Escape from Songkran

In 2007 Songkran started early, despite the cool rainy weather. Drunken bar girls and their patrons jump-started the water festival two days before the official opening date, April 13. My wife and daughter deserted Pattaya for their family celebration of the Thai New Year. I had no intentions of enduring the expected aquatic mayhem, but my good friend Nick and I waited for the traffic frenzy to subside.

Good news.

Only 100 vehicular fatalities on the first day. 10 off last year's pace.

No worries, because our destination was Cambodia via Trat and Nam Lek, the Thai town bordering Cambodia.

Departure time: 8am 4/14/2007 on a mini-bus.

800 baht one way.

Neither of us had hit the bars the previous night. The mini-van was crowded with farangs seeking sun on Koh Chang. We had nothing to say to them and read our books for the first leg of our journey. There were little signs of Songkran other than a few police road blocks and several groups of well-wishers politely sprinkling cars with scented water.

"Think it will be like this in Pattaya?"

"No." Nick was dying for a cigarette. "The cunts will be going mad for the next seven days. Best thing we could do was leave."

I buried my face in BONES a novel about getting work in TV comedy.

It was easy going and my fingers turned the pages with an unexpected eagerness. By the time we arrived in Trat to change buses, I was almost finished with the book.

"Don't tell me you read that fast?" Nick was on the last pages of Danny King's THE BURGLAR DIARIES, a tale about a cockney housebreaker. "You must skim the pages."

"No way. I read every single words." I just don't register them all.

"What's that smell?" Nick's slender nose wrinkled with fisgust. Someone hadn't bathed, but it wasn't me, Nick, or the old man next to him. Thais are devoted bathers.

"Someone hasn't learned about personal hygiene," I said this loud enough for the backkpackers in the rear of van to hear.

"Yeah," Nick covered his nose and said to the old man. "Menh."

The old man nodded in agreement. Several of the other Thais glared at the backpackers.

When we pulled into the next stop, I felt I had to say something. "Excuse me, one of you needs to take a bath."

"What do you mean? We showered this morning." The taller one smelled his armpit.

"You use deodorant?"

"No, we don't use chemicals." His accent was Dutch.

"Well, you really smell bd. And the Thais are upset about it."

"There is nothing to do about it." He stood up straight, as if to say he smelled like a rose. "Does this bus continue to the border?"

"I don't know," Nick admitted honestly.

I did know the answer and spoke to the driver in Thai before saying, "NO, you have to wait for another bus. Should be coming soon."

"Where are you going?" The cheesehead was suspicious.

"We're going to the casino."

They took out their backpacks and the driver drove off with us breathing easier.

"You lied to them." Nick's tone was apolegetically accusatory.

"Yeah. Thought it was for the best."

"Good man."

And we reached the border safely and sound.

Good-bye Thailand. Hello Cambodia.