Part I: The Short-Distance Scam

Humbled is the word of the day. Fresh off the plane in Bangkok, I walked confidently to the taxi stand, knowing the system required a centralized attendant to offer a predetermined fare to avoid scams. That logic apparently does not exist for short trips to airport hotels. The “short distance” attendant (yes, it was its own stand) called over a salivating driver, muttered something in Thai, and told me to follow. The driver grabbed my bag, tossed it into the back of a Toyota Highlander, the only SUV in the lot, and flatly refused to turn on the meter, demanding 300 baht ($10).


My limited Thai left me unable to explain that I clearly did not need or request an SUV. I countered with an offer of 200 baht and pulled up the Grab rideshare app to show him the actual local rate of 180 baht. We ultimately settled on 250 baht. Fresh off a grueling 42-hour commute from Seattle, including long transit times in Vancouver and Hong Kong, I simply lacked the energy to walk away over a two-dollar difference.


Part II: A Little Spicy


After checking into my hotel, I wandered over to a nearby local market that was entirely empty of tourists. Feeling overwhelmed by the options, I stopped at a stall where the vendor was making somtam, a traditional papaya salad. I asked in basic Thai if he had it, which earned me a bewildered look, likely because the answer was blindingly obvious. I managed to communicate my peanut allergy, and he began shaving papaya, carrots, tomatoes, and lime into the bowl.


Then he paused, held up a fresh chili, and asked if I wanted it spicy. Seeing that he had already thrown eight chilies into the bowl, I told him “just a little bit spicy.” His interpretation of a “little bit” was to remove four of them.


The first few bites were great and gave me a false sense of cultural pride. The next few bites absolutely broke me. I burned through the rest of my dinner budget on drinks over the next ten minutes and still could not finish the plate. It was a painful, sweat-inducing reminder of my own limitations. From here on out, my official catchphrase is mai ped: not spicy.


The Som Tam Experiment

  • Initial Dosage: 8 chilies (Standard local spec)
  • Modified Dosage: 4 chilies ("Niit noy" / A little bit)
  • Tolerance Limit: 6 to 7 bites of pure compliance
  • Antidote Required: 2 bottles of water + 2 Coca-Colas


Part III: The Arithmetic of Fatigue


On the walk back, I passed an endless row of massage parlors. The sticky, suffocating humidity was hitting me hard, so the promise of air conditioning and a 60-minute massage for a posted price of 350 baht was impossible to resist. When I requested the service in Thai, the receptionist immediately quoted me 300 baht. I did not ask questions. I just assumed my overpriced airport taxi had officially been balanced out by a discounted battering of my sore muscles.


I unlocked my hotel room door at 9:50 PM, right before a wave of absolute panic hit. I realized my fanny pack, containing my passport, credit cards, and a month of cash, was missing. The massage parlor closed at 10:00 PM. I sprinted to the lobby, but the front desk could not get anyone to answer the phone, so they kindly drove me back themselves. The lights were out and the doors were locked.


Defeated, I trudged back to my room to check the location tracker I had placed in the bag before leaving Seattle. It was sitting quietly inside the room safe, exactly where I had locked it before leaving for dinner. The hotel is getting a five-star review, both for driving me down the street in a panic and for providing a room safe that is entirely impermeable to my own sleep-deprived memory. Time to crash?


As I predicted, it didn’t take long for the smooth comfort of the lounges to be traded for the chaotic, spicy reality of the ground, and proving that my brain desperately needs to rest. Not much in the way of photos from BKK. Too busy trying to cool down my mouth and lower my heart rate.