I
usually reserve my blog for my own follies in Thailand but a good friend told
me this story and it’s pretty funny. If you knew “my friend” you’d think to
yourself, “Of course that happened to her.”
Yesterday
“my friend” took a pick-up truck to an unnamed provincial capital
to stock up on ramen and canned goods for her fridge-less apartment at the big-box chain, Big C.
After filling her cart with carbs, “my friend” stopped to look at rechargeable
bug zappers. She stepped away from her shopping cart to price out different
models and ponder the moral implications of wanton fly-zapping. After deciding
on a model endorsed by a presumably famous Japanese ping-pong player, “my
friend,” grabbed the cart and moved on to shampoos and conditioners.
It should be noted at this point in the story that
“my friend” had set her small, touristy, elephant-patterned purse- which held
her debit card, cell phone, Peace Corps passport, and about four thousand baht-
in the shopping cart. But Thailand is a safe place, no problem.
Pantene conditioner was on sale so I was…I mean “my
friend” was stocking up when she realized her purse was gone. Panic ensued.
Obviously some punk yao wa chon, youth,
nabbed it from the shopping cart while her mind was on zapping.
“Dammit, I’m just too nice, too trusting,” she was probably thinking. She felt
betrayed by a country that lulls you into a false sense of security. In that
moment of desperation- with no money, no passport, and no cell phone- she might
have even contemplated getting on the next plane metaphorically headed West and
never looking back.
Big C’s security guards tried to help her look for
the missing bag but she knew in her heart it was too late, “they’ve taken my
bag and there’s nothing here for me now.” A jao na-ti from
“my friend’s” office, who also happened to be shopping offered to join the
hunt; she suggested they call the missing cell phone.
When someone who was not a punk yao
wa chon answered the call, “my friend” tried to explain
that the thief could keep the four thousand baht if they would just return her
passport. Confused, the person on the other end of the call said, “I think you
have the wrong number.” Calling would have been a really good idea if the stress
hadn’t wiped her memory of her phone number and any Thai she knew.
From as far away as produce they came to watch the frantic
Farang
act out the verb, ‘to steal.” A crowd of no less than thirty Thai
gawkers had gathered when someone mentioned that they had seen an abandoned
shopping cart with a purse in it over by the- you guessed it- bug zappers. “Did the purse have elephants on it?” the jao
na-ti asked helpfully.
As a wave of relief came over, the Thai word came
back to her. “My friend” told me that she just kept repeating, “sabai
jai” over and over again. That and “kup kuhn kha” to
the people who’d helped her locate the missing articles. The Thailand were an
idiot can leave their unzipped, conspicuous elephant purse in an unaccompanied
shopping cart at a busy retail center and know that nothing will happen to it
was alive and well. “My friend” is lucky to be serving in such a place. Thailand,
no problem.
