The Abandoned Bag (Thailand Travel Diary #2)

I shared a row of seats with a ravenous Italian couple during the flight to Hong Kong. They ordered a private breakfast (BEFORE the included breakfast was served), ate two platters each, as well as my croissant and shortbread! What famine is going on over there?! I wanted to ask, but “gracias” was all I got. Any attempt to sleep was interrupted by being bumped by the coffee cart, kicked by Chuck Norris Junior who was seated behind me, or by “mi scusi” ‘s by one of the Italian lovers needing to ablute. I finally disembarked in a zombie-like state.

Now was my moment to stroll past the crowds (fog-brained) with my pre-approved and hard-fought visa! I queued with a different mass of sweaty humans and chatted with a fellow solo traveler – Beatrice from Brazil. She was first to approach the man in military uniform, but got sent back! I saw her dash off and took my turn. We needed some paper showing that our countries didn’t require Covid-free approval. I asked for a stamp and signature to up the value of my paper.

We were now at the very back of a new queue. I faced a military woman this time, who asked for the address of my friend’s place where I would be staying. My little red book had fingernail imprints on it now, but I could not find that printed page! My phone was forgetting how to recognise my sweaty fingerprint, but I managed to present a digital doc. Now to collect my taped-up backpack.

Carousel 8, the digital board said. It had stopped moving with no collectors in sight. I asked a uniformed person and apologised for being late. She pointed to the unclaimed bags. Mine was not there! I asked again and showed her my flight ticket. The correct carousel was at the opposite end of the massive baggage claim area. I did a zombie jog to find no humans, but by abandoned bag. Thank Buddha. Just take me to my hotel already!

Now properly emotionally and somewhat physically scarred, I got directed to an electric taxi service. The two Thai girls there showed great empathy and began dabbing my drenched face with paper towels. I know I paid more than I should have for an 11-minute taxi ride, but I cared not. I needed a bum gun and a shower!

Next: Thailand #3 – Hello Bum Gun My Old Friend

Previously: Thailand #1 – The Little Red Book