*It's For Good Luck!

Once in Thailand, I get my first typical Thai tourist experience: the taxi driver rips me off.

My pockets empty, I begin to explore the wasteland of tourists that is Khao San Road at 3:00 in the morning on a Thursday. The bars are still open, and there are still a fair number of people, which is either an ode to jet lag or one of the saddest phenomena ever.

II see a sign for D&D tailors, but no D&D inn – he must have dropped me off in the wrong fucking place. Whatever. I check in to a place nearby and decide to nap for a few hours while I wait for Josh and Melody to show up. Within 2 minutes of being in my room, I see two different species of cockroaches, how exciting!

I should mention that I’m checking in without luggage; apparently, while I made it to my connection in San Francisco, my luggage was not so fleet-footed, and it will arrive tomorrow.

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In the morning, after a delightful 3 hours of sleep to the pounding bass line of whatever shitty club is below me, I manage to check out and walk around to see if I can’t find the D& D Inn. Naturally, I realize as soon as I walk out that A) I was less than 300 feet away from it, and B) the sign is about 30 feet tall and luminescent green, so the fact that I missed it is a source of some pretty serious embarrassment.

I go and check at the front desk, and it turns out Josh and Melo have left a note for me so I wander on upstairs. There’s a lot of “Schmurrpants” and random honks that accompany our reunion, and it’s all very touching if a little sleepy considering the hour.

My hotel room at the D&D Inn is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever stayed at. It’s got this weirdly zen quality that I just can’t describe, and it’s comfortable and quiet and cool, and costs 30 dollars a night. Thailand is the best.

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Once we’re all a bit more awake, we decide to try and find the Amulet Market. It sounds like something out of Indiana Jones, which is pretty much our main motivation for heading there. We take a boat taxi. There are lots of different types of taxis in Thailand: boat taxis, bike taxis, motorcycle taxis, truck taxis, and the ever-popular tuk-tuk! Tuk-tuks are different from motorcycle taxis, because when you take a tuk-tuk you sit in a little carriage being pulled by a motorcycle, while the motorcycle taxi actually just means you sit on the back of some guy’s motorcycle and hope he doesn’t decide to take you out into the country and trade you for opium.

The boat taxi drops us off at the wrong place, and we spend a lot of time asking for directions and getting a lot of different answers. Everyone is very helpful, and almost all of them are wrong. Eventually, we find the it: a sprawling complex of small golden monkeys riding penises that have animal back legs*, and other delightful ornaments. Josh negotiates for pipes but can’t find one that is in the right price range of “I don’t really want to pay for that.”

We head back to Khao San, and manage to get pulled into a shop that sells beautiful paintings on black velvet sheets. The owner is deaf, and I let myself pretend that he’s the artist behind the paintings. It’s a hard illusion to maintain once we walk outside and see approximately a billion other shops with the same stuff, but I just tell myself he’s possessed of a prolific artistic spirit and doesn’t have room in his shop for all his material.

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NOTE: Saw a lady wearing a suit with a nametag that said “Optional.” Not sure if that meant she chose the option of the optional nametag, or failed to choose the option of having her own name on the optional nametag. Mysteries abound in Bangkok.

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New Years in Bangkok seems to consist of very drunk foreigners (see exhibits A and B) wearing glowing, flashing cat ears. The mixture of people is very diverse; I’ve never heard so many languages slurred so badly in one place before.

We meet up with Damian, who is tall, wearing a very bright green striped shirt and has no hair: excellent characteristics for a new friend to have in a crowd this size. Thank goodness I am still wearing my slightly soiled bright pink shirt (my luggage has not yet arrived) so that my friends can find me. If they can’t see the pink, they can smell the stink – this is day three of wearing this particular assortment of cloths.

Earlier today we watched the Hangover 2, which is clearly why my sister’s boyfriend was so nervous about me going to Bangkok by myself. Damian appears in the middle of this and asks us curiously if we are planning on actually leaving the hotel room at any point. It turns out it is already 10:30.

We meet up downstairs (eventually – there is a brief disorganized shitshow involving the hotel’s policy for guests/prostitutes) with Andy and Tuck, friends from Josh and Melo’s school. After that, things devolve into a lot of beer, several rounds of silly string, and a lot of regretful pictures with strangers.

