People You Don't want to Meet at the Airport/Plane

For the past two weeks, I have developed a very intimate relationship with airports and planes.  I love the experience of going through the motions: checking in, clearing immigration, getting frisked? oopps!

All is fun and well, but not so when you travel with certain groups of people. 

This first group of people are from the south of Asia.  I came into contact with them on my flight back to Bangkok from Phuket.  They were all queued up nicely, albeit speaking to each other in a loud voice.  That was what I thought-that they were speaking loudly to each other, but apparently they were talking back to the lady at the counter.  They were causing such a ruckus that the personnel had to move them aside.

This group of people were tolerable (since they were not in my way), but the next group I bumped into the next day was just crazy with a capital C.  snap snap snap*

It was Friday at Suvarnabhumi Airport and I was checking in for my flight to Singapore.  Upon reaching the check-in counter, there was a crowd, not a queue, but a CROWD of "people."  These "people" just crowded around the counter and all were yapping away happily.  We circled the crowd and found an empty counter.  Somehow the people were just attracted to one counter, but this did not last long.  They saw me and my friend lining up at the empty counter and soon enough a bunch of them followed suite. 

We clear immigration and was soon shopping away at the departure terminal.  We got to our gate and lo and behold the "people" were there.  I joined in the line and they made you feel like you were invisible.  Physically pushing against you.  I could feel their stomachs against my back.  Hmmm, not much of a personal space with them "people."  When we got to the aerobridge a member of the "people" thought it would be okay for them to cut the line.  I immediately raised my hand and gave them the "HAND" and said "No!"

Well, if it weren't for them my travels won't be as exciting.  :P

Hairy Experience

Since living in Thailand, I haven't had the most pleasant experiences with hair dressers, barbers, stylists--whatever you want to call them.  Initially, I had friends here who had hair-trimming skills--better than Edward Scissorhands.  But all of these friends have left (I know what am I doing here?!)

There are times when I trim my own mane when my hair ain't too long, but there are times when I NEED a 'professional' to keep it under control.  Here are two of the experiences. 

1.  At "Together" Salon.  This hairdresser (guy) boasts a lot because a lot of us foreigners come to his shop for a hair cut.  I stopped going to this establishment because I didn't feel quite "together" with the owner.  One day, I came in wearing a Fedora.  It was summer, I was protecting my precious face from being exposed to the heat.  After finalizing a customer's hair, he welcomed me to the chair.  I took out my hat as I walked over and ruffled my sweaty hair/scalp.  He eye-balled my head of hair.  The looked into the mirror at me.  We both were looking at each other in the mirror.  Then he said, in his meager English, "Ten years, helicopter."  Then he did a landing motion of a helicopter with his hand on my head.  Now, why would he say that to a customer.   I never went back.

2.  "Sunflower"  This hairdresser (lady) has been cutting hair of many friends.  She spoke better English so I thought that I would be better off at this place.  I went there one afternoon after work.  I was the only customer.  She got me to sit and place my head over the sink while she rinsed off all the dirt and grime from my hair after working for 8 hours.  She washed my hair four times.  FOUR TIMES.  With what I am not sure of.  She massaged my head, which was great.  But then she made her way down to my face.  This was at a time when I was having a breakout and there were tiny pimples forming constellations across my face.  After drying my hair, she ushered me to the chair and there she chopped away, while I dozed.  When she was finally done.  She went to a shelf towards the back and took out several products.  She came back to me, fully intending to sell me at least one of this miracle cosmetic.  She said that I had too much pimples.  "Huh, really?" I said.  She also said that I am balding.  "Okay, I'm never coming back."

Maybe I'm too sensitive.  I don't know.  Maybe I have to accept nature's course and live with the fact that I do have a high forehead.  Hey, in China, those with high foreheads are considered smart!