Ah - Thailand. In my many adventures to foreign lands, few stand out in quite the same way as the Land of the Smiles. Perhaps it's the fact that I was only fresh-faced 18 year-old 'farang' when I first went there; perhaps was the heady combination of Thai Chang and menthol cigarettes that did it (never before or since - those bastards hurt).
I'd already been over there for a couple of months, seeing out my four-month 'gap-yah', when I first travelled down to Phuket. Why exactly I was heading down there I forget now, but I'm pretty sure it had absolutely nothing to do with the whole TEFL, improve the-lives-of-others shtick I'd been working on, and mostly everything to do with the fun-time socialising, generally-getting-obliterated-out-of-my-face shtick instead. Ah well, I'm sure Ghandi had his fair share of vacations too, you know.
Since Phuket, being in the far south of the country, was surprisingly far from Bangkok (just over 500 miles; almost the length of Lands End to John O 'Groats), getting there involved the sheer joy of a 10-hour overnight bus. Not ideal, but hey - the buses were a lot cheaper than any flights were back then, and besides which, I was lucky enough to have the delightful company of two fellow gap-yas: New Yorkian Kate and Irish Debbie. More on those two later. I kept reminding myself that the travel itself was meant to be part of the adventure (it is an unwritten rule that you must live every travel cliche in the book at 18, don't you know). I keenly booked my ticket.
Around an hour into the journey, we passed another Bangkok to Phuket bus. Unlike ours, however, this one had one significant difference: it was upside-down, smoldering in a ditch.
I would like to tell you that it was at this point that Debbie, Kate and I decided to turn back; to heed the ominous sign from above and get the hell off the coach. I would like to tell you this, but I can't because it would be a load of old tuk-tuks. No: the fun was just getting started.
I would like to tell you that it was at this point that Debbie, Kate and I decided to turn back; to heed the ominous sign from above and get the hell off the coach. I would like to tell you this, but I can't because it would be a load of old tuk-tuks. No: the fun was just getting started.
What can be literally no more than five minutes after the 'Death Coach', our own suddenly lurched to the right and back again, like some kind of drunken pass at the nearby traffic. And again.
We sat bolt-upright, adrenaline surging into our god damn eyeballs, as the coach leered back and forth to a chorus of outraged horns and gasps of dismay from inside. This was absolute suicide on the driver's behalf and would almost certainly result in certain death if it didn't stop right away. We were about to become Death Coach Part II.
Kate, the elder of the group (a seasoned veteran at 26) and who seemed to wear a foreign coat of confidence only the Americans really seem to pull off, stood up and began shouting. Loudly.
Kate, the elder of the group (a seasoned veteran at 26) and who seemed to wear a foreign coat of confidence only the Americans really seem to pull off, stood up and began shouting. Loudly.
"Stop this fucking coach."
Stunned silence.
"I mean it."
Raised American voice. Murmuring of discontentment. Kate waving her arms about indignantly. Vehicle still swerving.
"Someone stop THIS GOD DAMN COACH RIGHT NOW - I WANT TO GET OFF!"
Continued murmuring. Debbie almost in tears.
My arse cheeks clasped tight-enough to break a platinum walnut.
"I WANT TO GET OFF THIS COACH NOW! GET ME OFF THIS COACH!"
The coach, seemingly no longer able to take the impassioned wailings of an agitated American, suddenly came to an abrupt halt - in the middle of the three-lane traffic. No matter.
Debbie and I had only just begun to re-gain what was collectively left of our senses and tattered underpants, when it became clear that Kate - true to her word - was absolutely not going to stay on this fucking bus,
"I am absolutely not staying on this fucking bus," she reasoned.
"But Kate -"
"It'll be fine-"
"-No way. I'm not staying another minute on this death-trap. You can come with me if you like, but I am getting off. Right now."
And so we watched, second-by-agog-second, as Kate made her way down the coach aisle, publicly berated the driver, forced him outside, made him open the outside of the coach holdall, took her travel bag, swore, and walked off across 6 lanes of traffic into the dead of the Thai night.
Deborah and I sat in utter, astonished silence, too afraid to even look at each other. An unspoken thunderstorm of questions cracked across our minds. Should we get off the coach, too? Where the hell were we, anyway?! Would Kate be okay; how the hell was she going to get back to Bangkok? Surely this coach wasn't safe. If we stayed, what were the odds that we'd die, arse-up in a ditch? If we left, what were the odds that we'd die...arse up in a ditch? There seemed to be limited options.
What the fuck should we do we do? The coach burbled back into life and seemed to instantly evaporate all of our questions. We now had no choice: we were stuck on Death Coach Part II and Kate was out there on her own.
In fact, I can honestly say that at that moment, only one question remained in my mind; now - where did I put my menthols? It was going to be a long journey.
Debbie and I had only just begun to re-gain what was collectively left of our senses and tattered underpants, when it became clear that Kate - true to her word - was absolutely not going to stay on this fucking bus,
"I am absolutely not staying on this fucking bus," she reasoned.
"But Kate -"
"It'll be fine-"
"-No way. I'm not staying another minute on this death-trap. You can come with me if you like, but I am getting off. Right now."
And so we watched, second-by-agog-second, as Kate made her way down the coach aisle, publicly berated the driver, forced him outside, made him open the outside of the coach holdall, took her travel bag, swore, and walked off across 6 lanes of traffic into the dead of the Thai night.
Deborah and I sat in utter, astonished silence, too afraid to even look at each other. An unspoken thunderstorm of questions cracked across our minds. Should we get off the coach, too? Where the hell were we, anyway?! Would Kate be okay; how the hell was she going to get back to Bangkok? Surely this coach wasn't safe. If we stayed, what were the odds that we'd die, arse-up in a ditch? If we left, what were the odds that we'd die...arse up in a ditch? There seemed to be limited options.
What the fuck should we do we do? The coach burbled back into life and seemed to instantly evaporate all of our questions. We now had no choice: we were stuck on Death Coach Part II and Kate was out there on her own.
In fact, I can honestly say that at that moment, only one question remained in my mind; now - where did I put my menthols? It was going to be a long journey.
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