Despite having only three days to prepare, an insufficient bank balance, and initially unconvinced parents, I left for Thailand on June 16. I bought the ticket the day before, then finally allowed myself to believe it was real enough to actually start packing that night. Packing for 3 weeks is no small feat and I reluctantly pulled an all-nighter.
The next day I was off to my "Happiest Place on Earth." I had visited last summer with some of my best friends, and I literally had the best time in my life. The people are friendly, funny, and hospitable; the food is spicy and delicious; and the sights are incomparable: from islands that are as close to paradise as you can get, to ornate golden temples and palaces, to exotic jungles and elephant rides.
Although I had to catch a different flight than my friends (with no complaints as it was $400 cheaper) I met some interesting people along the way. I even happened upon someone from Redlands with whom I had mutual friends! Ludacris.
However, you get what you pay for. The seats felt as if they were leaning you forward and there were no TV's, which is very unusual for an international airline. It ceratainly wasn't a deal-breaker though as I always come prepared with an excessive supply of books.
When I arrived at immigration I realized I hadn't been given an arrival slip (stating your reason for visiting, where you'll be staying, Passport number,etc)on the plane. Of course I waited 20 minutes in line before I was informed I'd have to fill it out. Being such a short form I expected her to hand me one. To my dismay she just looked past me and said "Next!"
I asked her where to get one, and she waved me off with a dismissive hand and said "somewhere over there," motioning broadly to where I'd just come from: a large room and hall. As soon as I turned to look where she was pointing, hoping to see some sort of sign, she screamed "You CAN'T stand here!!!!" so loud it made me jump. I felt my face getting hot, and I flushed with anger. Quite possibly the least helpful person I've ever met.
I wandered around looking for papers laying about and thankfully found them quickly. I got back into a longer line and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. Hopefully I filled out the right form. A larger Irish couple in front of me glanced back. I knew they saw what happened and were just glad it wasn't them. A group of Thai men behind me clapped at a mosquito that was heading my way. I nodded and smiled.
I like how everyone nods at each other here, or puts their hands in a praying position in front of their face as a sign of respect or a greeting. Respect is such lost art in America. I'm pretty sure if I nodded as much there as I do here, people would just be slightly afraid of me, or think I have a tick.
I looked for the upstairs restaurant we'd eaten at last time that was to be our meeting point. But after I stepped off the elevator I wasn't met with the smiling faces of my friends, but construction and a roped off door with a sign reading "Sorry, Restaurant Closed."
They had given me the number of the driver in case I couldn't find them, because they hadn't bought an international phone/card yet. So I looked for an exchange booth, changed $5, and headed for a pay phone. One tiny problem. I forgot the driver doesn't speak English. I just kept repeating my friends names "Kop" "Gop" "lost" and "airport." I glanced helplessly at a young guy lounging in a chair next to the phone, obviously on break from the exchange booth.
"Do you speak English?" I asked, hoping he could translate my simple message. I was sure they'd landed already and had been in contact with the driver. He just smiled and shook his head. Hmmmmm. In times of need the "land of smiles" is more frustrating than endearing.
I walked to and fro covering as much space as possible. I tried all three levels and scanned other restaurants. I whispered a prayer for help finding them, I did not want my first hour in Thailand to be dominated by stress and fear. No thanks.
After about 30-40 minutes I saw a sign for a designated "meeting point" and decided to give it a try. I saw them immediately. Gop and Josh had split up looking for me, and came back shortly. They'd all been waiting at the restaurant (turns out I went to the wrong one) and had eaten dinner. Sweaty, tired, and starving, I had to make an effort not to resent them just a little.
But their excitment was contagious as soon as we got into the van. For three of them (Ryan, Josh, and Jason) it was their first time. Their reactions to everything were a sort of deja vu: The neon green and pink taxis, the palpable humidity, the beautifully-framed pictures of the King everywhere.
We arrived at the condo, and it was just like I remembered. Not that it was that long ago. Two men dressed in Marine-officer-looking attire with whistles waved us into the driveway and saluted us. The Bandara condos consist of two bright orange and white buildings, which oddly enough, fits in with Thailand's theme of shocking colors.
We were in the second building this time. After we checked in by showing our passports, we headed through the lobby of our building to the elevator. The lobby was actually an elegant-looking wine bar. Framed by ceiling to floor windows, and decorated in an edgy, minimalist style of black and white, it looked like a cross between a lounge and a spa. There was fountain and pond with lily pads under the stairs, but if you stayed too long there was a risk of mosquito bites.
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