Udom Suk Commute

By : Paul Salvette
Views : 741

The Toyota Vios overcorrected and slid uncontrollably into a group of men and women that were performing work on the support beams for an overpass on Udom Suk road.  As the car slid into the construction area and the series of orange cones closing off the lane, a woman frantically waving an orange flag dove onto the sidewalk.  The man behind her, who had been intently examining the rebar at the base of the concrete beam, was not so fortunate.

The left side of the Toyota’s hood smacked into the man’s backside, popping him out of his rubber work boots and sending him approximately 30 meters into oncoming traffic.  The Pepsi truck making its early morning deliveries had no time to stop, and the man’s body bounced off of the windshield before being crushed under the wheels.  The truck driver noted with horror that the truck jumped twice as the body passed under his front and rear axle.

Chertchai stopped the car 20 meters before the scene of the accident and ran out of his car immediately.  After four strides, he realized that, in a frenzy, he had forgotten his blackberry in the center console.  He retrieved the device and urgently scrolled through his contacts for his cousin at the local police district while walking quickly towards the accident scene.

About ten of the construction workers were gathered around the Pepsi truck screaming at each other in a dialect that Chertchai could not fully understand, but he assumed was from Isan.  Other people had also gotten out of their cars to see how they could be of assistance.  A few congregated around the smashed Toyota that had been stopped by a large generator at the construction site after hitting the man.  The driver was slumped over the airbag unconscious. The truck driver, about 20 years old, stood on the side of the road in his oil-stained uniform, dazed and in shock at the sight of the dead man.

From a distance, Chertchai could see that, strangely, the shirt wrapped around the man’s head to protect from the mid-May sun was still in place.  However, his pants were almost completely down to his ankles with his genitals exposed.  The man’s chest had been completely crushed by the truck, and a streak of blood lined the road.  Besides the occasional funeral, Chertchai had never seen a dead body before, and he stared intently at this gruesome display of mortality.  Before he could get a hold of his cousin, the police arrived with sirens blaring.

One of the police officers examined the corpse and began questioning the construction workers.  Another police officer spoke to Chertchai, “Sir, I think we have all the witnesses we need.  You can return to your vehicle.  We are sorry that you had to see this.”

“Thank you, and it is no problem."

Chertchai felt relieved that he had done what he could.  Boss Suanchai did not appreciate it when Chertchai was late for work.  Luckily, Chertchai grew up in this neighborhood of Bangkok, and he knew a shortcut off Udom Suk.

 

 

 

paulsalvette.com

 

© Paul Salvette. All rights reserved by the author.


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Rating

PG



Comments / Feedback

steve rosse
May 11, 2011, 21:17

I tried to leave this comment on Paul's blog but for some reason the machine would not let me, perhaps because I'm at work and they want me to actually do something I'm paid to do instead of read expat blogs. But anywaaaay... It's very refreshing and encouraging to hear a new voice on Thailandstories.com, especially a voice that seems to want to write about something other than the usual monger crap. Paul's blog is focused on the business of writing as well as the craft, and that's refreshing too. I wish him lots of luck, and thank him for introducing me to Not the Nation.
sisterray
May 13, 2011, 10:15

Blogs on read only mode last couple of days.

This one caught my attention as I live opposite Udom Suk Road. Well written little piece which I assume is an excerpt from a larger piece rather than a stand alone story.

One thing niggled me a bit:

"a dialect that Chertchai could not fully understand, but he assumed was from Isan." - I think if the character is Thai and lives in Bangkok he would recogonize an Isaan dialect.

Good stuff.

Paul Salvette
May 14, 2011, 18:42

Thank you very much for the comments and encouragement. There was a blogger-wide issue for the last 4 days, but everything should be fixed now according to the official blogger site. In regards to the dialect, I was trying to say that he could understand it was from Isan, but not which province. I'll have to make myself clearer in the future, as re-reading the passage confirms that I wrote it without much thought. Will try to have some more short pieces of fiction up in the near future, as having someone critique it is very helpful to me, since I am just starting out. Thanks again!
sisterray
May 17, 2011, 09:28


Hi Paul,

Might work better like this..

...screaming at each other in a dialect that Chertchai could not fully understand, but he assumed was from either Surin or Buriram.

Look forward to reading more.
Purit
June 1, 2011, 20:55

Begging your pardons for splitting hairs, but an Issan accent is 'the Issan accent' to most Bangkok-born.

Still, sometimes when the accent is flowing fast and thick with some local sub-dialect words and syntax thrown in it can fox even the Northerners, whose dialect is audibly related to Issan/Lao.

I would suggest "screaming at each other in a dialect that Chertchai could barely understand, but could still identify as Issan with its slingshot twang". . . or "barking twang" . . . depending one which sub-dialect it is ;-)

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