It's Wednesday, August 7, 1991 and I'm just outside of Tokyo, Japan at my new friend Rory's apartment.
I'm up at 5:45 in the morning. Who knew there was also a 5:45 in the morning?
I'm out of Rory's place at 6:25AM, and with Rory lending me a hand on a train towards Ueno-eki (Ueno (station) by 7AM. Thanks Rory! And sayonara (good bye)!
Arriving at Ueno by 8AM, I hope a shuttle train towards Tokyo's Narita airport that is actually located in Chiba-ken, arriving at 9:10AM.
I go through the ticket registration and customs by 10AM and board my plane to Thailand at 10:30AM. It's insane.
The plane is delayed by 30 minutes thanks to traffic, so we don't actually leave until 11:30AM. Traffic? Don't they know when planes are coming and going? I've never really understood delays of 30 minutes or longer. Five minutes sure... but planes—especially in Japan—should run with clockwork efficiency like their train system!
The stewardesses on the Thai airline are all freaking gorgeous. They are all Thia, wearing purple, look young, and smell great. They also speak excellent English and treat me like we've just spent a couple of hot sweaty hours together... which I dream of with each and every one of them. Come one! Doesn't anyone want to initiate me into the Mile High Club?
Of course, I'm lucky... but just not that lucky.
There's a book on my seat that describes how to count to 100 in Thia and how to say hello (Sawetai) and how to say thank you as a male (Kop koon krap) and as a female (Kop koon kah). I master it all before we actually lift off from Narita airport.
The plane food is just that—plain and blah. I've been on the go for nearly seven hours, and it's not even noon. I am exhausted... probably too tired to join the Mile High Club is asked, but I'm not, so the point is moot.
There's some Steve Martin movie on that lampoons the Los Angeles attitude, but since I miss the title, I have no idea why I even mention it. Tired.
I need to go to the washroom, but I don't have time... and quite frankly, I'm afraid I'm going to do something awful that will hamper any opportunity for a Mile High Club invitation from a stewardess. I didn't see any women passengers on the plane.
I guess Thailand's reputation as a sex industry is well founded, as most of the people on the plane look pretty shady. The rest look quite respectable and after their sex tour—which Thailand does offer—ˆ'm sure the suits will be playing golf.
In fact, as we are landing, I notice a golf course right beside the damn airport runway. It must have some tricky holes, what with the out of control air currents caused by passing jet plane.
Arriving within the Bangkok airport, I look around for my mom, who has flown out from Toronto to meet me here for a few days before we travel back to Ohatawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.
I must be the only normal man to have actually traveled to Thailand to hang out with his mother.
I get there.... there's no mom... no promised tour guide... and I don't know which hotel she has booked for us... I'm lost. As I am physically attempting to call my father back in Canada to ask about Mom and the hotel, I happen to glance around and see my mom, Lynda Joseph, standing a mere five feet away.
One year later she still looks the same, and that's cool by me. Hug, hug, kiss, kiss.
Toki, our guide is really cute and very short. She scoots us away in a van, but since it's now rush hour in Bangkok, we sit in traffic for a while. I really should have gone to the washroom on the plane.
It begins to rain, and hard, and floods a few low-lying roads, and it doesn't let up. Apparently, this is the beginning of the rainy season here... or it's because I'm traveling that it has chosen to rain.
We arrive at out awesome looking hotel in one hour and 15 minutes.
After a quick shower et al, we go to dinner. Our waitresses is freaking hot. She is also smiling at me constantly, even more when I explain that the older pretty woman I am with is merely my mother. After that this woman is constantly hovering around me, filling up my beer, touching my shoulders, and rubbing herself up against my back as she leans over to pour food. Her name is Tookta, which means, and I kid you not, 'Baby Doll".
I've never played with dolls before, but it looks like there will be a first time before this trip is over.
