Charity Sometimes Faileth (Volume 2)

Continued from Thursday...

The door of the van swung open and I looked inside to see enough seating for fourteen Thai-sized passengers. There was a bench in front where the driver and two others sat and another four rows behind him. These vans wait at the pier until they are completely full before departing. I was the eleventh customer of the necessary fourteen and, of course, the only available seat was in the back row. I would have had an easier time climbing through the tunnels and up to the little helicopter seat in a McDonalds play-place than I did climbing over people to get to the back of that van. The temptation to make a break for a taxi was overwhelming, but I stuck it out and eventually arrived in my seat after stepping on several toes and even bumping a woman as I swung my freakishly-large posterior into position.

After alienating every other passenger in the van it was wonderful to sit together in complete silence for another ten-fifteen minutes as we waited to reach maximum capacity. After composing myself, I began looking around and noticing that there were ten very professional looking Thai women in this van - and me. I also began to realize that an enclosed space was probably not the best place for me to be at this point in the day. Unfortunately, the van's rather limited air-conditioning didn't want to travel the 3.5 kilometers necesary to cool down those of us in the back. Since I had taken a tuk-tuk to the pier and sat for forty minutes in an open boat, I had a pretty good sweat going by this point. I was hot and sticky. I felt awful and I probably smelled worse. It's amazing how dirty you can get in Bangkok from just walking down the street through a cloud of diesel exhaust, fish odors, fried peppers, and raw sewage.

Eventually, the door opened again and more Thai women prepared to get into the van. After looking inside and seeing the only available seats were in the same row as this sweat-soaked, red-faced, slightly odd-looking farang, I'm sure these women must have considered taking a taxi themselves. But, they entered anyway and we were on our way. I remembered that I hadn't paid for this voyage of despair. When does that happen, and how much it was it again and who am I supposed to pay? So many questions...

It was an uncomfortable ride for so many reasons. The seats are so close together that there's absolutely no place to put my legs (I keep meaning to get those detachable limbs, so I can just fold my legs up and put them in on a roof rack) and so the poor woman in front of me is practically sitting in my lap (not as awkward as having a Ecuadoran woman massage your butt, but awkward nonetheless). Meanwhile, it appears that the ladies next to me have picked up my scent. On my right one womans is clawing at the window latch trying to let some fresh air in, on my left another woman is frantically searching through her purse for a surgical mask or Glade-fresh plug-in, anything that will help purify the air I am currently polluting. These Thai woman are a mystery to me. It's ninety degrees outside with 100% humidity, they are wearing these heavy polyester suit jackets, and they all look like they could be on the front of the J. Crew fall collection catalogue. I, on the other hand, look (and smell) like I fell into a nearby canal.

To make matters worse, the longer I sat there the more my inate sense of claustrophobia starts to intensify. I start to realize that, seated four rows back from the nearest exit, I'm a virtual prisoner. I don't really know where I'm going, I'm certainly not going to ask anyone, and I can barely move with both my backpack and a person in my lap. Plus, I sit up so high in this passenger van, and the view angle out the window is so steep, that when I try to look outside to see where we're going, all I can see is the sidewalk and cars parked along the street. This van could be headed to BURMA, and I wouldn't know it until we were there. When we arrived the border guards would ask me the purpose of my visit and I'd say "I'm just trying to get to Nichada!" They'd arrest me on opium smuggling charges, for sure.

After what seemed to like an eternity (in actuality only twenty-five minutes) we stop and the door opens again to freedom, sweet freedom! Since everyone else files out in front out me I managed to exit the van without injuring anyone but myself, hitting my head on some sort of attachment near the door. After snapping my spinal cord back into place, I look around and notice some passengers are filing back into the van while others are paying a lady for their trip. I pay my ten baht, the van rumbles off down the road, and I remember that not only am I still NOT home, I really don't know where I am. As Ton had predicted, there was a nearby queue of motorcycle drivers waiting for potential passengers. One approached me again with the customary "Hey you! Where you go!" and started to grab my arm and drag me toward his motorcycle. "Twenty baht! Twenty baht!" Yeah, that's exactly what I wanted at this point - to spend the next half hour weaving through traffic with my arms wrapped around some greasy Thai version of 'Snake' (from the Simpsons.) Unfortunately for him, I had already been considerate of one persons feelings today - and that was my limit.

After throwing Mr. 'Twenty-Baht' into oncoming traffic, I did what I should have done from the very beginning. I hailed down a taxi and told him to take me to Nichada. It turns out I was only about ten minutes away from home, but since any taxi fare starts at 35 baht and goes up from there, it still cost me fifty to get to Danicha Gardens.

So, if you happen to be scoring at home, the 20 mile journey from the archives to home involved a tuk-tuk, a riverboat, a commuter van, and now a regular taxi.

Net savings: twenty baht (sixty cents)

Time saved: negative twenty minutes

The next day when I arrived at the microfilm room in the library, I was greeted by a smiling Ton who asked me how the trip had gone.

"Fine," I said, "You were right. It was cheaper."

"Oh, good." said Ton, "I was afraid that the van might be a little uncomfortable for someone your size."

*sigh*