The 27 Hour Journey to Bangkok
by Alyssa Ramos
I hated Bangkok just before I even got there. It all started with the adverse reviews I got from friends, plus the teeny tiny small reality that there was a military coup (when the military overthrows the government) proper ahead of my trip that was causing a 10pm curfew and unsafe riots. It was all downhill from there when my journey from Africa to Bangkok ended up taking 27 hours and my debit card was stolen within the first 5 minutes I was there.
I was supposed to go to Thailand by myself just after volunteering in South Africa with IVHQ and Dreams to Reality for a week, but luckily a single of my sorority sisters from Florida State randomly decided to book a final minute ticket to meet me out there. We had coordinated her flight completely so that she arrived at BKK at the same time as me about 8pm, and then we could cab to the hotel, Lebua at State Tower, which I purposely booked simply because it’s exactly where the notorious Skybar from the Hangover III is, and is open until 1am, meaning that we could remain out and delight in the night without having getting arrested.
Layover 1: Johannesburg, South Africa
Too terrible my connecting flight in Johannesburg got delayed three hours, totaling for a 5-hour layover. Normally, I’d be perfectly fine with this given that I can weblog for hours, having said that there were various complications that had been not possible to ignore. A single of them was that the 1 good hotel I splurged on to remain at so I could go to the rooftop bar would be nearing closing time by the time I got there, and while my pal would make it in time to have a drink, she wouldn’t be capable to verify into the hotel area that was booked beneath MY name till I got there.
But there were additional instant troubles taking place to me in Africa nevertheless. I’m not certain if you’ve heard of Johannesburg, but it doesn’t exactly have the greatest reputation for safety. Have you noticed the film Taken? That becoming stated, you can consider how comfortable I felt becoming a blond haired, blue eyed, solo American traveler hanging out in the Joberg airport by myself for 5 hours.
I would have loved to at least go see the city and purchase a souvenir, nonetheless I was advised not to leave the airport as if I were a liability for the reason that I had an American passport, and any miniscule possibility of having Ebola would send the media into a frenzy. Have I ever mentioned how a great deal I hate CNN and Fox News?
Rather, I decided to set up my layover-office at one particular of the restaurants so I could at least have wine even though I caught up on my blogs and charged all of my devices. Except, OH WAIT, I left the incredibly precise, South African-only plug adapter in the volunteer residence back in Muizenberg. It was a good factor I was in an airport exactly where there had been a lot of travel shops, even so it was not a great issue that I couldn’t stroll five feet with no receiving cat-referred to as or asked if I was the South African princess. It could have just about been flattering if my mind wasn’t stuck on Taken, or if I knew how to accept compliments in general.
Soon after my poor little MacBook Air got to 10% battery in a single hour, and that boomp noise that happens with the warning that you’re “now on reserve battery” pounded my heart, I lastly decided to make the hazardous journey to the travel shop to purchase however a different adapter. Seeing the little green light on my charger was the most fascinating portion of those 5 hours, aside from the four glasses of Chenin Blanc I had somehow managed to consume.
I believed it would be fine to just drink wine the whole time, due to the fact that’s what I generally do at airports, on planes, when I write, when I don’t create, and so forth., but of course the one particular time I’m by myself in freaking Africa attempting to get to Thailand, I screw it up.
So, I may or may perhaps not have noticed when I landed in Joberg that my connecting flight ticket to Abu Dhabi, my second layover spot, had somehow broke on the way there, but had % notion exactly where the stupid piece that they rip off and take when you board was. Being the really wise person that I am, I decided it would be Ok to have my wine very first and then figure out the annoying ticket situation, but in no way, shape, or kind, was that a excellent notion.
Following having lost due to the fact I couldn’t figure out exactly where the gate was because I had lost the portion of the ticket that had that tid bit of information on it, I ultimately found my way to the security checkpoint. I figured it would be quick to explain what happened to my ticket and that they’d just let me go due to the fact it had the date and flight quantity on it but, NOPE.
“They won’t let you board with this, you require to go back to ticketing.” The apologetic security guard informed me as my heart started to explode in my chest. My flight was scheduled to leave in twenty minutes, and I had to go all the way back to the front of the airport to get a new ticket. No significant deal.
‘I’m going to get stuck in Johannesburg. What the hell am I going to do in Johannesburg?!’ Eight million thoughts ran by means of my wine-infused brain as my wine-infused legs attempted to run to the opposite finish of the Johannesburg airport. I’m normally quite fantastic at keeping calm and carrying on, nevertheless the believed of having to obtain a hotel at evening by myself in Africa was about as comforting as seeing the incredibly lengthy line of people today at the ticketing counter.
Generally I would have been a polite, patient human and wait in line for my turn, on the other hand I was now down to fifteen minutes until take off, and slightly freaking out.
“Excuse me? Excuse me? I accidentally lost aspect of my ticket and my plane is about to leave,” I blubbered to the guy sitting at the closed ticketing desk. My complete face was burning with embarrassment and anxiousness from the stares from the people today in line who I had just skipped and the unlikely expression on the safety guards face. There was no way in hell I was going to make that flight.
