Dry

Bangkok seems like there is a lot to it that I missed. I didn't see all of the palaces and the Buddhas and all of the other Thai splendor that is housed there. I probably should have. But I, along with others I spoke with, tended to steer clear of the city for a number of reasons.

To be fair, most travelers get herded to the Khao San Road neighborhood which I am certain is not a fair representation of the whole of Bangkok. It is, however, the lion's share of the impression of Bangkok left on most visitors to Thailand. On Khao San, men are constantly touted for "boom boom", and sex shows, "tuk tuk" and taxi rides, massages, orange juice, rooms for rent, tours, lots and lots of random merchandise... You name it. You literally can't walk ten feet without being solicited for something. Beyond that, there is the poor air quality (my pansy-Frisco-air-breathing throat hurt as soon as I arrived), crazy traffic (motorbikes and cars drive straight through crowded pedestrian areas and sometimes sidewalks).

But, for me, it always seems to have this sloppy drunk aura around it, especially at night. Twenty somethings drinking buckets filled with liquor with six straws hanging out (so you can suck more through at one time). By nine or so, they are generally stumbling around, whooping it up. Mostly just good fun. But a little too much for me, frankly.

I considered staying in another neighborhood for my last night in Asia. But the trouble is, Khao San is just so gosh darn convenient for everything you need. They really do cater to us travelers. Also, there are so many guest houses there, it is easy to just show up in town and look for a place. In other neighborhoods you really need a reservation well in advance and will likely pay more. So there I was again.

But this time, I got a little treat. The next day was election day in Bangkok. They have a law that no alcohol can be sold something like thirty six hours before voting ends. This provided a rare opportunity to see what happens on Khao San when almost no one is drunk.

Don't get me wrong. I do enjoy my cocktails, and normally a rule like this would make me harumph. But I liked it. And the funny thing was, the town didn't appear that different. People were still out in the same places socializing, and walking the streets, only with soda water and Cokes instead of beers and buckets. It was just as busy and bustling, just a bit more quiet and civilized than usual.

Perfect since I had to wake at 7:30 am to make my bus to the airport.

That all went off without a hitch, and I made it to Taipei with a five hour layover ahead of me. Yuck.

As I was leaving the airplane, I couldn't help thinking that I was forgetting something. I do the pat down for my wallet; Checked for my passport, my Ipod, the book I was reading. I guess that's everything. But why do I feel like it isn't?

I got about two hundred yards into the terminal and I remembered. My head cushion! An inflatable one. I had stuffed it under my seat and forgot it. Damn!

This was my second cushion of the trip so far. The first one sprung a leak, and this one had been pricey, even when purchased in Thailand. I really didn't want to buy yet another one, I have a long, long overnight plane ride ahead, and I have a few hours to kill. So I take it upon myself to try and recover it.

I walk back to the gate. Shut and deserted.

I walk back to where an information officer had been directing people. Maybe he could help. Now he's gone too.

The only option here is for arrivals to go through immigration, or take a train to Terminal 2 where my flight is. Maybe someone at the counter can help. So I take the train.

The very nice China Airlines lady in Terminal 2 seems concerned and wants to help, but she cannot leave Terminal 2 and sends me back to Terminal 1 where I am assured someone there can take me to check the plane. So I take the train back.

Apparently Terminal 1 workers don't get the same smile training as the others do. He was not so friendly, but just couldn't quite bring himself to swat me away without at least trying. So he radios someone. They say they didn't find it. I say I know it's there. I know it was left under the seat. He strains to tell me to take a hike, but just can't seem to do it. He lets out a big sigh and tells me he will take me the two hundred yards back to the plane, unlock the gate, and let me in to check the seat for myself. I give him my polite thanks and walk in silence back with him as he punches through a series of security doors. Wow, cool. A dormant airplane.

Only it's not dormant at all. It's party time for the cleaning crew, who seems to have finished early with time to spare for schmoozing. The guy guides me into the plane where the crew are looking flabbergasted at my presence. I check the seat. Not there. I say "It must have been put in the garbage then, because I am certain it was there." He sighs and goes to join the party crew and barks some words in Chinese. At this point, I am pretty shocked at the lengths they are going for my stupid balloon pillow.

I wait patiently as someone goes downstairs to the tarmac and actually digs around in the garbage bags. The guy asks me to wait outside while they look. After about five minutes he emerges with my pillow.

Awesome! I thank him sincerely and ask him to thank the party crew as well. Now I can sleep on the plane peacefully without further expenditure.

Only four and a half more hours to wait... and soon I'll be back in what is still my favorite city anywhere, San Francisco.