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My wife and I talk over our plans for the day while breaking our fast. I had bought some plants for the village house a couple of days before, and wanted a few more I had seen, for the front of the house. Hence the reason for Sis coming along today. She knows how to get to the place. I'd never be able to find it again, and neither can my wife. After breakfast we pay up and head for the truck. Before getting in I discretely cut a few well needed pressure releasing farts, so as not to gag my lady once in the cab and send her on another expedition to a hong nam, or have her splatter some poor slob standing on the sidewalk near the truck when I have to pull over quickly. See, I am a nice and thoughtful 90's type of guy. I'm always thinking of my darling, and her needs and wants. What lass wouldn't want me?
We dodge the potholes along another street and wind our way through the traffic, pedestrians, and tricycle taxis and other such detriments to driving in Thailand. I'm an expert now, and don't even swear, that much, at these maniacs and suicidal idiots along the sois. I'm very Thai now in my demeanor and attitude. I've even eaten so much rice and noodles that my eyes have begun taking on a suspicious oriental cast. With my village water buffalo driver looking haircut, my mutating eyes, the right shade of a good tan, a pair of rubber flip flops, and one of those little checkered skirts the village guys wear I can at least pass for being Lao.
Finally we get to the place we wanted and I purchase my potted foliage for the house.
After getting the plants all secured in the back of the pick-up we all hopped in the cab and headed back through Surin and caught the so-called 'highway' to the village. An hour back, at least, and a few hours rest before heading once again to Surin for the after school pick up of look sow. Sheesh! I must be nuts doing this.
Going toward our village you must pass through three other villages along the way. These villages are more like small towns. They have the many old weather-battered wooden houses lining the roads, and a fuel station and shops here and there, with the portable 'stalls' set up everywhere for prepared food, and all sorts of veggies, meats, eggs, and other stuff. You can buy darned near anything along these village sois. There seems to be a shop for whatever a Thai could possibly want or need, or not. Getting my wife by these places without stopping can be tricky sometimes. I try the trick of engaging my lady's attention in conversation, a distracting gambit. I figure if she's busy talking to me she won't notice some damned thing or another that she has to stop and order to eat. I call it the 'hungry shopper's gauntlet'. There's always something tasty to catch a Thai lady's eye along these places, and it has been at least an hour or so since she/they ate last.
We made it through the area without stopping once. Even I ignored the Beer Chang/Beer Sing stalls with the beers sitting in big blue plastic barrels of ice, beckoning lovingly with their droplets of water trickling down the sides of the tub and the big Singha or Beer Chang plastic sun umbrellas advertising their tasty wares. Indeed, a harrowing trip this can be. Another minute and I would have had to pull over to grab a cold one for the remainder of the ride.
Heading out of that village we ran the isolated soi (road/street) heading for the next village down the way. This village is rather sparse and poorly looking. Good. No temptation for any of us. I ended up behind one of those light blue lorry type trucks that seem to be everywhere in the damned country. If you've been there before you'll know the ones I mean. They are ubiquitous.
All of a sudden this jerk came to a dead stop right in front of me, in the middle of the street, which isn't really meant for two way traffic, unless moto-cykes count. Shit. I hit the brakes wondering why the hell he stopped. The lorry driver had his window down and started honking his horn. An old Thai lady came to the front porch area of a small house by the side of the road where the truck had stopped, calling it a porch is being generous really, but I have no other way to describe it. She and the driver started chatting back and forth.
"What the hell?" I grumbled and looked down at the stick shift to put the thing in reverse and go around this boob.
(to be continued)
Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)
© Written in the year 2000. All rights reserved by the author.
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