November 2001, San Diego and Thailand

By K. Ray Macias

School days, work nights. I’ve gotten into the routine. Six classes, 30 hours of work. It’s my sixth and final year in school. Five weeks from now, I’ll have my degree and be done with school forever, ready to start the real life.

I was putting on my work shirt outside the restaurant when the phone rang.

The call was from Craig, my roommate. This is strange, I thought. Why would he be calling? He took off earlier in the morning and should be on a plane now bound for Bangkok. Whatever the reason for the call it must be important. I answered it.

“What up?” I asked. “Not left yet?”

“Delayed 45 minutes,” he said.

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“So…?” I asked.

After a hesitation, he said, “Jason had to back out of the trip.” He paused. “There’s an open spot. It’d be perfect if you could come.”

He was right, it would be perfect if I could go. But realistically, definitely not. I told him I couldn’t make it on two months’ notice, let alone one day’s, thanks for the call, be safe, see you in a couple weeks. I hung up the phone and smiled, thinking, what if I just dropped everything? No hesitation: ditch the tests, don’t show up for work, and be in Bangkok tomorrow. Live for the moment, consummate my nomadic lust.

I looked at my watch, already two minutes late to work. I run and clock in. So much for spontaneity.

My waiter’s apron was on and I was getting ready for another night of work. My cell rang. Shit, I didn’t turn off my ringer. I couldn’t make it stop. It kept ringing. I hoped the manager didn’t hear. I finally answered the phone.

It was Craig again. All thoughts of a wanderer’s life had quickly been replaced by the soup of the day, seafood gumbo.

I bent down and covered my face, whispering, “I’m at work, what’s up?”

He wasn’t whispering. “I just talked to the agent, she has a ticket ready for you.” He paused. “You can leave the day after tomorrow.”

It would give me enough time. One day is not enough, but in two days, I may be able to get the shifts covered and….

I came back to reality.

“There’s no way,” I said. “Even if I can get all shifts covered and can make up both tests, I still don’t have any money.” Realizing that I’m now thinking of the possibility, I use money as a defense.

“How much do you have?” he asked.

“Around $500,” I threw out a random number.

“That’s plenty. We’re going to Thailand, remember?”

Can I afford it?

He sensed what I was thinking. “You only need a few bucks a day.”

Thailand is cheap. I can afford it. The money issue didn’t work.

“In 10 years, what are you going to remember: the scores you got on the test, the money you made at work, or the trip of a lifetime?”

Why did he have to call me out on that? In 10 years am I going to look back at this and wonder what if? What if I went?

“I really want to go, it’s just not possible,” I said.

“Try to get your shifts covered, ask the teachers if you can make up the tests.” He was coaching me.

“I’ll try,” I said, trying to get him off the phone, with no intention of going.

The trip was never a good idea. In fact it was stupid to have this conversation. A few months ago he tried talking me into this trip. Then I couldn’t justify it, why would it even be a consideration now?

He took my words differently, getting excited and louder, thinking that he’s convinced me. “I have the flight info.” His voice rose. “See you at the airport.”

He really thinks I’m going? “Seriously, I’m not going to….” I was cut off.

“E-mail me, flight’s leaving, see you in Thailand…” The boys chimed up in the background. “Whoohoo,” I heard them cheering in unison. Then the phone went silent.

I’m not going, am I? What the hell just happened?

I hung up and stood quietly, staring at the floor. Thoughts raced through my head: Am I really going to Thailand? I can’t really go, can I? That sonofabitch had to get the last words in. The hostess came by and said that I had three tables waiting for me. I ran over to take their drink orders.

The next day I woke up and went to school like every other day. The boys were in Thailand having a great time, and I was in San Diego. They’d come back, tell me their stories, and I’d get jealous, but know I made the right decision.

Bored and paying little attention to Professor Johnson’s lecture on Chilean media systems, the thought of Thailand crept into my head again. Aside from the two minute phone call the night before, the trip was never a realistic possibility. Yet the idea still lingered in my mind: quitting work and school may be a very bad idea, but what if I could make up the tests?

Feeling the need for a little adventure in my life, I decided to take a gamble. I was going to ask the professor if I could make up my test.

After rehearsing for the final time what I would say, I packed my bag as slowly as possible, took a deep breath, and strolled up to the professor, hoping all students would clear out of the room before I made it up. The closer I got the more nervous I became, but I was on my way. I was going to ask.