Eventually Melody helps me upstairs and pours me in to bed. It is very hard to move my legs on my own, not because I am too drunk but because I am laughing too hard. I am, however, laughing too hard because I am very terribly drunk, so I guess it all comes back to Chang and rum in the end. Melody insists on making me drink water, tucking me into the sheets, and turning the AC to just the right level. How she manages this when her current blood alcohol level rivaling mine is unknown. It must be a New Year’s Miracle.

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Exhibit A: The Missile

A 3 foot tall structure full of beer, the missile is equipped with an icy core designed to keep beer frosty cold as you slowly use it to poison your body. As it is made, apparently, of glass, I would imagine many missiles are shattered tonight.

Exhibit B: The Bucket

Filled with a toxic combination of “whiskey” (actually rum), coke and red bull, this sandbox-sized specialty is certain to give you a heart attack while simultaneously making you drunk enough to not remember the hospital stay.

Airports: a Sampling

From the air, San Francisco Airport is a patchwork quilt of red estuaries. Some are dried and cracked, while others are scarred with the trails of optimistic vehicles which spread out before rapidly aborting in what one can even see from the air is deep mud. The faint tracing of flowing streams braid through them, tendrils coiling purposely through oxide-tainted muck. The plane swoops low down over the bay, and dots resolve into boats, then buoys, then birds.

From the ground, San Fancisco Airport is a blur of hastily read and followed signs, for my flight was delayed and I now have only 30 minutes to get my ticket, fly through security, and dash to my gate. I am thankful I’m in San Francisco however; clear signs and an orderly layout make it pretty easy to get there in time. LAX, which appears to be a maze constructed by the devil himself, would have been a lot more stressful of an ordeal.

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The emergency instruction video on Korean Air is reminiscent of a 70’s vacation ad. Everyone is smiling awkwardly and dressed far better than anyone I can see in my immediate vicinity, and when presented with the emergency landing warning they react as if they’ve been told they are engaging in an impromptu rafting adventure. To be fair, that is true. Even their flotation devices look kitschy and fun; you inflate them by tugging twice like a train conductor and if that doesn’t work there’s a whistle-like backup valve you blow into… which is also sort of like a train conductor.

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Lunch on Korean Air is bibimbap, which is a delicious combo of rice and veggies. It came with instructions. There were five steps: add the rice to the veggies, add the chili paste to the rice and veggies, add sesame oil, stir, and eat. It came with directions in English, chinese and Korean, and color pictures just in case I was still floundering on how to consume this complicated delicacy of shit you put in a bowl and stir together.

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Note: Action movies are dramatically less cool on airplanes, partly because you’re surrounded by so many people who are sleeping.

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At Seoul, I watch a TV show that consists of clips of this girl eating while wearing funny hats. She is pictured looking completely unconvinced (of what, I do not know) while holding a rainbow trout and wearing a duck hat. There is a frog hat for dumplings, hat of hair while eating rice, and bright pink cat ears must be a favorite because they show up for a few different food groups. She appears to be making slightly-awful jokes, if the way people around her are spraying food and avoiding eye-contact is any indication. They all seem to be endowed with excellent face-palming-supression skills.

I’d forgotten how much I loved watching TV that made absolutely no sense.

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NOTE: Korea doesn’t make you take off your shoes, thus preserving your nose and your dignity.

THE METAPHORICAL CONSTRUCTION ZOO

Here are some things that look like different things!

Rattlesnake Head!

Rhinoceros Beetle!

Brontosaurus!

And all followed by a worm!

TEN THINGS TO DO WHILE CONSTRUCTION MONITORING

(To Prevent Committing Homicide As An Act Of Self-Amusement)

1) Build Rock Piles!

It can be a stimulating challenge to pile one rock atop another, in the hopes of making the ultimate natural skyscraper, the hoodoo. To add difficulty, find rocks with rounded surfaces. Never forget the ultimate creative side of this activity - do not be afraid to spend many minutes searching for precisely the correct color or shape of stone as this, too, will help pass the time.

2) Suspend Rocks In Bushes!

This activity is most aesthetically pleasing when time is spent to find a variety of vibrant gravel pieces. Take care to gently place the stones in the crooks and forks of branches in your chosen bush, as one false move could potentially dislodge all previous efforts. A Salt Bush or Sagebrush is most highly recommended, due to their stability and highly branching limbs.

