Three Mistakes on a Hot Day in Bangkok

I think I’m finally adapting to the heat and humidity here. By adapting, I mean that my entire body has transformed itself into a single, massive sweat gland.

Yesterday morning, as I dressed for my visit to the Amulet Market, I made the first mistake. I’d run out of clean underwear and decided to just go commando. I do it all the time at home, right? What could possibly go wrong?

My second mistake was wearing a fancy shirt I’d purchased from REI right before I left home. It was a high-dollar, high-tech, water-resistant short sleeve with an SPF of 30 (huh?). I think it even spoke Spanish. What it did not do, alas, was ventilate. At all. Wandering about the market in 96 degree temps and 100% humidity, I felt like I was wearing a $50 garbage bag.

I was soon drenched, with sweat running down my back and soaking my pants — I looked like I’d been bobbing for apples with my ass. Eventually making my way onto the grounds of a quiet university, I found a bench in the shade, and sat awhile to cool off — setting the scene for my third mistake.

Without even thinking, I leaned to the side to sneak a fart and… well, you probably can guess where this is going. I immediately lept up from the bench — dear God, had I caught it time? Some cautious shifting of my cheeks told me nothing — everything was soaked and slippery.

This is when I realized that no matter now you turn and twist, you really can’t see your own ass. At least I can’t (and don’t bother writing to tell me you can, hippie). I didn’t have a mirror and I sure as hell wasn’t going to put my hand down there. The only solution I could think of was to find a bathroom where I could drop my pants and assess the situation. (no pun intended)

I set off for the Banglampoo district — with its tourist-oriented restaurants — hoping to catch a tuk tuk. For the first time ever, there were no tuk tuks to be found. Not a one. Dropping my backpack as low as possible to hide my hypothetical badge of shame, I did a crazy Charlie Chaplin duck-walk for over a kilometer, my stomach protesting and my butt cheeks clenched. A sped-up video of this with a Yakety Sax soundtrack would have been a YouTube sensation.

The first restaurant I found was a small Korean cafe and it was thankfully empty, save for two waitresses who kindly pointed me to the upstairs toilet while keeping their giggling to a polite minimum. The bathroom was an unventilated box — much like the ones they keep prisoners in as punishment — and just slightly hotter than the surface of the sun. To my surprise and relief, I found that I had caught it in time — no badge for this road warrior! But after five minutes in the Box, sweat was cascading off me like a Las Vegas fountain.

Walking down the stairs, I discovered that the cafe had now filled with tourists. It was their wide-eyed stares that finally broke my will — I was done. It was time to go back to the hotel. I thanked the still-giggling waitresses, scurried from the restaurant, and caught a tuk tuk (now sitting right outside) to the water taxi where I nearly fell into the canal while boarding.

It would have been a relief.

Tagged as: amulet, Bangkok, heat, humor, sweat