Saturday, November 17, 2007
Clare & Bri’s Excellent Adventure: Thailand
Monday, 10.22 and Tuesday, 10.23: DC to Bangkok
Our adventure began with a bit of bad luck, in the form of missing our bus to the airport. I had built in a little cushion time for us to get to the bus, but we quickly ate that up with last-minute calls to our banks and credit card companies to let them know we were traveling overseas. And so, despite a heroic dash up the escalator at Rosslyn (well, we dashed for at least half of it—that’s a long escalator!), we arrived at the bus stop two minutes too late to catch the 9:45 bus to Dulles. Since the next bus wasn’t arriving until 10:30 (the time we needed to be at the airport), we had no choice but to spend what little cash we had on us (about $50) on a cab there. But we made it with plenty of time to spare, which we kept telling ourselves in order to soothe the pain brought on by the fact that we’d just begun our supposedly budget-friendly vacation by spending $44 more than we’d intended on transportation to the airport.
Once we’d gotten checked in (a pretty smooth process, other than the fact that United claimed my backpack was too big to feed on the luggage belt and insisted that I just leave it sitting out in front of the counter where someone would pick it up, thereby ensuring that I would spend the next 24 hours worrying that my bag would still be sitting in that exact same spot when I arrived in Bangkok) and found our way to the gate, we decided to take advantage of the adjacent Starbucks and kick the trip off with a frappuccino in honor of Britney Spears, our symbolic traveling companion from the last trip. We also stocked up on tons of water on the recommendation of Tricia, a flight-attendant friend of Bri’s uncle who had sent her detailed e-mails about everything we should and should not do during the trip. Bri also bought a few magazines to keep us occupied on what we were already referring to as “the long-ass plane ride.”
If you’ve ever wondered if a 13-hour trans-Pacific flight in coach is fun, let me assure you that it most definitely is not. This flight was made even more unpleasant by a) the presence of several screaming babies, one of which was a dead ringer for Dr. Evil, b) an obviously drunk guy who didn’t seem to think that the “no smoking in the lavatory” rule applied to him (nor who seemed to understand the whole concept of locking the lavatory door, as I discovered the hard way when I accidentally barged in on him), and c) the fact that it was on United. Now, I know that I’m sort of predisposed to hate United anyway, but I did book this ticket with them (what can I say; they had the cheapest fare), so I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on this occasion only. But I have to say, this international flight was far inferior to the one I took with Northwest a couple of years ago to get to Paris, even considering that on that flight, I had to sit next to a Russian woman with a severe body-odor problem. Instead of having personal in-flight entertainment systems like Northwest (which are only available to United’s first-class passengers), United still has the same system they did when I flew with them to England nearly a decade ago, in which you can pick your movies, but not when you watch them. Not that being able to pick the movie did us much good—Bri and I had been looking forward to watching Knocked Up, but the sound wasn’t working on it, so we were forced to watch License to Wed instead (which wasn’t that bad, all things considered). Then there was the food. Oh, the food. It was even more terrible than I remembered. And on a flight this long, we were eating four to five meals in the air. By the end of it, I thought I was going to die from a sodium overdose.
We finally landed in Tokyo, where we marveled at the vending machines, ate some sushi, bought some Japanese Visine drops for my red and scratchy eyes, and got as much exercise as possible in our captive environment in preparation for the six-hour flight to Bangkok. The entertainment system on that one harkened way back to my first international flight in 1995 (you know, big screen at the front of the cabin, everyone forced to watch the same movie), but by that time we were too tired to care. We tried our best to sleep, but it wasn’t too easy with the boisterous Japanese flight attendants constantly bustling up and down the aisles. But after a 13-hour flight, 6 hours in the air seemed like a piece of cake.
Upon landing in Bangkok, the first thing I noticed as I stepped off the plane and walked across the tarmac to our shuttle bus was the warmth and humidity, both very welcome after the frigid, arid plane air. The next thing I noticed was the smell—I had heard horror stories about the bad smells of Bangkok, so my nose was prepared for the worst, but this wasn’t bad…just different. It was a little sour, with a hint of spice. It reminded me of nothing so much as a wet dog. But I didn’t have too much time to ponder the wet-dog smell and its origins, as soon we were shuttled off to the marathon passport control line. Bri and I of course managed to get into the slowest-moving line, where we had plenty of time to observe and comment on our fellow travelers, including a fairly obvious cross-dresser who bore a strong resemblance to Screech dressed as “Barbara Bush.” We also had the distinct misfortune of being in line directly in front of a Korean woman who, in an attempt to deceive herself into thinking she was moving forward faster than she was, kept completely invading our personal space. Finally, we made it through the line and, after plucking my bag off the carousel (it did make it!), made our way through the taxi touts until we found the driver we’d booked through our hotel.
Driving away from the airport, we immediately noticed the gigantic billboards. Maybe we were a little loopy from the 24 hours of travel, but for whatever reason, the huge billboards just captivated us. The rest of our transition into Bangkok was pretty smooth, as we soon arrived at the Phranakorn-Nornlen (which indeed proved to be the soothing oasis in the city that it billed itself as), checked in, took a much-needed warm shower, then went to sleep (or in my case, tried to go to sleep and pretty much failed).
