Sweet Bitter

I often don’t realize how badly I need a vacation till I’ve come back from one. Five days in Phuket left my spirit refreshed, lungs cleansed, muscles tenderized and skin toasted. I want more.

The land of a thousand smiles is every bit that. For whatever reason, the few people who didn’t readily offer us big beaming grins were either wait staff at overpriced western restaurants, or tourists. Now that I think about it, that’s probably a chicken-and-egg thing.

We were greeted by rain and thunderstorms every day that we were there, but the sun always managed to come through the clouds shortly after so you’d quickly forget about the bad weather. What’s more, the seawater’s so clear you can see the details on corals meters below; the sand’s so fine it turns into a smooth paste when met with water; the sky’s so blue it makes the fake sky ceilings inside the Venetian look realistic in comparison. What’s not to smile about?

It didn’t take long for this trip to take me back to a eureka moment I had while on a cab in Bangkok 11 months ago, the moment I realized how good life could be and should be, and that it just hadn’t been because of the decisions I was making. I think this trip also put J in perspective about just how toxic Hong Kong really is and made him appreciate the urgency of getting the hell outta here.

This awakening was reinforced as the trip came to an end. We’d barely settled into our seats on the return flight to Hong Kong before the guy sitting next to J spills hot coffee on him and takes a good five minutes to get a single “sorry” out of his mouth. But he didn’t wait five seconds before chatting me up while J went to clean up in the bathroom. This is the same guy who needed a flight attendant to personally come over and tell him to turn off the iPhone in his hands for takeoff, then later left it on where else but on his open tray table during landing; the same guy who despite being only 2/3 of J’s size, helped himself to 1/3 of J’s leg room by spreading his legs Sharon Stone style the entire time.

Our flight arrived 10 minutes late, so we had a hell of a time trying to make the very poorly planned out transfer at Bangkok. We ran like Forrest from one end of the airport to the other just barely reaching the gate before it closed, only to be in the uncomfortable presence of Thai Airways ground staff who neither smiled nor offered any verbal acknowledgement of our existence. No attempt to lift the corners of their mouths, no eye contact, no sawasdee, no good evening, no thank you. It’s strangely unsettling to see anyone working frontline in the service industry not even trying to be polite; to experience this in Thailand of all places was just surreal. It was as if they knew we were headed back to the land of no smiles and gave us a preview.

I saw it coming, but J was surprised and pissed that our overhead compartment was already full by the time we got on the plane. There’s always someone who buys too much and someone who brings everything carry-on. Soon as the seatbelt sign dimmed the woman sitting in front of J ― whose wardrobe, hair and full makeup screamed high maintenance ― got out of her seat, opened our overhead compartment and pulled out a bag. J and I exchanged a “that explains a lot” look.

I was trying to relax and hang on to my holiday mood for as long as I could by staring out the window into Bangkok’s evening skies, when I was nudged in the arm by a fugly foot in a pink sock that decided to use my arm rest as an ottoman. If it hadn’t made physical contact with me I probably wouldn’t even have noticed it, but once I’d come face to face with it, it had to go. So like I would with other pests I shooed it away with the in-flight magazine. This being my experience, of course the foot made its way back and I had to confront the face behind it with a clearly worded explicit request and a very sarcastic "thank you". It was either that or yanking the pink sock off the fugly foot and tossing it out the window. She's lucky the windows don't open.

Interestingly enough, neither the coffee guy nor the foot woman was Chinese. I'm starting to think there’s something in Hong Kong’s polarity that makes people less and less considerate as they draw near. No race is safe.

It was only fitting that we were cranky and stressed out by the time we set foot in Hong Kong again. And just like that, we’re home.