Professor Johnson’s an intimidating man. Nearly a foot taller than I, with shoulders twice as wide, he’s a man at the end of his career, with a wealth of knowledge, demanding respect. He’s also the head of the department from which I hoped to graduate. This was, from what I remember, the first time I had ever approached him. It was not easy.

As I walked, he was gathering his papers. He noticed me coming toward him, lifted his head and stared into my eyes, giving no expression as he waited for me to speak.

After looking him back in the eyes and taking a breath, I blurted my practiced lines.

“Hi professor. I have a chance to go to Thailand tomorrow. Spur of the moment. I’d be gone for 10 days. I know I’ll miss the test if I go. The test is very important to me, but if you’d let me make up it up, then I’d like to take this opportunity and go.”

Perfect, exactly as I rehearsed.

He looked at me, puzzled. What was he thinking? My heart beat faster, not knowing if this proposal would hurt my chances of graduating.

He held a long, dramatic pause, thinking over his response before saying with little expression, “That’d be a great experience, more people should travel.” He nodded, looked down at his papers and for the first time all semester, I saw him smile. He continued. “Talk to me about the test when you get back.”

I can go?

Shocked by how easy that was and at what the immediate future may hold, I started walking out of class, my head down, my eyes locked wide-open, staring at the floor. He replied, “Oh, and you’ll have to tell me about the trip, I love Thailand.” He smiled to himself as if he were being taken back to a different time in his life, to a better place.

Fate committed me to going. There’s no way I would walk back into that class and have to explain to Prof. Johnson why I didn’t go.

There was another teacher to confront and another test to postpone.

However, Mrs. Smith was more of a friend than an authority figure, and I was the only senior in her freshman class. Like Prof. Johnson she, too, blessed the trip.

That evening I asked my friends at work to help cover for me while I was gone. They fought for the available shifts. I thanked them for the favor, knowing that it was I who was helping them by giving them more work.

With the tests postponed and shifts covered, I went home to get ready for the trip. Proud of myself for making this happen and a little scared because it was so easy.

I grabbed plastic shopping bags out of the kitchen and stuffed my clothes into two of them. A suitcase was too big and I didn’t have a rucksack; I planned to buy one in Thailand. I then searched for my small travel bag. Similar in size to a waist pack, it contained all of my travel necessities.

I looked everywhere for it: my desk, closet, under the bed, in the trunk of my car and anywhere else I might keep my things. I couldn’t find it. I remembered why. The bag was at home, five hours away.

After dealing with Craig and Mr. Johnson, I now had my most feared opponent ahead. The final hurdle not yet cleared, I picked up the phone.

“Mom, do you know where my travel bag is?” I asked sheepishly, not yet divulging the reason for the call.

She responded, “Ya, what for?”

“I need my passport,” I said softly, “I’m … going to Thailand.”

“Really,” she was surprised. “When? How? With whom? That’s so scary.” She blurted out all of her thoughts, not ready for what was coming next.

“I’m going tomorrow,” I told her, ready for what was coming next.

“What!” she yelled. I jumped. She then rhythmically mumbled uncontrollably, “No, no no no no…. No!”

I thought over my plan of attack.

This was the first time she heard of the trip. Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have told her about the trip, not until I was at the airport, maybe not until the trip was over. This time the trip was in her hands.

I calmed her down and explained the situation. I assured her that I wouldn’t be kicked out of school or kidnapped by any terrorists. She didn’t believe me. I’m sure my mother has never been more scared in her life.

She did her best and put up a good fight, but at this point, my mind was made up. I was going to be in Thailand tomorrow.

After an hour of her pleas and nos, she understood what the outcome would be. She finally gave in.

Later in the evening she called me back to say that she had arranged for a delivery of my passport. I would meet her friend on his UPS route tomorrow afternoon, get my passport, and continue on my way to LAX.

The decision was made.

Is this the right thing to do? It doesn’t matter now. Will I regret it? Hopefully not. Am I being grown-up and responsible? I don’t think so. Am I an adventurer? Yes, I am.

I sent an e-mail to Craig, letting him know I’d be coming and hoping to get a comforting response before I left.

I didn’t hear back from him. The boys either hadn’t found a computer or had completely forgotten about me. Do they know I’m coming? I was starting to believe that I may be stuck alone in Bangkok, and wasn’t sure if I was ready for that much of an adventure. Remembering the state of the world and what had happened just two months prior in September, I got on the plane anyway.