“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Yet another ticket counter worker stated casually as she strolled up to examine the situation. “I, I, I, I believed it would be Ok, I believed they could just scan the barcode, am I going to miss my flight?” I was actually on the verge of tears even even though she looked slightly amused. ‘Yes, she’s here,‘ I heard the guy behind the counter say into his headset. Somehow by the fate of the freaking universe, the safety checkpoint guy had radioed the ticketing guy and told him my predicament.
“Thank you SO a lot, oh my god.” I huffed to the unbothered staff as I grabbed my new ticket and ran back to the safety checkpoint. I breezed via the empty line and passed by means of the metal detector with out beeping. I shoved my laptop back into my Harvey’s travel bag, and yanked my rolling carry-on off the conveyor belt and started generating a mad dash towards the terminal.
‘SHIT!’ I spun about, realizing that my passport was not in the usual pocket of my travel bag. I ran back as I saw the safety woman lifting my passport out of the plastic bin. “Sorry! That’s mine!” I blurted reaching out for it. She of course took her time examining it and even made me confirm my address and date of birth. She gave me the exact same “silly little girl” laugh and appear that the other people did at the ticketing booth ahead of lastly handing it more than.
I was actually the final individual on the plane but I was beyond thankful that I made it. Of course I was seated next to a guy who was from freaking Congo who kept trying to convince me that despite the fact that I had just volunteered and gone on a safari in South Africa, I didn’t really knowledge Africa and really should go to the even far more risky Congo next time, but I ended that convo true swift with some headphones and far more wine, then dozed off on the red eye.
Layover 2: Abu Dhabi
When I woke up at 6am we have been landing in Abu Dhabi for the second layover. I was a tiny shocked that they had us exit the plane through stairs straight onto the tarmac where we had to then take a shuttle to the arrival gate. There was a lot of construction going on outside also and it seemed like we have been surrounded by desert. I was not impressed.
But then when I entered the major location of the airport my thoughts was totally blown. I felt like Aladdin when he gets tricked into going in the Cave of Wonders. The bottom floor had additional luxury, high-end designer labels than Rodeo Drive, and all of it seemed to have a golden glow. When I went upstairs, I realized the glow was from the giant golden dome that was the epicenter of the circular airport.
After I walked about the circle a handful of instances I ultimately stopped at a single of the souvenir shops to get a handful of items. Strangely, and very sadly, I had been hunting at a genie lamp like the a single from Aladdin when my phone dinged with a Whatsapp message from my mother, informing me everybody’s favored genie, Robin Williams had passed away. I purchased the lamp in his honor, and headed off to come across my terminal.
I read the sign in front of my gate more than and over again but it nevertheless under no circumstances changed from ‘Sydney’ to ‘Bangkok’. I quadruple checked my ticket, just in case I had somehow mixed up my flights, but it had the appropriate gate, time, and location that I had originally booked.
“Excuse me? Is this the ideal gate for Bangkok?” I asked an official searching man. He examined my ticket, and then examined my sad-puppy-dog-face. “Your flight’s been delayed,” he mentioned apologetically, “come with me, I’ll take you to get some vouchers.” He handed me back my ticket then began walking devoid of explaining further. Um, what?!
Turns out that this flight was delayed too…but by six hours. The only vouchers they provided me have been for a hotel room across the street from the hotel but I didn’t precisely feel like trekking by way of the desert to get to it. Instead I opted for my newfound motto, “When in doubt, drink far more wine.”
Do you know what stands out additional than a blond girl in Africa? …A blond girl in U.A.E. To make matters worse, not only was I the ONLY blond person in the entire airport, but I was also the ONLY person drinking at 11am, which isn’t exactly acceptable to most people today there. You’d believe I’d find out.
When it was Ultimately time to go, I paid the most expensive tab I’d had so far, and shuffled back to the terminal to board my flight. Of course shitty ass Etihad failed to mention that they use mainly partner airlines, so I was left with no Wifi or energy outlets on freaking Air Sechilles, so decided to just sleep like a regular person.
Six hours later I ultimately landed in Bangkok for a total trip time of twenty-seven hours since I had left Cape Town. I was half asleep and hangry, and had just ultimately received my buddy’s message that there’s no mini bar in the space and to pick up wine from the airport. I shuffled over to the first Thai ATM I saw and withdrew 5000 Baht (about $156 USD), then dragged myself more than to the nearest Duty Absolutely free alcohol store.
“HA!” I accidentally said out loud when I study the price tag on the ordinarily-low-cost bottle of Yellowtail pinot grigio. They have been charging $40 for a bottle of wine that is only about $6 in the States. It wasn’t funny any longer when I realized that all of the wine was around that price. Rude.
I didn’t want to use my cash so went to go pay for it with my debit card but then,wait. Exactly where the hell was my debit card?! I frantically scoured by way of the contents of my bag and wallet, but it was nowhere to be identified. I rapidly paid in money (yes I still got the wine) and ran back to the ATM.
Of course it wasn’t nevertheless there, and of course the woman working the revenue exchange booth next to it hadn’t had anybody turn in a debit card, so that was just freaking superb. I felt a tiny dead inside, and extremely stupid… Just after twenty-seven hours of traveling to Thailand, I had lost my major source of funds within the first 5 minutes of becoming there. As they would say in The Hangover…F*cking Bangkok.
Comments
Post a Comment