out of the samurai and into the thai

day two: I wake up in narita airport, on the bench, having slept alright. strange dreams influenced by passing people with carts of luggage bound for all destinations worldwide, fluttering little bits of data. tried to cancel my phone, and though she assured me last night I could do it this morning alright, their system was down so I was entered into yet another nightmarish session of watching people toy with the fate of my pocketbook and ability to accomplish my desired task in a language I don't understand, seemingly idly tapping things into a computer, chatting about the results, consulting others (occasionally via telephone), etc... after half an hour or so, when I really should've been getting to the airline check-in, especially considering the high-priced results of my failure to do so in a punctual manner the night before, their computer magically started to work and I got it done, got through check out and all that without much of a hitch. in the terminal, waiting for our plane, I had my first taste of reverse culture-shock: a 40something gay man with a gut, and a retired teacher with an easy if somewhat grating laugh, both american, were chatting behind me about this and that, and I couldn't block them out! it was like my mind was locked on to their every spoken and grammatical nuance, determined to squeeze every bit of droll meaning from their sentences, despite the obvious lack of use in doing so. and I realized the flip side of the frustration I felt in japan at not knowing what was going on: the fact that sometimes you don't really want to know what's going on. I guess I-pods or cell phones or other electronic devices are the current solution for being stuck in one's present reality. I'd rather find a way to make that reality pleasant somehow, but the old lady and the dude, whose name is Steven by the way (he has more of a role to play in this little story), made that pretty difficult. anyway, we boarded the plane, and I was yet again locked on to the rapid and inane utterances of mr. steven as he directed non-english speaking passengers in the seat in front of me how to load their luggage in the overhead compartments...in english... before... he realized.... that his seat was in MY row. yes, in fact, he realized with a start that he was seated right next to me. chest pains. severe mental hemorrhaging. initiate pre-traumatic stress syndrome, level five. he sits down. his mouth opens. it literally doesn't close till we touch down in Thailand, five hours later, and even then, after having been regaled about several of his boyfriends, his refurbished car and apartment business, his dispassion for work and his numerous hilarious stories in Bangkok involving prostitutes and sex changes, he continued talking to me right through customs, hoping that his floated offer of a place to stay for tonight 'since its getting late and you don't want to be clubbed over the head looking like a lost tourist in Ko San road' would be accepted, but it was politely and firmly declined; quite aside from him being an older gay man inviting me to his hotel for the night (and having previously mentioned how 'some straight guys just try it and realize they really like it'), I couldn't have stood another minute of his chatter. the man needs a clone of himself to realize just what its like to be on the other side of that barrage of chatter, into which one may at times enter, but only to but cut off, outdone or ignored... no, I guess it wasn't that bad really. I just spent about 30 baht describing it to you, but I maybe learned some useful information from him, and at least got practice in dealing with such people, and again realized 'there are worse things than being alone' (a quote from a favorite musician of mine, connor oberst). anyway, got out of the airport, talked to a nice old british fellow on the long bus ride into bangkok, whose streets are totally flooded with cars, and motorcycles weaving through the cars, and people crossing wherever and whenever they want, in stark contrast to japanese people waiting at a don't walk sign despite there being no traffic in either direction. got to Khao Sarn (say: koh san) road, the famed street for cheap accommodations suited to backpackers such as myself, booked into a place undoubtedly too expensive at 800baht a night (about 15 dollars), since there are apparently alright places in the area for 150, but I was tired and it seemed like a good idea not to jump into the thick of this adventure too quickly. to my credit, I did buy and eat a bag of roasted grasshoppers tonight from a street vendor--big ones, too, like 3 inches or so in length, legs all twisted from the frying... but actually, they were pretty good, if a little crunchy. and oh my god! there are so many street vendors here with so much good stuff! fresh papaya slices, 20 cents each! whole pineapples sliced up, 40 cents! spring rolls! beer! yakisoba! crepes! grasshoppers! I stopped at a little vegetarian restaurant and wanted to eat everything on the menu--ended up with some citrusy (citrusy? gimme a break, I've been speaking more japanese than english the last few months...) yellow veggie and tofu curry, and a bottle of Singtau beer, brewed here in Thailand. so tasty, and seriously like 80 cents for a hearty meal. and all the fruit waiting outside... and I may have seen prostitutes, and definitely saw stalls selling pirated CDs and fake IDs/drivers licenses/teaching certifications, and all sorts of things that have yet to settle in. I've yet to settle in, and still have a lot of data to process from the last few weeks in japan, which were just as experientially intensive... that's my way of telling you I'm falling asleep typing this; time for bed. it may be the nicest I'm in for a month or so--