Flying back to Bangkok in the middle of the floods was probably not the best of ideas – from the sky, the airport looked like its own tiny island. I arrived at 10pm, conveniently 10 minutes after the last bus to Chiang Mai. Instead of risking ruining my 80p shoes by heading out to hunt for a guesthouse, I decided to join the other 50million people who were stranded in the airport and take advantage of a free night’s accommodation.
After searching for a space for an hour, I finally set up camp on a metal chair which rivalled a crocodile’s face when it comes to suitable places to sleep. Despite constantly throwing dramatic sighs and emphasised tuts his way, the man next to me was speaking so loud on his phone that he could only have feasibly been talking to someone that either had no ears or was dead. I managed to endure these intermittent phone calls until 4am when that last shred of sanity evaporated alongside the pool of dribble that had accumulated next to my face. I was simply incredulous that this man could have the audacity to be making these phone calls. I mean REALLY mister, yes your house may be flooded and you’ve probably been separated from your wife and children and your mother was last seen floating through the centre of Bangkok clinging onto a piece of bamboo, but can’t you see I’m SLEEPY??
I headed out of the airport and hailed a taxi to the bus station. This is where karma reared its nearly-as-weary-as-my-own head. The driver decided that 140kph was a suitable speed for the highway which was twice as difficult to drive as usual because of all the abandoned cars that he constantly had to swerve to avoid. Add this to the fact that he kept falling asleep at the wheel, only waking when I screamed in fear from the seatbeltless backseat and it made for one truly terrifying journey. Now you can rest assured that if you ever decide to speak unnecessarily loud on your phone whilst sitting next to me in a public place, not only will I refrain from pulling faces at you, but I will bring you coffee and wash your feet with the tears of my own remorse.