It’s 1.37 am in Bangkok, and I am sitting in the very appropriately named OK Place Airport Hotel (because it really is just ‘okay’ — it’s not good, it’s definitely not great, in fact, it’s barely passable), a stone’s throw away from Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi International Airport, trying to ignore the noise outside the hotel coming from a nearby Thai brothel which is pumping up the bass with a steady boom-boom-boom and from the jets that roar directly overhead every five minutes.
I should have known better than to book any place where the room is US $20 a night — really, it is never worth it, especially not after having just spent a grand total of 25 hours sitting on not one, not two, but three separate international flights which is enough to kill any normal human being. I’ve just downed two melatonin sleeping pills, popped in the ear plugs, and drank three very strong glasses of rum to ensure that I sleep through the noise. And as I sit here in this horrible cheap assed hotel, above all the noise and the exhaustion and the ants crawling on the wall, above the fact that I have just spent an entire day of my life flying and my ass is flat, my skin is dry and my lips are cracked, there is only one thought that keeps going through my mind… I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT!!!
Be warned, and take it from someone who has done this ridiculous long distance travel four times in the last five years… long-haul travel is NOT for the faint of heart. I left Trinidad on Tuesday evening and now it’s 1.43 am on Thursday morning. I have realised that unless you are a sprightly 18 year old, flying for 25 hours straight through four countries is just riduclous, impossible, inhumane.
The route was Port-of-Spain to JFK, but due to a snowstorm the flight from JFK to Tokyo took off an hour late. That meant that when I arrived in Tokyo, I had to run like absolute hell to get to the connecting flight to Bangkok. Amazingly, there were six other people running like hell right next to me through the Tokyo airport, all of us having come from JFK. We all streaked onto the plane, the very last passengers to embark, panting and groaning and gasping for air. Thank god for the flight attendants, who knew that our flight was late and waited for us. But I tried to imagine, could I do this if I were 50 years old? Or even 40 years old? I’m barely 30, and I already feel like it is too much!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got one more flight to catch — the last step of the journey — Bangkok to Koh Samui. Thank goodness it’s just a one-hour domestic flight. This I think I can survive.