December 31, 2002 – Opey de Place

 

It's New Year's Eve here at the bat-cave from where we send out our best wishes and chok dee (good luck) to our friends and family (that's you) across the globe.

 

Tonight for our third anniversary, me and the missus will attend a fine meal under the evening sky at the venue where we long ago had our first date.    Being the helpless romantics that we are, we'll be sure to be caught up in the passion of the New Year's festivities, enjoy the fire-works, and fall in love all over again.  And, if that isn't that enough to give you diarrhea, we wonder what you’ll be doing at this turning of time.

 

On an even more domestic note, we've finally settled in at the Ford Ranch @ SEA.  Actually, I think greater powers were at work in lending a guiding hand during our quest as we almost wasted a lot of money staying in a fancy apartment/hotel for 19,000THB per month.  I know at forty-two and a half to one it might sound cheap, but after a month of me gallivanting, carousing, and condo searching I really had nothing to show for it, except for a fairly sizeable dent in my cash reserves. 

 

Jum asked repeatedly in her new-and-improved English what the hell I’d been doing all this time.  So upon her arrival, I took her on a crash course in condo hunting to prove a point.  After two days of touring with shifty condo salesmen and greedy baht-bus drivers she succumbed to the fact that even the best of what we could find were overpriced jail cells.  She’s learned a new phrase from the ordeal:  This shit ain't easy!

 

When we gave up on the idea of searching for a condo and opted for the overpriced apartment/hotel, we were both well ready to throw up our hands in defeat, pay the big bill, and dive into the pool so as to keep our cool.  As I approached the counter at the now infamous Opey de Place, I felt the roll of baht notes in my pocket throb with a sudden twang of parsimony.  We’d already stayed at Uncle Tom’s Stabbin’ Cabin for our promised “no longer than a couple days” while the lift at Opey was fixed and a drunk slept off our hangover in our reserved room.  Being on a tight budget, this sizeable investment would affect us for the rest of our stay here, but the thought of pounding the pavement once again under the hot Southeast Asian sun had us bowing our heads to the hand of fate. 

 

“Nineteen tauwsen for room and tree tauwsen security deposit.”  Said the smiling lady at reception who immediately stopped smiling when she saw the shock on my face.

 

“You want me to pay up front?”  I asked.

 

“You pay now, Sir.” She replied.

 

Shit!  I thought inwardly as I clutched what I thought would be ten days rent plus spending money in my hand.  I recovered quickly enough to offer a credit card which I peeled from my financial contingency quiver that consisted of two visa cards, one Amex, an ATM card, and two forms of identification depicting my likeness at a more hairless time.  These were all wrapped in a thick pink rubber band that once served to hold together heads of broccoli in another land far and away where they do things like that.

 

“I'll pay by credit card” I said, slightly relieved as I pointed to the various credit card icons on the reservation form.  I fanned them out before her as if performing a card trick.  Her smile didn’t return.

 

“No can use gahd, Sir.  Sorry Sir.”  Her eyes were determined not to meet mine now, and she stared down at her hands below the counter, fidgeting.

 

Against my better judgment, I got pissed.  Long story short:  I asked for my deposit back from two weeks ago to hold the room, told Jum to wait there, and stormed off.  I really just wanted to get away so as to not yell at anyone.  I went to the water and watched the boats bob in the tide while I thought what to do.

 

My thoughts themselves bobbed: rising and falling, shifting and listing.  I could have paid it, but something within me said not to.  I liked the place, but something said there was another place somewhere out there waiting for us.  Perhaps it was the principle, or the wee bit of Scottish blood running in my veins, or some other force at work; regardless, I was determined to regain my lost face, find a new place, and take my business elsewhere.  I stopped at no less than four hotels on the way back ready to book for a few nights more so that we could continue our search from a new locale which didn’t require twenty-two tauwsen cash up front.  Each and every hotel, flophouse, and brothel had a sign at reception that read in oversized, bold letters: FULL. 

 

It was Christmas Day, and there was not a room to be found.  I’d lost again. Defeated, I returned to that dirty, dirty Opey de Place prepared to face the consequences of losing even more face while paying through the rear.

 

“OK, Sorry.  I’m not mad anymore.  I can pay cash.”  I smiled sheepishly hoping for one in return, and smile she did and scratched her head in the manner of someone attempting a complex math problem.

 

“Sorry Sir.  We give your room away already.”  It had been no more than thirty minutes.  At that, all I could do was laugh.

 

The Thai lesson for the day is to always keep your cool, for getting jai lorn (angry) doesn't get you anywhere with the people of this land.  It only makes you—or in this case—me, the asshole, lose face; and—in this case—lose my apartment.

 

As fate would have it, we now reside deep in a heart of Thailand.  Not really, but it’s a home for now, and it costs as much for three months here as would that evil Opey for a mere thirty days.  I mean, what kind a name is Opey de Place anyhow?  It’s like a Hawaiian Mayberry or something!  Anyhow, with the money saved still in our pockets we we’re able to head for the nearest Lotus (the Thai version of Costco) and buy all of the required essentials for domestic living for less than the equivalent of a hundred US greenbacks.

 

Life is good. 

 

Aloha and Sawasdee.

 

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