I order a chili fish... two things I would normally never eat back in Toronto. I may be of Indian descent, but aside from the colour of my skin, I'm not very Indian. The fish is even hotter than Tookta, as I have beads of sweat popping up on my brow as I eat all of it. In fact... sweat forms on my sweat. It amuses both my mom and Tookta who gently wipes away my sweat with her hand.
If my mother wasn't sure before, she realized then that our waitress really liked me. For reference... I looked like a Thai man... only about four inches taller, much wider... and I'm only talking about what I keep in my underwear. We're both dark in complexion, have dark brown eyes and black hair. But being bigger, it's obvious that I am in high demand here, as I glance around and see a number of waitresses smiling at me. I guess the stewardesses may not have been really Thai.
Besides... all of these Thai waitresses are all maybe 21-23, and seem eager to try out the Canadian cuisine. In my head, Tookta has first dibs.
I did mention that she kept filling me up with beer. It was something called Singha, which essentially is Thai for 'lion dog'.
After dinner (we were only charged for a single beer), we tip Tookta very well, she comes up from behind me puts her right arm around my shoulder, her left hand down on my left hand, grabs the money while kissing me on the left cheek, quietly whispering that she hopes she will see me again.
My mother had already left to go the the ladies room... and she was the one who had paid for our meal (and pretty damn near everything else on this trip!), so Tookta was brave, but brave with some decorum.
After my mom and I head back to the single hotel room with two Queen-sized beds, we chat for awhile about life, the universe and everything, with me kidding her about never sending me anything I needed, to which she replies she won't bother sending me anymore boxes of condoms. Owtch. Asia is going have alot of kids looking like me!
Hey Matthew! You think I snore like a jet plane with asthma? You never heard my mom! Her snoring kept me awake for so long that I got up and went for a walk. How the heck does my dad stand it?
On the plus side... it's about 1AM as I walk near the hotel restaurant and see Tookta walking out. She runs over, smiles and walks with me for a few minutes until we find some privacy.
What's nice, is that I've seen more of Tookta than I have of Thailand.
God I love internationalization. Oh Canada!
Somewhere I love Thailand and Thailand loves...
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Murray Head: HARDMANHUMBLE
I'm up at 5:45 in the morning. Who knew there was also a 5:45 in the morning?
I'm out of Rory's place at 6:25AM, and with Rory lending me a hand on a train towards Ueno-eki (Ueno (station) by 7AM. Thanks Rory! And sayonara (good bye)!
Arriving at Ueno by 8AM, I hope a shuttle train towards Tokyo's Narita airport that is actually located in Chiba-ken, arriving at 9:10AM.
I go through the ticket registration and customs by 10AM and board my plane to Thailand at 10:30AM. It's insane.
The plane is delayed by 30 minutes thanks to traffic, so we don't actually leave until 11:30AM. Traffic? Don't they know when planes are coming and going? I've never really understood delays of 30 minutes or longer. Five minutes sure... but planes—especially in Japan—should run with clockwork efficiency like their train system!
The stewardesses on the Thai airline are all freaking gorgeous. They are all Thia, wearing purple, look young, and smell great. They also speak excellent English and treat me like we've just spent a couple of hot sweaty hours together... which I dream of with each and every one of them. Come one! Doesn't anyone want to initiate me into the Mile High Club?
Of course, I'm lucky... but just not that lucky.
There's a book on my seat that describes how to count to 100 in Thia and how to say hello (Sawetai) and how to say thank you as a male (Kop koon krap) and as a female (Kop koon kah). I master it all before we actually lift off from Narita airport.
The plane food is just that—plain and blah. I've been on the go for nearly seven hours, and it's not even noon. I am exhausted... probably too tired to join the Mile High Club is asked, but I'm not, so the point is moot.
There's some Steve Martin movie on that lampoons the Los Angeles attitude, but since I miss the title, I have no idea why I even mention it. Tired.
I need to go to the washroom, but I don't have time... and quite frankly, I'm afraid I'm going to do something awful that will hamper any opportunity for a Mile High Club invitation from a stewardess. I didn't see any women passengers on the plane.
