Bangkok - The dark side

Have you ever tried writing with a heavy heart? Quite a weird motivating factor, and I don’t think I would want to continue if only it were not to release some of the pent-up feelings, which is like some sort of internal pressure cooker ready to blow its top off. Another reason why I’m hell bent on writing this piece is so that I could also portray another side of Bangkok that sounds so much like the Philippines, and it’s like I’m sliding down memory lane in the “City of Angels.”

The afternoon of December 19 starts with my getting ready for my regular weekly tennis game. Today would be different because I have a visitor from the Philippines who is here for a 15-day vacation. He used to be my regular tennis partner in MVC when I was still a 7^th day Adventist and I was looking forward to a night of slicing balls and dropping shots. The venue is at the opposite side of Bangkok from where we live, and we have to leave at least 2 hours before the scheduled play time since we would be traveling during rush hour.

Kokong and I leave at 6 pm for Bangkok Sports Center on board # 18 bus and the bus ride takes 30 minutes through the traffic snagged Ratchawithi. At the Victory monument we switch to the Sky Train for a ride to Phra Khanong and from there we hop on another bus to Pridi Bhanomyong where the tennis courts are located. We enjoy 2 hours of lively tennis with Noods and some Filipino businessmen and then we’re ready to go home. Elson Salvan suggests that we take the # 511 bus, and Kokong and I think it a good idea.

In retrospect, that decision shouldn’t have been made and it would have been better if we simply retraced our ride on the way home. The 511 bus takes so long to cross through the city and by the time we get to Pinklao it is 11:40 and a huge crowd is waiting in a dimly lighted street to board the last bus # 203.

The bus comes to a stop and the pushing and jostling commences as everyone wants to get home the by cheapest means. Kokong and I are one of the last to get in the bus and as I grab the door handles to climb on board I notice a guy behind me wearing dark blue pants and shirt. He also is in a hurry since the bus is starting to move. But just a second before the doors shut he jumps out the door and I start wondering why. On impulse I reach out my hand to check my wallet in the back pocket of my pants and it’s gone. I press the stop button by the door, the driver stops the bus, opens the doors and I jump off the bus in hot pursuit of the thief. On impulse kokong also jumps off after me, but by this time the thief is beyond reach.

Imagine two guys with backpacks and tennis racquets sullenly walking the night Bangkok streets, peering at dark spots, around garbage cans and side streets looking for a wallet that might have been hurriedly emptied and tossed aside by an escaping thief. After about an hour with no sign of a wallet we board a taxi cab and Kokong pays the fare.

In my room in that midnight hour I take stock of my loss and I am poorer by 300 US dollars, 2,000 Baht, 10,000 Laos Kip and 200 Philippine pesos. I also miss my MD license, my Philippine and US drivers licenses, SSS, PhilHealth and BIR cards, some pictures and telephone numbers. I also dread the confrontation with the wife knowing fairly well what could happen. Its 6 days to Christmas and the worst time to lose money.

I lull myself to sleep that night with the song, “Blessed Be Your Name,” and in the early morning I awaken to meditate on the dark and sinister side of Bangkok.