Reunited and it Feels so Good

We made it!  Back in Bangkok in time to pick up the next character in our cast, Big White Girl #3.  I may also refer to her as my sister, Dayna, but I know it must be hard to keep all us broads straight at this point in the story.  

Besides retrieving the third musketeer, returning to the big city this week was good timing for us.  Not even halfway through this trip and I am all out of passport pages.  I read the guide books, I promise, and thought I had plenty of pages left in my book.  It turns out that every bloody country has adopted the gargantuan visa sticker that monopolizes a full passport page normally reserved for four stamps.  Near experts at international bureaucratic shenanigans at this point (customs, extensions and visas, oh my!), I was unfazed by what now seems like another day at the office.  Plus, I was secretly looking forward to a little visit to the U.S. Embassy for some American soil action where upon seeing our blue passports they would surely greet us with open arms and a grande soy mocha.  The U.S. Embassy welcome wagon almost lived up to my expectations with a full body pat down and the confiscation of nearly all my personal belongings.  The passport augmentation was actually fairly painless with the exception being that after months of traveling in foreign countries, this time I could actually understand the assholes who were complaining in the waiting area.    

After taking care of business we were off to celebrate our reunion properly.  The last time Kelly and I were in Bangkok we were still drying out from New Years and completely forwent the tourist bar scene.  Bolstered with our shiny new livers and younger sibling to boot, we took to the bar lined street that is Khao San Road.  Known as the party strip of Bangkok, the clubs laugh at the idea of a typical American sized cocktail and choose to serve all beverages in a bucket...and at a  bargain: 2 for 1.  My pristine liver was no match.  After a solid attempt at dancing (my robot was on point!), it was time to go home.  

Three fried street snacks later, we hailed a tuk tuk to take us home.  For unknown reasons the driver assumed we were drunk and thought he could pull one over on us by taking us to a bar across town instead of our requested destination.  Some of the less reputable drivers receive commission from the bars for bringing in business in the form of drunken tourists.  Apparently he didn't know this fact though: Three inebriated girls equals approximately one Mensa member.  Unfortunately the genius was a bit slow to kick in and we paid the douche before realizing we were nowhere close to our hotel.  Fortunately though, Dayna did have enough wherewithal to jump back into the tuk tuk to demand our money back.  Shockingly, the small asian man did not think zero fare and no bar commission was a good deal.  Dayna wasn't budging.  He retorted by taking off with Dayna in tow.  Let's make something clear here; no one kidnaps my baby sister (ok, slightly dramatic, but who doesn't love drama?).  In a moment of pure athleticism that can only be achieved by several buckets of mojitos, I was able to dive into the moving tuk tuk.  A shouting match ensued as Dayna and I demanded our money back from the slight man (who at this point is clearly on something and the paranoia now showing in his dilated pupils) and him flat out refusing as he hit the gas.  How he thought he was going to get away from us while we were still physically in his vehicle is beyond me.  Occupying the tuk tuk with the one person with whom I can have a full conversation without words, Dayna and I looked at each other and, with our still alcohol enhanced reflexes, pinned the petite driver from behind to his seat.  That sure stopped him.  Realizing he was the size of my right thigh and desperate to get the behemoths out of his vehicle he conceded to giving us our money back.  Panicking, from what is surely known as Giantphopia, he conceded to giving us our money back and accidentally returned more than we had originally paid.  Bonus!

A few days later when renting motor bikes, the lady at the rental office made a point of telling me to pump up the tires before heading out for the day.  Spreading her arms wide in the universal "you're a huge bitch" sign, she over emphasized the tires' need for extra air in order to haul my ass around.  While normally a self esteem killer at least I can take solace in knowing that it was this precise characteristic that got me out of the sticky situation with the tiny tuk tuk tweeker AND earned me a profit.  Advantage: Big Girls.  

Don't worry, the tires held up after all