(Hipster points if you "get" the pun in the title)
Don't you love it when a blogger begins a post with "So I haven't written in a while" as though you are totally incapable of keeping track of time? Also, don't you love the phrase "don't you love"? Is that dead yet? Can we not use that forever?
I am sensitive to cliches right now because I am reading Bonfire of the Vanities...and for a guy who is supposed to be a "great American writer," Tom Wolfe sure does lean heavily on cliches and pre-constructed phrases. But I guess that if I was going to write an 900 page novel that would be laughably-irrelevant within fifteen years, I would use a lot of cliches to pad the pages, too.
Anyway, I haven't written in a while, and the reason is, I got my hands ripped off by my pet chimpanzee. No just kidding. Close though! He's looking at me right now...sucking in air like a dying fish...
The reason is my parents, my sister (25), my best friend (since the age of 5), and his parents (ages unknown, by anyone (including God)) were in Thailand and I was playing host/tour guide/dead person.
We are going to do this remembrance thing backwards, just like Memento, except funnier and with more 1920s minstrel show-style racism.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 30 - Part 1 : Should Have Taken LSATs with You
I woke for good this morning at 6:30 A.M., to take what would officially be my third diarrhea of Monday November 30 (1st: 12:15, 2nd: 2:30--and yes, both times I woke up from sleep to go liquid bum-spray). (Also like Memento, you have to wait to see why I had diarrhea--SPOILER ALERT: exhaustion/dehydration can come with diarrhea (side-note: so can butt pain)).
Post-flush I staggered out onto the beach at Koh Ngai, a tiny island off the coast of Trang, which itself is a small undeveloped town about four hours from Phuket (pronounced Poo - ket, like a combination of "poo bucket," which is essentially my opinion of Phuket). I watched the sun rise over the high rock formations and the aqua green water--I and four Germans, of course--before I had to retreat back to the bathroom. By that time, though, Gregg had emerged to watch the sunrise too, so the beautiful damn thing wouldn't go unwatched by American-made eyes (Ford tough, heaviest doors on the pickup truck market)
Quick buffet breakfast, caught the 8 AM 45 minute speed-boat from the island back to the mainland of Trang. Our minivan picked us up and sped away toward Phuket Airport, driving on the wrong side of the road at all opportunities (to pass cars, to pass trucks, to avoid running over leafs, etc.) but no one really minded. The van ride back to Phuket Airport was much more enjoyable than the van ride from Phuket Airport, during which I curled up into a ball, all of my limbs sore and stiff, my lungs in too much pain to breathe through, and I slept feverishly the entire way, waking up once, getting at Doctor Mom's urging a bottle of water which I never drank and a carefully selected pack of crackers that my sister ended up eating because I couldn't/wasn't hungry despite having eaten only half a soft pretzel all day.
Friday's post is going to be fun!
Anyway, much more enjoyable ride back to Phuket than leaving Phuket. Greg was listening to some kind of farm noise sampler, as far as I could tell from his headphones. I managed to fall asleep for about thirty minutes. I dreamed about being rich, like I always do. I woke up having to go diarrhea. I had eaten one of Leslie's anti-diarrheal pills earlier, and I am here to declare that ANTI-DIARRHEAL PILLS ARE BULLSHIT, MAN. Because I took two pills and I went diarrhea more than twice afterwards.
After interrupting the janitors clean-up service in the men's room toilets at Phuket International (sorry, ladies, for everything), I met up with the family and Greg (his parents had already gone to Bangkok) for a final meal. We chose Chester's, which was chosen despite, or perhaps because of, my description of it as the Thai Denny's. I got a chicken filet sandwich. It tasted like Checker's, I guess. I gotta eat. I also gotta diarrhea afterwards.
Are you catching the leitmotif here? Or perhaps it's more of a darkmotif--a brown-motif--a Shite-motif, if you will.
We hugged goodbye. No one cried in front of anyone else that I know about. Though I know there was crying.
It was 1:20. My parents and family went to their flight. My ticket counter didn't even open until 2, and my flight was at 4. I sat down next to an old Thai person in the ticketing terminal at Phuket International Airport, and I waited, hoping that no liquid would leave my body in the foreseeable future.