Here you can see the typical mistake of not choosing brilliant enough colors, and how it disguises the true beauty of your work.

3) Decorate Bushes with Flagging Tape!

The desert is littered with pieces of recyclable treasure in a whole rainbow of colors. Tear flagging into small pieces and impale them on the spiny protrusions of Yuccas, Joshua Trees, Cacti or Salt Bushes. Be sure to evenly distribute colors! Singing Christmas carols is an optional addition.

Oh Salt Bush, Oh Salt Bush, How Lovely Are Thy Spiky Protrusions!

4) Play Bejeweled On Your Phone!

Do not play the timed game, as the slow passage of seconds and minutes will be almost unbearably depressing.

5) Pace!

6) Balance Rocks On Other Objects!

A variation on the classic "Hoodoo" experience. Be aware that when your back is turned (likely to find more building materials) the construction workers may take it as a challenge to throw stones in order to knock down your artwork. Consider this an invitation to improve your work by seeking stones with the appropriate concave dent, suitable for lodging precisely on poles. As you increase your efforts, so too will they, until somebody wins.

Little does he know - he will NEVER get that rock off that pole.

7) Play Hacky Sack By Yourself, With Pebbles!

Be aware that each pebble is unique and will require different angles and force.

8) Kick Sticks!

To reduce foot pain, try to only kick the sticks that are not still attached to trees.

Tip: Don't Kick These.

9) Kick Rocks!

Know your size limits!

10) Get Overly Excited About Centipedes!

Finger-sized.

They may not be lizards, but you're bored - lower your standards!

First Impressions

Due to Kristy's aggressive tailgating philosophy ("If I drive close enough that he can feel my breath on his neck, he'll realize I want him to go faster, right?") we made it to Vegas in no time. Here are some of my first impressions of Vegas:

The curtains were really nice before I spilled beer on them.

Video poker = epically boring fail.
Kristy was very displeased with my assessment of this.

Sin City's version of Disneyland?

The pool at the Bellagio... the duck was pecking the home depot sign earlier. :(

Fascinating Facts About California, From The Perspective of A Safer, Smarter, Less-Sleepy Oregonian

1) California Likes Electronic Road Signs
Simple "Slow Down" signs are not good enough for California, they must use electicity at all costs to provide you with the terribly specific reasons you should slow down: there is a curve ahead, there are animals in the area, there's the potential for snow on the road, there may be an old person crossing the road at any given time, tortoise crossings, or imminent alien attack. Thank god they were smart enough to put in the ever-adaptable electronic sign format, or how would I know what to expect ahead? Californians clearly don't want to be slow for the sake of being slow, they need a thorough explanation of WHY.

2) California is Afraid of Water
We saw a "Heavy Rains" sign... and heat-related mirages. Come to think of it, perhaps Californians can't tell the difference between water mirages and actual water on the road?

3) Californians are Deep Sleepers
The yellow lines on the sides of the roads are lined in two layers of noise-producing bumps. While most states have grooved asphault outside of the lines to wake drivers up before they drive completely off the road, California also has yellow reflectors to tell their drivers: "YOU ARE ALMOST ABOUT TO CROSS A LINE THAT COULD LEAD TO YOU ALMOST DRIVING OFF THE ROAD." Much like setting two alarms in the morning, California is concerned that the aggressive tire-grating sound of the outside grooves will not be enough to wake up their sleepy head drivers.

In conclusion, Californian drivers must know what is waiting for them around each and every cornor, are terrified of water in any state, and from driving with all this terror often drive off the road in fits of exhaustion. No wonder they can't come up with new names....

Shasta Post

California has the most unoriginal naming scheme ever.

That was my first thought as I left the Oregon border on my epic journey to my new home in Vegas. It seemed as if California had siezed upon a name, decided it was good, and applied to every landmark in the nearby vicinity. Over the course of an hour of driving we saw a Shasta lake, mountain, mountain city, boulevard, college and county. Whoever Shasta was, apparently they're the only cool thing that has every happened to Northern California, and nobody worth naming anything after has occurred since.

There is, of course, the exclusion of this one street, which has a name so original that I must believe they are simply trying to win a competition in the Guiness Book of World Records. Most difficult pronunciation, perhaps? Or maybe someone on the planning council was playing a very high-risk game of scrabble and needed to come up with a real location to support their high-scoring entry?