I guess Thailand's reputation as a sex industry is well founded, as most of the people on the plane look pretty shady. The rest look quite respectable and after their sex tour—which Thailand does offer—ˆ'm sure the suits will be playing golf.
In fact, as we are landing, I notice a golf course right beside the damn airport runway. It must have some tricky holes, what with the out of control air currents caused by passing jet plane.
Arriving within the Bangkok airport, I look around for my mom, who has flown out from Toronto to meet me here for a few days before we travel back to Ohatawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.
I must be the only normal man to have actually traveled to Thailand to hang out with his mother.
I get there.... there's no mom... no promised tour guide... and I don't know which hotel she has booked for us... I'm lost. As I am physically attempting to call my father back in Canada to ask about Mom and the hotel, I happen to glance around and see my mom, Lynda Joseph, standing a mere five feet away.
One year later she still looks the same, and that's cool by me. Hug, hug, kiss, kiss.
Toki, our guide is really cute and very short. She scoots us away in a van, but since it's now rush hour in Bangkok, we sit in traffic for a while. I really should have gone to the washroom on the plane.
It begins to rain, and hard, and floods a few low-lying roads, and it doesn't let up. Apparently, this is the beginning of the rainy season here... or it's because I'm traveling that it has chosen to rain.
We arrive at out awesome looking hotel in one hour and 15 minutes.
After a quick shower et al, we go to dinner. Our waitresses is freaking hot. She is also smiling at me constantly, even more when I explain that the older pretty woman I am with is merely my mother. After that this woman is constantly hovering around me, filling up my beer, touching my shoulders, and rubbing herself up against my back as she leans over to pour food. Her name is Tookta, which means, and I kid you not, 'Baby Doll".
I've never played with dolls before, but it looks like there will be a first time before this trip is over.
I order a chili fish... two things I would normally never eat back in Toronto. I may be of Indian descent, but aside from the colour of my skin, I'm not very Indian. The fish is even hotter than Tookta, as I have beads of sweat popping up on my brow as I eat all of it. In fact... sweat forms on my sweat. It amuses both my mom and Tookta who gently wipes away my sweat with her hand.
If my mother wasn't sure before, she realized then that our waitress really liked me. For reference... I looked like a Thai man... only about four inches taller, much wider... and I'm only talking about what I keep in my underwear. We're both dark in complexion, have dark brown eyes and black hair. But being bigger, it's obvious that I am in high demand here, as I glance around and see a number of waitresses smiling at me. I guess the stewardesses may not have been really Thai.
Besides... all of these Thai waitresses are all maybe 21-23, and seem eager to try out the Canadian cuisine. In my head, Tookta has first dibs.
I did mention that she kept filling me up with beer. It was something called Singha, which essentially is Thai for 'lion dog'.
After dinner (we were only charged for a single beer), we tip Tookta very well, she comes up from behind me puts her right arm around my shoulder, her left hand down on my left hand, grabs the money while kissing me on the left cheek, quietly whispering that she hopes she will see me again.
My mother had already left to go the the ladies room... and she was the one who had paid for our meal (and pretty damn near everything else on this trip!), so Tookta was brave, but brave with some decorum.
After my mom and I head back to the single hotel room with two Queen-sized beds, we chat for awhile about life, the universe and everything, with me kidding her about never sending me anything I needed, to which she replies she won't bother sending me anymore boxes of condoms. Owtch. Asia is going have alot of kids looking like me!
Hey Matthew! You think I snore like a jet plane with asthma? You never heard my mom! Her snoring kept me awake for so long that I got up and went for a walk. How the heck does my dad stand it?
On the plus side... it's about 1AM as I walk near the hotel restaurant and see Tookta walking out. She runs over, smiles and walks with me for a few minutes until we find some privacy.
What's nice, is that I've seen more of Tookta than I have of Thailand.
God I love internationalization. Oh Canada!
Somewhere I love Thailand and Thailand loves...
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Murray Head: HARDMANHUMBLE
