Warnings in March 2011

It was one of those days when I’d wished I’d left my jacket at home. The day started off cool enough with me being comfy under my covers, but by the time midday rolled around it was sunny and showing all the signs that Spring was on its way. All of the taxi drivers had their windows open, and the bushes in between the bike lane and the street had nice little buds popping out of all of them. I could hear the tea pickers rejoicing as I waited for my cab to come. I could hear the sounds of cameras snapping away at all of the plum blossoms around town. Not that the really snap anymore, but I could hear them anyway. As you might have read last month, my February started off on the hillside in the middle of Thailand, and was the weather fantastic or what? But after a very long last night in Bangkok, I missed my 4:10am plane flight, and had somehow lost my bag. Don’t ask me how I lost it exactly, but I did and now it’s gone. Thankfully I had all of my money and my passport in my pockets, but that was it, no jacket that I had worn for well over ten years, no razor blade handle that I had used for close to twenty years, no shoes that were on my feet for the past three years, no keys and none of the other stuff that I had bought for everybody’s presents on the way back. Nothing but the sandals on my bare feet, the T-shirt on my back, and the pants I had thankfully changed into just before getting into that Burmuda Triangle-like taxi ride to the airport. I was in for a cold landing into the middle kingdom.

I got off of the plane and immediately began to shiver. Then while in the bathroom doing what a man does after a long flight, I noticed that I had somehow split the ass out of my pants. That’s right folks, in all of the mayhem leading up to the flight I had somehow made a slice in my pants that went from my right side front pocket all the way down to my middle exit hatch. Now I was freezing and embarassed at the same time. Then on to the long distance bus station which was conveniently located on the other side of the airport. No, I wasn’t wasting anymore money on a taxi ride home. I had wasted enough cash on the new plane ticket I had to buy because I missed my first flight. I got ticket number one which meant that I just missed the previous bus. So I sat there in the icebox of a waiting room for about 45 minutes before we started boarding the bus. When I finally got home, it was rush hour and there were no taxis in sight, so I had to walk home. I didn’t wish that I had left my jacket at home. Welcome Spring.

By Tim Hoerle