We took off and landed. The plane was safe. But that didn’t settle all of my fears. I was now alone in an unknown country, didn’t speak the language, and had no money or friends. I left customs and walked into the main area of the Bangkok International Airport, hoping to see familiar faces. I didn’t.

An hour later I was still alone. I checked my e-mail: no message. Not knowing what to do next, I thought about my options: wait it out here at the airport, go into central Bangkok and look for the guys, or jump on a plane and head home, forgetting any of this happened.

The rush of the last few days was wearing on me. I picked up my bags and headed to the conveyor-belt sushi lounge to get some food. As I was entering, I heard a group of boys outside the glass window. Their brash behavior let me know they were Westerners, and their faces let me know I would not be alone. Craig was leading with a grin smeared across his face, happy I was there, excited about the trip and knowing that he won. The boys were behind him. I knew I was in for an adventure.

We jumped on a plane a few hours later and flew to a popular island named Ko Samui. I was still hesitant about the trip. As the plane descended I looked out the window. What I saw ended any debate. Blues and greens brighter than any I’d ever seen. Palms and jungle. This is what I’d imagined Paradise to be like, I just never thought I’d be here.

The trip was amazing, full of memorable experiences and stories that I can recount as if they were yesterday. Close bonds and new friends, beaches, buddhas, bungalows, motos, pad Thai noodles, Singha, tuk-tuks, travelers, and full-moons.

One night, as our friends were busy sleeping or doing whatever else one may do in Thailand, Craig and I sat on the water, just outside our $3 bungalows, and watched the sunset. Usually full of energy, hyper like a little kid, tonight he was subdued and quiet. He had something on his mind.

Craig and I had met through a roommate posting board when I first moved to San Diego, and we eventually became good friends. Although he was a little older than I, we were of a similar minds, both curious about the unknown and hesitant to accept the ideals we’d been fed. He was already out of school and holding down a “regular job” that was very unsatisfying, both to the mind and the wallet.

After a long stretch of silence, he asked, “What are you going to do once you finish school?”

I thought about my future, the one that was so obvious a week before. Take a two week trip and start applying for jobs? Plans change.

The feeling of being free and unbound by conventional norms and routines was exhilarating. I wanted to see more. In due time I answered his question. “I hope to travel.”

Craig simply confirmed his intentions. “Me, too,” was all he said. We then sat quietly for a while longer, both of us contemplating the possibilities.

The next day as I stumbled out of the cabin, allowing the heat and mosquitoes to have their room back, I saw Craig sitting alone by the water and joined him for our morning story session, reliving the previous night’s glories and downfalls. I had breakfast and enjoyed the morning, sitting quietly, taking in life.

A while later he broke me from my trance, asking me if I was serious about the previous night’s conversation about traveling. I wasn’t thinking about real life and hadn’t put much thought into the idea since the new day started, but I said that I was.

Throughout the day his demeanor was different; he was lethargic and more quiet than usual, following the group instead of leading it. Later in the evening, he pulled me aside to tell me what was on his mind.

“I’m not going to return to work,” he said solemnly.

He got my attention, but I was far from surprised.

I asked, “What do you plan to do?”

“I wanna quit my job.” He paused before continuing, “Stay here until money runs out.”

We were both quiet, not sure what this meant, but knowing it meant something.

He then said to me, or maybe it was a question, “When you are finished with school, we can take off.”

“Where can we go?” I asked, not waiting for him to finish. I was ready.

“Anywhere,” was all he said.

He was right. We could go anywhere.

The magic of Thailand, of traveling, had permeated my body and was running through my blood. My mind was working on a different level, intrigued by this old world that I’d been living in and intoxicated by this new world that I had just discovered. I loved it. The planet became real and tangible, not just a hollow globe sitting on a desk or a flat map on a classroom wall. It became an adventure park, a place to play, to learn about. Most importantly, the world was a place to learn from, teaching life from experience.

Thailand was the first. The first fling, the first kiss, the first time I tasted the sweet joy of freedom, of adventure. The first time I lusted after a country. The first time I traveled.

K. Ray Macias is back in California after a few years of traveling in Central America and Asia.

 

Posted by Elizabeth Armstrong Moore on Thursday, April 19th, 2007 | Email This Post

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