Continue to Day 3, Bangkok
Monday, 10.22 and Tuesday, 10.23: DC to Bangkok
Our adventure began with a bit of bad luck, in the form of missing our bus to the airport. I had built in a little cushion time for us to get to the bus, but we quickly ate that up with last-minute calls to our banks and credit card companies to let them know we were traveling overseas. And so, despite a heroic dash up the escalator at Rosslyn (well, we dashed for at least half of it—that’s a long escalator!), we arrived at the bus stop two minutes too late to catch the 9:45 bus to Dulles. Since the next bus wasn’t arriving until 10:30 (the time we needed to be at the airport), we had no choice but to spend what little cash we had on us (about $50) on a cab there. But we made it with plenty of time to spare, which we kept telling ourselves in order to soothe the pain brought on by the fact that we’d just begun our supposedly budget-friendly vacation by spending $44 more than we’d intended on transportation to the airport.
Once we’d gotten checked in (a pretty smooth process, other than the fact that United claimed my backpack was too big to feed on the luggage belt and insisted that I just leave it sitting out in front of the counter where someone would pick it up, thereby ensuring that I would spend the next 24 hours worrying that my bag would still be sitting in that exact same spot when I arrived in Bangkok) and found our way to the gate, we decided to take advantage of the adjacent Starbucks and kick the trip off with a frappuccino in honor of Britney Spears, our symbolic traveling companion from the last trip. We also stocked up on tons of water on the recommendation of Tricia, a flight-attendant friend of Bri’s uncle who had sent her detailed e-mails about everything we should and should not do during the trip. Bri also bought a few magazines to keep us occupied on what we were already referring to as “the long-ass plane ride.”
If you’ve ever wondered if a 13-hour trans-Pacific flight in coach is fun, let me assure you that it most definitely is not. This flight was made even more unpleasant by a) the presence of several screaming babies, one of which was a dead ringer for Dr. Evil, b) an obviously drunk guy who didn’t seem to think that the “no smoking in the lavatory” rule applied to him (nor who seemed to understand the whole concept of locking the lavatory door, as I discovered the hard way when I accidentally barged in on him), and c) the fact that it was on United. Now, I know that I’m sort of predisposed to hate United anyway, but I did book this ticket with them (what can I say; they had the cheapest fare), so I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on this occasion only. But I have to say, this international flight was far inferior to the one I took with Northwest a couple of years ago to get to Paris, even considering that on that flight, I had to sit next to a Russian woman with a severe body-odor problem. Instead of having personal in-flight entertainment systems like Northwest (which are only available to United’s first-class passengers), United still has the same system they did when I flew with them to England nearly a decade ago, in which you can pick your movies, but not when you watch them. Not that being able to pick the movie did us much good—Bri and I had been looking forward to watching Knocked Up, but the sound wasn’t working on it, so we were forced to watch License to Wed instead (which wasn’t that bad, all things considered). Then there was the food. Oh, the food. It was even more terrible than I remembered. And on a flight this long, we were eating four to five meals in the air. By the end of it, I thought I was going to die from a sodium overdose.
We finally landed in Tokyo, where we marveled at the vending machines, ate some sushi, bought some Japanese Visine drops for my red and scratchy eyes, and got as much exercise as possible in our captive environment in preparation for the six-hour flight to Bangkok. The entertainment system on that one harkened way back to my first international flight in 1995 (you know, big screen at the front of the cabin, everyone forced to watch the same movie), but by that time we were too tired to care. We tried our best to sleep, but it wasn’t too easy with the boisterous Japanese flight attendants constantly bustling up and down the aisles. But after a 13-hour flight, 6 hours in the air seemed like a piece of cake.
Upon landing in Bangkok, the first thing I noticed as I stepped off the plane and walked across the tarmac to our shuttle bus was the warmth and humidity, both very welcome after the frigid, arid plane air. The next thing I noticed was the smell—I had heard horror stories about the bad smells of Bangkok, so my nose was prepared for the worst, but this wasn’t bad…just different. It was a little sour, with a hint of spice. It reminded me of nothing so much as a wet dog. But I didn’t have too much time to ponder the wet-dog smell and its origins, as soon we were shuttled off to the marathon passport control line. Bri and I of course managed to get into the slowest-moving line, where we had plenty of time to observe and comment on our fellow travelers, including a fairly obvious cross-dresser who bore a strong resemblance to Screech dressed as “Barbara Bush.” We also had the distinct misfortune of being in line directly in front of a Korean woman who, in an attempt to deceive herself into thinking she was moving forward faster than she was, kept completely invading our personal space. Finally, we made it through the line and, after plucking my bag off the carousel (it did make it!), made our way through the taxi touts until we found the driver we’d booked through our hotel.
Driving away from the airport, we immediately noticed the gigantic billboards. Maybe we were a little loopy from the 24 hours of travel, but for whatever reason, the huge billboards just captivated us. The rest of our transition into Bangkok was pretty smooth, as we soon arrived at the Phranakorn-Nornlen (which indeed proved to be the soothing oasis in the city that it billed itself as), checked in, took a much-needed warm shower, then went to sleep (or in my case, tried to go to sleep and pretty much failed).
Continue to Day 3, Bangkok
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