Attention Thailandstoryites, Dana Fans, and used condom users:
I receive questioning email missives from Dana fans wanting to know when my next visit to the Kingdom will be. Example:
"Hello Dana--when are you next going to be in Thailand?
P.S. I'm not going to offer to buy you a beer because I know you get tired of hearing that.
P.S.S. I could shatter your forehead with my abdominals.
P.S.S.S. I love you man."
Well, I love you too Mr. Caveman and if you read this you will see how in the last couple of years those scheduling questions have become more difficult to answer.
Example: about four years ago I am on my way to Thailand in one of those big four engine planes (if a plane doesn't have four engines I'm not flying) and somewhere over the north Japanese sea a stewardess comes forward to First Class with a message for me to go to the information booth when we land in Narita where the German Embassy Ambassador would like to speak to me.
Well, not too much time later I am introduced to Heir Commandant Kleptfuton Karl-Jurg Wachter who informs me that the happy and grateful German nation has awarded me the Der Eichenhlaub zum Ritterkreuz des Eisernhen Kreuz (Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves) for my work involving mongering in Thailand that has benefited so many German men. The presentation will be in Berlin in two days.
Naturally, I change my routing and my tickets and instead of continuing on to Bangkok I end up in Berlin. And what of the men and the women in Thailand who had been expecting to see me at a certain time and at certain places? Well, they were disappointed. I had sent them my travel schedule but I then I had to change it.
Another Time: I was on my way to Bangkok (and then Pattaya) only this time I was flying east instead of flying west and halfway between flying over the dome of St. Peter's and landing at Cairo a message is delivered to me via a British Airways pilot that an Egyptian ambassador of some kind (no idea really) would like to speak to me before I continue on. Please meet him at the airport kiosk that sells Koran CD's.
Why the special attention directed towards me? Well the local Cheops-on-the-Nile chapter of the Egyptian-Thailand Mongering Club (ETMC) would like to meet me and present me with a title, a scarab, and a King Tut headdress. Unfortunately, numerous previous obligations make this impossible but I tell the ambassador that if the Cheops guys want to meet me in Israel in three days I am being feted, and respected, and gifted by the combined Jewish mongers of Tel Aviv, Haifa, and Jerusalem. We could combine presentation ceremonies and have a lot of international fun. The Egyptian official responded and I quote:
"You and your pervert baby eating Zionist monger scum can burn and twist in the fires of your Christian hell for eternity."
You know guys, normally I'm not one to pontificate or take a stand; but this kind of attitude is just not what international mongering is all about. We need to never forget that we are setting examples for millions of mongers worldwide. People look up to us. Anyway, in this particular case no one in Thailand waiting for me was inconvenienced or disappointed because I did not make the surprise detour to the western shore of the Nile for the sunrise ceremony. But what if I had made the detour? I think you can see my point. When supplicants like Mr. Caveman email me and want to know the exact dates I will be here and there in the Kingdom it is just not possible to know. For Mr. Caveman, travel is simple. He gets on a plane. He gets off a plane. Actually, he gets on a plane, he flexes his muscles, and then he gets off a plane. Anyway, I am not Mr. Caveman.
One Last Example: I am flying east again and as the 747 (love those planes) is coming into Heathrow airport I am advised that a Russian gentleman from Minsk would like to speak to me near the plush toys section of the airport gift shop. Well, who can say no to something like that? The following ensues:
It seems that a Mr. Boris Borisky has been dispatched by the Laplander's Monger's Club (LMC) to notify me that in six days time (close scheduling--it takes five days to get there) there will be a special Laplander ceremony to commemorate my monger work for Laplander men everywhere. Could I possibly alter my travel plans and attend the ceremony? Well, Mr. Caveman; I think you can see the issues. Number one, who can say no to an invitation like this? Number two, any schedules I might have sent regarding 'times I would be in Thailand' were now worthless. I'm simply not reliable and I can not make promises. I've now achieved the state of mythic cult status for my followers and my time is not always my own.
What was the Laplander ceremony like? Hard to judge. I was presented with a plaque with writing on it. Nobody could read so they just gave it to me. I also received a petrified reindeer penis. Either that or it was a special stick; again, hard to know. A little investigation revealed that there were only two members of the Laplander Mongers Club (LMC) and they had not actually been to Thailand. They were building their herds and hoped to go once the world demand for reindeer meat increased.
You know, you've got to do the miles and plant the seeds. Christianity started with a pushy father, an obedient son, and a dream. Look how that turned out. I smiled a lot and shook everyone's hand before starting the five day trip back to Heathrow airport. I think one of the hands I shook might have been a female hand. Hard to know. It was 60 degrees below zero and we were all dressed like we shopped at Musk Ox Fashions Ltd.
Anyway, Thailandstoryites and Dana fans and used condom users, there are some examples from my life of why I no longer send out my travel schedules to Thailand. Too risky. I'm just taffy now being pulled by the forces of Danaism. I'm just a monger leaf on the waters of . . . ok, I'm just completely fxxxing unreliable. Plus, and this is a great big whopping important plus; what if I commit to seeing you at 3:00 p.m. at the currency exchange window next to the A.A. Hotel on Beach Road in Pattaya, but at 2:55 p.m. I see Ting holding up a palm tree on the boardwalk? Well? Do you honestly expect me to walk by Ting because I have an appointment with you? Have you ever seen Ting? I mean let's get real here. Exactly.
P.S. No, Mr. Caveman; I do not have any photos of myself riding a horse wearing a speedo bathing suit (me, not the horse) that I can send you.
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