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Sunday, May 6, 2007– Bangkok, Thailand– Sambara Guest House

Perfect. Waking up, white sheet rustles my legs, dancing in the breeze of the ceiling fan. The fan beats a percussive whisper, somewhere rain or maybe a shower pat a pat a pats, birds whistle and twit twit twit, the alley cats of Siam cry at the clang jostle clang of the tuk tuk bouncing down the alley beneath our draped window. My love mumbles and rolls closer to me, arms grasping my waist and leg. Blinking, sleepy eyes see the morning glow on the soft yellow walls. The bamboo lamp reminds me of the beach destination ahead of us. Conscious of the lightness on my forehead, around my ears, I remember my new 100 Baht haircut (about $3 American), the perfect cut for this perfect time.

Outside now for some tea on the patio, I discover a fountain flowing onto ancient goldfish. Over stepping stones, a smiling young Thai girl carries plates of fresh toast to us. A saucer of strawberry jam makes my breakfast complete. Duelling cats in the alley. This is perfect.

After yesterday morning’s comedy of errors, I had my doubts. We overslept 45 minutes after only four hours of sleep. We were packed already, so we hurriedly dressed and called our taxi. He took us easily to Geumcheon Station. Stepping out of the taxi, we watched our bus pull away. Our bus, the 3000 would take us all the way to the Incheon Airport Terminal– a korean friend from work recommended this bus. Koreans are unbelieveably fatefull with directions, but this girl is really sharp, and she’s one of the only ones whose navigation I’d trust. Adam was angry that we missed the bus and considered taking a taxi to Ilsan, but where would we catch the bus in Ilsan? He bought a nasty sweet roll from the Family Mart that I stuffed in the overflowing trash can. A 5000 bus passed, and we thought “should we have taken that one?”

Twenty minutes’ wait delivered us another 3000, and we enthusiastically flagged it down. The driver asked us, “Odi?– where?”

“Incheon, please.”

“Odi?” and he made a hand signal like an airplane.

“Yes!” we responded.

“No! Oh-chunn– 5000 bus.”

“No!” we argued. He stepped out of the bus to get a drink at the Famliy Mart, and we aggresively pointed at the bus sign showing Incheon Terminal. Resigned, he waved us into the bus, nearly shourting as he lectured us about what we couldn’t guess.

Finally on the bus, Adam and I surmised about why the driver didn’t want to take us to the airport– he didn’t like foreigners, his shift was almost over, he wanted to be alone with the one other woman on the bus. We couldn’t imagine. I felt uneasy. We checked the time. Planning to be on the bus by 5:30 a.m., we were now on a roll at 6:30. The friend who shall remain nameless had said the ride was 60-90 minues long. Maybe at the early hours of morning, we could catch a fast wind to the airport. We needed to be there by 7:30 or 8:00 to catch our 9:30 a.m. international flight.

We passed through Ilsan, and I noted the Kintex building where our friend Angela said she was catching the airport shuttle. The bus was cheaper, and we only had to taxi the short distance to Geumcheon, so it seemed better. Driving, driving. Adam fell asleep, but it was okay because I began seeing signs for the airport. Signs, more signs, and then we exited the highway. It was about time, too, nearly 8:00. The bus weaved for forever through streets and morning traffic until most of the other passengers had gotten off. Finally, I saw a sign for terminal parking, and I woke Adam up. Where was the airport? The bus turned into the parking lot, and I saw it… Incheon Bus Terminal. Oh no! 90 minutes from take-off, and our bus was coming to nest not at the airport, but at the central bus hub of Incheon. So that was what the bus driver was yelling at us about. Adam began his tyrade about another case of bad directions from a Korean as we grabbed our backpacks and dumped our into the sea of buses and people waiting for buses.

It was time to bite the bullet and take a taxi. We were already in Incheon, so the cab shouldn’t be too much, should it? We ran across the courtyard and waved a taxi. We made an airplane zoom with our hands, and the driver nodded. “Bali bali!– Go fast!” we told him, 60 minutes before take-off. Driving, weaving, driving, speeding back to the highway and signs for the airport. Phew. What a fisco. The meter began ticking up, up, up. Airport 17 kilometers. Up, up, up.

“Which terminal?” One, please. As the meter approached 35,000 Won ($35 American), he pulled to the curb at 8:50, 40 minutes to take off. Adam handed him 40,000 Won, and the driver waved us good bye as he cleared the meter. Adam burst as he cussed and demanded our 5,000 Won in change. The driver started screaming back in Korean. We pointed at the meter, but it was zeroed out. The driver dug for 5,000 Won, waved it at Adam, then refused to give it to him. We slammed out of the taxi and burst into the airport. Our check-in was on the other end. As we ran, I panted that if the law of attraction is true, we needed to release the terrible morning and welcome good fortune for the rest of the journey. Adam laughed, “At least our counter isn’t the very last one.” That’s more like it.

We got in a line that was frozen still. I ducked out to the no baggage counter where there was no line. My bag had to be checked because of its weight, but the woman’s eyes grew large as she saw the time of our flight. We waved Adam to us, and she checked us in. “Your flight is boarding now.” We flew through security with no trouble at all (it’s easy when you’re not lugging your computer). Moving walkways sped us to gate B33, and the line was just forming to board the plane. Sigh. Perfect. With assigned seats, we didn’t have to stand in line, so I took a much-needed bathroom break, and Adam ran to the Dunkin Donuts.

On board, we napped and dined on fishy airplane food. The screen reminded me that Thailand has rich culture, not just great beaches. I watched the window with expectation…

…next time, First Impressions…

-Jessica