Taxi to Bangkok,
I made several mistakes with the taxi to Bangkok. the first, and by far the most serious was not going by train.
The second was not having an overdose of Mogadon prior to getting in the front passenger seat.
The third was falling asleep at the beginning of the journey when the traffic was lightest.
For a good couple of hours I slept. This left me with two hours plus of wide awake terror as we hit the outskirts of Bangkok in heavy rain and very heavy traffic.
The driver, Mr Boy, (yup, honest) must have taken twenty phone calls whilst I was awake, No, sorry, he must have received ten and made ten. The incoming calls were not so bad, Just look at the screen for a few seconds and take the call. It was the outgoing calls that gave me the severest rectal tremors. They meant the eyes were off the road for what appeared to be decades. First we had to plug the bloody phone in to the cigarette lighter socket – each time! Not necessary for incoming calls it would appear, but obviously vital for outgoing calls. Then the scrolling down to the recipient. Why we had to scroll through the whole bloody alphabet I haven’t a clue, but we did. Finally the call is made. Then he plugs his fucking ear piece in! This is going on while in severe, monsoon type rain and trying to see who the driver in front was talking to on his phone! I can honestly tell you that at some times I could not see the car in fronts number plate because we were just too close.
Now if you imagine the North Circular road in London, three lanes wide, with thousands of cars on it. I mean thousands. And all doing around 70 to 80 kilometres an hour, and literally in each others boots then you have a clue as to how I was feeling.
It was frightening.
Lane hopping was mandatory. Perfectly allowable to overtake on the inside if there was just a tiny chance of gaining a foot more of road. And if you could go from inside lane to outside lane and back again within a hundred and fifty metres then I feel sure you were entered for some sort of prize. Bear in mind that EVERYONE appears to be doing this!
We were in a Honda people carrier. They are fantastic cars. Somehow Honda have designed a car that can move sideways between two forward moving vehicles that has space between them around a metre shorter than the Honda itself. It is fucking amazing! And all this at a minimum speed of 70k per hour with the driver on the phone to his bookie, mistress, whoever and the passenger a gibbering wreck mopping up urine from the footwell.
Mr Boy, I might add, was no better or worse than everyone else driving that night. It was just dodgems, Bangkok style, and for real.
The traffic in Hua Hin was frantic, chaotic and dangerous in it’s own way. But Bangkok’s suburban terrorism on wheels brought a new meaning to our UK phrase of dangerous driving.
British traffic cops on the M25 would have orgasms and ticket writers cramp just ten minutes into a shift if we drove like this in the UK.
This was the first, and I hope the last, car ride I have taken where, halfway through it, I actually entertained the thought that I haven’t yet made a will.
Honest !
The Hotel was an absolute blessing to see. The receptionist was not only stunningly attractive but had impeccable English.
Her first words to me were ” Welcome to the Chatrium Hotel. We hope you enjoy your….. Are you alright sir? You’re very white”.