something to the rest of the gang and one of them throws him a small pouch, while gesturing for me to get up. I struggle to get to my feet. We say our goodbyes and make our way out.
We reach the hotel and I thank the driver for a truly brilliant night. It had been great, to do something authentic, more organic with the local folk. It will make a difference from the usual holiday talk -sun, sea and sex in an enclave where the only native is a paid servant. I pay the usual fare and I jokingly say it would be great if I could get a souvenir to remember the taxi driver by. He reaches under his seat and to my surprise, pulls out 3 tiny bags of coke. It's not what I was expecting and I'm slightly taken aback by his attitude and am not sure whether to take the drugs knowing the strict anti-drug stance in the country. Not to mention that I still have to get through passport control.
***
Well I got through checkin with nothing more than a quizzical look at the way I was walking, I guess they thought I was disabled in some way. I tried hard to contain my joy and not to sprint into the aeroplane lest they haul me back.
We have been flying for about 6 hours and there is still 5 more hours to go. I still can't believe my luck and I'm grinning like a fucking monkey. The gritty feeling in my arse has gone and I check if the bags are still in there while taking a piss. They are, but my butt feels kinda numb.
***
2 hours till touch down and I can barely keep my eyes on the film I'm watching. I'm sweating and my heart is racing. I look at my wrist and I can see veins popping under pressure from the rushing blood. I try to shift attention by zoning in, on the film, but the moving images are making it worse. Every nerve in my brain seems to be in overdrive, it's as if the actors are shouting directly into my ear and lowering the volume on the headphones doesn't help. The colours have been amplified and are straining my eyes up to the point were one of them is twitching. After a while I just turn the damn thing off and pretend to sleep so not rouse suspicion.
***
An hour before touch down and I can barely stay in my seat. The hallucinations have abated but my heart is not slowing down. My t-shirt is soaking underneath my jacket and the wet fibres are clinging to the hairs in my chest. I reach under the jacket to pull it off, but my heart gives a violent jolt at that moment and I black out.
***
My eyes are blurry when I wake up. The noise of the plane has been replaced by silence. My eyes slowly adjust to my new environment and I can see a dark figure standing in front of me. I blink a few times, and try to focus harder. The image becomes clearer. The black uniform gives it away and I know instantly that I'm fucked.
The policeman gestures, momentarily removing his hand from the trigger. He smiles, that smug smile that seals my doom.
I've nothing to say except, thank God I'm not in Thailand.
User Reviews
Submitted by beat_raven (user info) at 2007-10-30 17:16:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
another correction: you don't don a beard, unless you glue it on.
:-) I like the writing. keep it up
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-10-30 16:38:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-10-30 06:57:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm not sure if you know this, but drugs are available worldwide. The guy isn't smuggling tonnes of the stuff. He's getting small amounts for his friends to sample.
****
ok ok, let's say for a second that he somehow miraculously finds some even though it's not grown there and Noone smuggles any there because there is No viable market
so what you're telling me is that he is so stupid, he will risk the death penalty and ass-ram a couple of grams of meth-cut coke just to impress his friends with a sample?
and a sample to what ends?, cause it just ain't there to export
i've only been there 3 times so what the fuck do i know
and i know it may seem like a minor, inconsequential flaw in your story, but it isn't
don't be so pig-headed, substitute heroin and you'll be A-OK
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2007-10-30 16:34:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nicely done.
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-10-30 12:41:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
cool
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-30 10:24:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Pretty good. A few typos and grammar violations that distracted, but nothing too major.
I still cannot fathom putting a bag up my ass, much less one filled with drugs.
Submitted by FlakMonkey (user info) at 2007-10-30 09:10:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i enjoyed it well enough i suppose.
~Brdn_Nkd
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-10-30 06:57:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm not sure if you know this, but drugs are available worldwide. The guy isn't smuggling tonnes of the stuff. He's getting small amounts for his friends to sample.
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-10-30 06:29:25 GMT (#)
Ranking: -1
See, I've got 3 packets of coke in my ass for lads back home. I got them because coke is dirt cheap in Thailand...
yeah right, and then there was the time you stuffed 3 packets of heroin out of Bolivia
damn, at least do a little research before saying stupid things
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-10-30 02:29:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
See, I've got 3 packets of coke in my ass for lads back home. I got them because coke is dirt cheap in Thailand...
yeah right, and then there was the time you stuffed 3 packets of heroin out of Bolivia
damn, at least do a little research before saying stupid things
Submitted by ConorJS (user info) at 2007-10-29 23:22:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
1. I scratch the joint where arm meets chest. That's cool.
2. Just scratch your ass already.
3. "He's hardly gonna harm anyone in his suit and brief case" <- you don't know that.
4. Timothy McVeigh was framed. Fact.
5. Being white is totally sweet.
6. Never take a suggestion from a local. Especially not where poor yellow people live.
7. Keep smoking rocks. It's good for you.
8. Didn't you ever see SLC Punk? You should've known better.
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-10-29 23:09:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Getting caught with drugs was one of my greatest fears when I was travelling around thailand.
Chiang Mai isn't all that great, I remember seeing a video ezy when I was walking around and thought it was extremely weird. that, and the massage i was given by a blind man.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-10-29 22:44:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm really glad this didn't turn out to be about lady-boys.
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (user info) at 2007-10-29 22:15:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"Nothing beats 7 days in Bangkok, infused with the culture"
Lol. Bangkok is a decadent Westernised shithole that is about as "Asian" as Liverpool. Their definition of culture is the provision of vice to a swarming array of fat, tattooed Westerners with pedophilic grins of evil on their faces.
Bangkok is a place to travel if you dont actually like travel. Everybody fucking speaks English, it's disgusting.
Chiang Mai on the other hand...
*swoons*
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2007-10-29 22:07:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I kind of followed this, but it was a little hard sometimes. Spelling errors really bugged me a couple times.
Needs to write more stuff below.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2007-10-29 21:41:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Not bad. A little disjointed from time to time. And I wonder if doing cocaine up your ass would kill you or not? Hmmm.