Chris goes a-traveling...

Son Chris has been in Southeast Asia for a business trip. He was able to meet up with Greg and Cheryl in Bangkok for a brief 23 hour visit. I know my boys and they always have a wildly fun time. They also share the weird habit of calling the brother's wife "sheep" or "sheepie". Chris copied us on his thank you to G and C and I found it so hilarious (and exhausting) I wanted to include it here. Chris is the non-blogger son and I did get his okay before I posted this.


Greg and Sheep,

First of all, I want to thank you for a most excellent whirlwind tour of Bangkok. As usual, we always have an excellent time. The Suan Laum (sp? please correct me) was totally cool. The jazz lounge, tasty eats, strong coffee, hanging out in an internet cafe, Cabbages and Condoms, and, of course, the Tuk-Tuk ride that went a bit too long. All was great.

Let me recount my race to the airport. I am astonished... ASTONISHED that I'm sitting in this airplane seat right now. Here is what happened:
- Hopped in cab. I felt bad that I couldn't give you a real hug goodbye.
- As soon as the cab pulled away, the driver signaled that he had no idea where he was going.
- "Airport". He said something like, "Hwan earport" repeatedly. "Airport". I didn't know the proper name of the airport. I had hoped you had covered this detail. He pulled over twice to slowly confer in two mismatched languages. Nothing that I had in my possession signaled an acceptable response. I'm freaking out. It is 3:45 and we haven't pulled away from the hotel more than a couple of blocks. I tried anything in my bag of tricks. "international", "Mumbai", "Bangkok to Mumbai", "Cathay Pacific", "Fly", "Big", "5 on clock"..... Couldn't reach you for any help. Eventually, he just turns and drives. I hope that we're going to the right place. 35 minutes later. We're at an airport.
- 4:20 or so, the counter agent confirms all is well.
- IMMIGRATION. Not happening. The line is overflowing and there is no urgency to process anything faster than 1 person every 50+ seconds. (I know. I counted it off!) I'm at least 35 people deep. This is not going to be good. I get a cheery immigration officials attention. She assures me that I can get thru the line and to the gate in the remaining 15 mins. The consensus of people around me in line is "No Way." I ask the guy in front of me if I can go in front of him. Yes. The Japanese couple in front of them offers me to go first. I decide to go big and make a big call to jump all the way to the front. I half listened-half-ignored what everyone said as I interjected myself at the front. I slowly go thru my 50 seconds at the front. I'm thru immigration.
-RUN. I sprinted. I'm talking SPRINTED thru the airport. If I miss the flight to Mumbai, I might be out of luck for days. They're all oversold. It is hard to get there. I ran O.J. Simpson style thru airport which I can do with my bag on wheels. I know that I knocked and spun at least two people. Sorry. It turns out that gate G4 is not the furthest gate from immigration. That distinction goes to gate G5. I don't know what the cheery immigration person was thinking. At a full-sprint from immigration for 10 minutes, I barely got to the gate. It was Final Call as I neared security.
-SECURITY. The security person slowly dug thru two American ladies 3-1-1 plastic bags and relieved them of several bottles greater than 100ml. She slowly rebagged my stuff into a new 1-liter plastic bag for no other reason than it was bigger than my current plastic bag.
-FINAL sprint. One last run and I'm on the plane. Maybe 4:59:30 seconds for a 5:00pm flight. There are no spots for my bag. The purser rejuggles a bunch of stuff in business class and I'm stowed in my seat. I'm streaming down sweat, filthy, and probably the only guy on the plane in shorts and t-shirt. Who cares... I'm on the plane.

Will send pics later.

CB

I can't wait to see the pics! And, gee, I wonder why Americans are always seen as being in a big hurry?