Here is the story thus far, abbreviated though perhaps not a supreme example of the laconic style.
Day 1: Risto & I step off the plane, having been seated next to each other on the flight in from Hong Kong. He is ditched by the sex-touring Finns he was meant to go to Pattaya with, so I invite him into Bangkok. Outside the terminal he is shoe-horned into an unmarked, unmetered cab and I don't speak up fast enough about not taking it. An agreed-upon 500 baht suddenly turns into 1500 as soon as we are on the freeway out of the airport. As the cab, with two Thai men long used to milking baht from tourists, turns into a dimly-lit car lot I get the evil feeling that my stay in Thailand has come to an abrupt halt. However, we simply change cars and are on our way again into Bangkok, this time with one driver who seems harmless in a developmentally challenged way. I wonder if he will be able to find our hostel. He does and I check in. There are no beds left available and so Risto finds digs down the road. Back at the hostel I begin talking with two beautiful, blond Danish girls -- how I love a coffee and Danish in the morning -- who've been, on this trip, to Africa, Indonesia, Malaysia and of course Thailand. They advise me that the surfable waves are all in Indonesia & particularly Bali. They leave in the morning back to Copenhagen and I miss them already. I talk also with a Swede who is here, I gather from a somewhat one-sided conversation on sex, to join the Lonely Hearts Club, by which title I will henceforth refer to those who come to Thailand to get their kicks below the belt, so to speak.
Day 2: Up with the sun. Excellent coffee (some of the only of that quality I'll see in a long while) from a street vendor, shower, and then Risto and I grab breakfast from an alleyway-turned-lunch-counter with several vendors and a lot of locals eating there -- always a good sign. We take a tuk-tuk to the Grand Palace where a friendly guy with excellent English explains that at that particular moment there is a Buddhist prayer session going and, anyways, Risto is wearing shorts which is considered disrespectful to the Buddha -- the former is a lie, the latter, true -- and thus we will not be allowed entry. Instead he shepherds us into another tuk-tuk which he says for the low-low price of 30 b will take us to see the lucky Buddha -- which was pretty cool though unphotographable -- and a silk manufacturer where we can price some uncut silk and also perhaps clothe Risto's shameful legs. I agree as I want to price some silk anyways. Two hours later we have seen three silk suit hawkers, each pushier than the last, one gold & precious stone merchant and, above all, the fabled Thai runaround. Fuck, we've been duped. But in the end it was only 30 baht and we got to see a bit more of the city than we might've just bumbling about on our own. As the tuk-tuk driver drops us back at the Grand Palace all I can think about is buying my bus ticket and getting far and fast away from the noisy hustle of Bangkok. When I go back, however, I'm going to see the inside of the Grand Palace if I have to storm it medieval-style. So, the first cab driver -- a convenient friend of the tuk-tuk driver who's just carted us around to be baht-baited -- offers to take us to the bus station for 500 baht. I say no thanks, smile, curse his mother under my breath and begin to walk away. Risto keeps talking to him. I won't be had again and I intend to walk until I find a metered taxi with a mute driver. Risto gets the picture and catches up with me after about a block. We hop into a cab and get to the bus station for a metered 110 baht. Tickets to Phuket are 628 b for 1st class, including meal service, water, snacks and a coffee in the morning. For 928 b we could've traveled VIP class, which means a wider, fully-reclineable seat without a neighbor. I find out later that both 1st class and VIP ride the same bus, the former on the top level and the latter on the lower of a double-decker bus and, further, that while on the bus you can upgrade to VIP status if you slip the cute stewardess 50 baht. The buses are faster & cheaper than the trains here in Thailand, but the trains offer all passengers sleeping berths & are almost assured not to crash. So, we're ticketed and have one more night in Bangkok. Risto wants to see the spectacle of Khao San Road and I'd rather sleep, but he drags me out anyways. We meet two Estonian girls and an Englishman at a backpacker's bar and go Chang for Chang -- the budget Thai beer -- with them while listening to a spot-on cover band and doing intermittent push-ups (long story). Thence to a dance club where we see some guy getting a blow-job just off the stage. We dance until four in the morning and then it's back to the New Road Guesthouse to grab 40 winks.
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