Power Duty-Free

Bangkok's Don Muang Airport

Anyone tracking me through Bangkok airport’s King Power Duty Free in the early morning of December 2nd (12:30 to 2am) would have witnessed a Family Circle-esque dotted path of squiggles and backtracks and serpentines. Why? Because someone was recently rich with a royal B. 970.50 from the VAT refund and with no real purchasing goals (nor purchase power – about $20). I negotiated a very sleepy, hair splitting, baht counting series of purchases that (Lancome Ultra lash, chips, extra waters and oddly packaged Tiger balm throat lozenges) brought me to B. 0.

Felt like I was dipping in and out of consciousness, amazed to get myself to the gate on time, to once more see the familiar faces from the chaos of the check-in line. Check in on Kuwait Airways = sharply dressed Kuwaitis in business class, and cheapie travelers with souvenirs from Southeast Asia in the hairpin-ing economy line. Our (my) line a mélange of thrifty tourists, each with at least one fake Polo bag/Diesel shirt, in a Red Bull/Beer Lao/Singha tee, toting oddly packaged fans, conical hats, bulky wrapped treasures and Angkor rubbings in tidy palm tubes.

R got off safely on his slightly more upscale Korean Air flight, that left a civilized 2 and a half hours before my own. We had some strain filling a day in Bangkok which had begun at 6:30 in Siem Reap and which will end in New York tomorrow/today afternoon. Alleviated the strain with another fantastic massage wrap thing at the Chi Spa (no need for the computerized Chi readings this go – we knew our elements) followed by a lovely long dinner at the hotel’s Next2 bar/restaurant/outdoor thing. Kept lively with SAS’s Celebrate Scandinavia celebration – and a live band. And then to the airport, and now to hear – my crummy little seat with my skinny little blanket (which I have to return at flight’s end, as if I’d steal).

As we fly, our crummy, gills-filled flight passing over Amman, and then the romance begins with Al-Hufhuf, Al-Mananah, coastlines and relevancies I don’t recognize, interspersed with a few names I do – Makkah, Bahrain, Bandar Abbas, Shiraz, Doha and while I sleep we’ll make our way over eastern Europe to London.

C