Those squiggles, this Cuneo-form, with no seemingly no form at all, no structure, this alphabet written by an ancient Thai scribe during an epileptic fit--I can read some of it!
Now, granted, it takes me about thirty seconds to read a really short word; and right now, I'm basically reading Hebrew out of the Torah, which is to say that I haven't learned any of the 21 vowels, so I'm really just guessing what comes in between the consonants--but spit on that sidewalk, I read some letters tonight! Those eels squirming next to Macaroni on the menu--they actually spell 'macaroni'! Who knew! This isn't some Thai Ed-Harris-in-The-Truman-Show conspiracy to feed foreigners retarded pig brains and fish egg chum--they're actually giving me macaroni! If the menu is to be trusted!
I know it's probably not Kosher to consider what should be a personal accomplishment as a victory against something--but hell, pour out the gin and ice cubes because we're celebrating a tick in the win column!
Okay, maybe that's premature--maybe this is more like a run in the first inning, a field goal lead ending the first quarter--but people have gotten drunk for less, haven't they? We have the momentum now! The good guys! Sure, we're on the road--Thailand has home-field advantage, sure, but we have the momentum--we bunched together a couple of singles there, a sacrifice fly, and boom--I was eating pork stir fry.
Yeah, Squiggle Land, yeah Water Slide Language, I'm coming for you, down you, and then I'm going to wait at the bottom of your slides and punch the child coming down after me, right in the face, and the lifeguard with the farmer's tan can blow his shrieking whistle all he wants, but I will keep on punching each of the 44 consonants and 21 vowels that slip down that slide until the sun is low and the Coal Miner's Hamburger Stand closes and police escort me from the waterpark, shoulders peeling, back sore, but having drowned the entire Thai alphabet in my aqueous brain fluids forever.
Also today I hitchhiked for the first time.