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A Farang’s Trip to Thailand
After separating with my ex-wife of twenty miserable years, I decided to take a vacation, a break from the incessant complaining and lack of appreciation that had defined my married life. Given the choice of between stewing in the wreckage of divorce, dating my best friend’s ex-wife, or the reverse evolution of online personals, running away seemed a better choice. So, as I sat on the Bangkok bound United Airways 747, I felt as if despite only flying away from my own reflection I was freeing myself from my own identity. There’s no reflection on the Pacific when the pilot announced the International Date Line. The ocean was a blank slate as today became yesterday and we crossed into tomorrow. It was the closest I will ever get to time travel. I loved the idea of going into the future and was already lamenting my imminent return to the past. But when today’s gone, where did it go? And where did the big dufus in the red sports jersey think he’s going?
He sauntered into first class and slid into a leather recliner. He didn’t look the part: shaved head, sailor’s ear ring, neck tattoo, baggy satin shorts and all. A fashion statement so awful repulsive was an understatement. What kind of jersey was that anyway? It sported a big white seven above which said Rooney. The chair groaned under his considerable weight as he leaned back and pretended to sleep. Damn, it looked good. Maybe I should try it.
A passing flight attendant stopped next to him, looked down and waved to someone in the cockpit. She tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.” He kept the charade up, but she didn’t buy it. “Excuse me, sir, I need to ask you to please return to your seat.”
He opened his eyes and cooed, “C’mon love, I am just getting comfortable.”
He’s English. Must be a soccer jersey.
“These seats are for paying first-class customers only, sir.”
His attitude changed in a flash. “So the lot of me aren’t good enough?”
“That’s not what I am saying, sir. It is airline……
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