In a tropical climate, you are constantly transitioning between humidity and air conditioning. I think that's what saddled me with a head cold the day I was supposed to travel from Thailand to Australia. I woke up congested, but had to shower and pack to be ready for my 9 am taxi to the Phuket airport. I had already checked in for both flights online and my Airbnb hosts in Australia were expecting me. I had to pull it together. I thought, "I've gotten ready for work and taught all day in worse condition than this!"
I powered through, got all packed and ready, and went downstairs to bid my hostesses at the hotel farewell. I had become acquainted with them over the past three weeks, and wanted to give them a nice tip. I slipped a bill that was larger than all the others into the clear plastic tip box, and they were abundantly appreciative. They presented me with a brown gift bag. Inside was a frangipani soap and a photo they had taken of me for their guest wall. They have a huge transparent glass map on their wall and said they would post the photo there, affixed to my hometown in California. I looked at the map, and there had been no other guests from the US, or even from the Western Hemisphere. It looked like Australia, Asia, and Russia were the most populated. We said our goodbyes and I was off to the airport.
Online, I had secured the window seat in the last row of the plane, hoping I would have the row to myself, as I did on the flight down to Phuket. No such luck this time. Next to me was a woman who thought she was the one in the window seat, leaning over me, and gesturing across my face as she described the scenery to her husband. I gave her a dirty look, she apologized, but continued the behavior. I just thought to myself, "If I am contagious, there's her retribution."
After the short flight to Bangkok came the next hurdle of the day. I had to navigate my way to the main airport in Bangkok, Suvarnabhumi International. I flew an economy airline, Nok Air, to Phuket, but that meant utilizing Don Mueang Airport. In my online research of Phuket activities, I noticed a mention of a free shuttle between the two airports. I had booked an early flight out of Phuket so I would have plenty of time to investigate and then find a taxi if the shuttle myth was untrue.
I disembarked the plane, retrieved my checked bag, and followed the public transport signs downstairs. I didn't see any signs about a free shuttle, so I asked at the information desk. Sure enough, just outside was a desk and a completely empty, full size bus waiting. I asked if the bus really was free. The guys at the desk, who were all wearing the same type of sunglasses for some reason, replied yes. All they needed to see was my boarding pass. Good thing I hadn't trashed it in the restroom. I boarded the bus, along with a young couple, but that was it. We took off with three passengers on the entire bus.
I arrived at Suvarnabhumi with two hours to spare before check in for my flight even opened. I wanted to get past security to eat and rest, as I was still feeling under the weather. I found a spot near some monks, careful not to accidentally touch them as I walked to a seat in their row. Vit, my Thai tour guide, is a former monk, so we were schooled about proper, respectful behavior. I worked on my journal and people watched until it was time to check in.
I approached the counter once I saw on the screen that check in had begun. I really just needed my boarding pass and to check my bag. I had booked the flight through Qantas and flew Qantas on the way up to Bangkok, but for some reason Emirates was operating this flight. The agent ran my passport and asked, "Do you have a ticket back to the US?" I'm sure Australia asks them to confirm that information before issuing boarding passes. I didn't have a printer to print a boarding pass anyway, but at the end of online check in, a message popped up that told me to see a ticket agent for my boarding pass. That message gave me an uncomfortable feeling. "Yes. It's on January 8th." "May I see it?" asked the agent. "I don't have a paper copy, but I have the email on my phone. Would you like to see that?" I asked, nervously. I can usually pull up emails without wifi, but of course it wasn't working at that moment. I couldn't get on the airport wifi until I was past security. I said, "I'm sorry, but it's not working. If I can use a computer, I'll find it for you. Or, you could possibly look up my flight with my frequent flyer number. Or, maybe you could run my passport. I have an electronic Australian multiple entry tourist visa that will pop up for you." She stared at me for several seconds. I don't know if she didn't understand what I said, took my word for it, or felt sorry for me, but she said, "It's okay" and printed the boarding pass. What relief I felt! I had read an article about a man who had been detained at the Bangkok airport and just imagined myself stuck there. I thanked her profusely and proceeded to security.
I'd anticipated this Emirates flight ever since I booked it back in August. I'd heard nothing but praise for the airline, and it's all valid. I'm referring to the amenities rather than the service, which was rather bland. I was dazzled by the large personal TV screen, the plethora of film choices, the personal electrical outlet and USB port, and the complimentary travel kit. When it was time to sleep, the ceiling transformed into an astronomical wonder of twinkle lights. I had chosen the last row of the plane, with the hope of having extra room. My hopes were met, with practically a foot of space between my seat and the window, plus ample room to recline my seat. I felt like the personal guest of the Emir. Highly recommended!
After a stunning sunrise over the Australian Outback, we landed in Sydney. I disembarked, retrieved my checked bag, and queued for passport control. As I stood in line, an immigration officer approached me from the side. "Where are you coming from today?" he asked sternly. "Bangkok," I replied. He looked at me for a moment, then asked, "Were you in any rural areas? Any farms?" I thought for a moment, breaking eye contact with him. I tried to recall all of my destinations over the past six weeks. Was the elephant camp considered a farm? What about the rice field we briefly walked through? I wasn't sure, and I was taking a long time to answer his question. Hadn't I just answered this question on the customs form? I know he was concerned about soil, and my shoes had been thoroughly washed. "Um...no," I said. "Any wooden souvenirs? Food?" I looked away again to think, shifting my eyes. Did I buy that wooden Buddha I was contemplating? Did he say any souvenir or just wooden souvenirs? I'm standing here wearing a Singha beer T-shirt. Is that what he means? My head was still congested and my processing was faulty due to lack of sleep. "Um...no." He stamped my customs form and wrote a secret code near the stamp. That hadn't ever happened before.
I proceeded through passport control, and was nearing the final exit. The officer there looked at my form, looked at me, and said, "Row 5." I figured I would exit with everyone else, but I followed the barricades to another station. There was a large carpet area in front of me. A female officer appeared...with the DRUG DOG in tow! Oh come on, I thought. I knew I didn't have anything contraband, but was nervous nonetheless. I guess I did take too long to answer the customs officer's questions. I was ordered to spread my two pieces of luggage out on the carpet and step back. The cute beagle sniffed my suitcase quickly, but then lingered on my shoulder bag that had accompanied me wherever I went in Thailand. What is he doing? Why is he taking so long? Do I still have a cookie in there from the first flight? I recalled my arrival to LAX from China several years ago. The drug dog went crazy over some beef jerky a man had in his bag.
"Okay, thank you," the officer said. I was clear! I grabbed my bags and hightailed it out of the airport. I understand that it's their job to exercise caution and be thorough. I guess that's the chance you take when travelling to a country known for its contraband. I finally arrived at my Airbnb location in Newtown, took a rest, and felt an immense sense of relief.
