Join me as I travel in style to Bangkok and back.
By the time I realized I had made the wrong decision, it was too late. All I could then do was pray for my life, and if I lived, pray that my wife didn’t kill me when I returned home…
Photo courtesy of wikimedia commons |
The evening began simply enough. My mom, who is also in Bangkok right now but not at my hotel, emailed to tell me where we were meeting for dinner. I plugged the name of the restaurant into Google Maps and identified the closest SkyTrain stop. About half an hour before the scheduled meet up, I headed out.
I made it to the SkyTrain stop without any trouble, and walked the rest of the way. The walk seemed longer than I had expected, but I still made it in time. I told the restaurant host that I was there to meet others. “Thai?” He asked. “American,” I said. He nodded definitively and led me through the restaurant.
He took me to an American family that I didn’t recognize. I’m sure they were perfectly nice, and probably would have made excellent dining companions, but I told the host that they were the wrong group. That was, arguably, my first bad decision.
It turned out that there were multiple restaurants with this same name in Bangkok. I was at the wrong one. I asked the host what was the best way to get to the right one. The SkyTrain would work, but it would require a lot of walking, backtracking, and a train change. He told me that a taxi would take about an hour because of Bangkok’s impenetrable traffic. He suggested that a motorbike would be the fastest option.
I walked out of the restaurant undecided about what to do. I started in the general direction of the SkyTrain, but directly across the street was a line of motorbikes looking for passengers. I decided to give it a shot.
Moments later, I was on the back of a motorbike, flying towards the intended restaurant. The reason motorbikes go faster than taxis or tuk-tuks in traffic is that they can ride with ease between the cars, trucks, and tuk-tuks. I knew that, of course. What I didn’t know was how fast these motorbikes could go. We flew down one road after another, between cars and trucks at what seemed to me to be highway speeds. I was terrified! Here is roughly what went through my mind:
-What the f#&%!!! was I thinking?!!!!
-The driver has survived many rides through the city so far (I assume), so I should be OK, right? No! He’s wearing a helmet! I’m not! Crap!
-Should I ask him to stop? I can get a taxi. Do I dare distract him at all? No!!!
-I wonder what Thai hospitals are like. I hope I don’t find out…
-My wife’s going to kill me. Please God, get me through this so that my wife can kill me at home!
-What the f#&%!!! was I thinking?!!!!
In what seemed like hours, but was probably more like 10 minutes, we made it to the intended restaurant. I was pale, shaking like a leaf, but unharmed. I entered the restaurant and told the host I was there to meet others. He showed me to a table full of people I didn’t recognize…