The line in front of the Heathrow Thai Airways counter for the Bangkok flight had a large contingent of bald middle-aged-and-upwards English men. Their skin was red but not sunburned, red from capillary-damaged boozing and grim weather. There were Geordie accents, Manc accents, London accents. Red eggs in a line off to paradise. They were on their own like me, or with their petite Thai wives and mistresses.
On the plane, a Thai woman sat next to me. In her 30s. She had good tanned skin, friendly eyes, with a mask on, and a ponytail she kept fixing. She wore a pink sweatshirt and nibbled from a large bag of Haribo. She would hand the pack over to her two female friends who were sat in the seats behind us.
The flight was 11.5 hrs long, being cramped into a seat breathing recycled air. I had a whiskey coke and sleeping pill to correct that. When I woke, the lady was still nibbling Haribo bears. The flight attendant handed me a breakfast tray. Omelette with spinach and a red cherry tomato on top. Croissant and yoghurt. I washed it down with orange juice.
On the descent, out of the window, I saw temples and rivers and fields and apartment blocks.
In the airport, I sat down in a restaurant called THAI STREET FOOD. I had Tom yam gung with a coconut drink. 1700 yen Japanese. THAI STREET FOOD AT AIRPORT PRICES.
A young Australian fella with a beard and large head faced me.
“Alrite, mate” he said.
“Alrite,” I said back. He was completely bald but with a mass of implanted hair follicles shaped in a crest at the front of his head. Like a shield.
My food came, and another young fella sat down with a cap on. The two fellas got talking. About hair transplants.
“I used to wear a cap, also,” said the bearded guy.
They discussed how hair transplants in Thailand were much cheaper than hair transplants in Australia. How they were also cheap in Turkey and India. All interesting stuff.
The airport was full of eager young Brits and Aussies off to Phuket island and full moon parties. I was glad I was going the other way. To Chiang Mai. I finished off my plate and walked to the gate. The folk going to Chiang Mai – in my gate – were older, or if they were younger, they seemed calmer. They weren’t chasing full moon parties.
There was lightning out of the plane on the way up to Chiang Mai and I needed to pee. The two gents in the other seats stood up and waited the whole time for me to come back in mild turbulence. We arrived in Chiang Mai at 10pm. It was 31 degrees and the runway was soaked in humid rain
