The Underbelly of Suvarnabhumi Airport and Further Afield

9:45 a.m.

Think of everything you can conjure in your mind about being taken to the dungeon of the Thai Immigration Offices. I first must flashback to the incident that brought us to said underbelly of the Bangkok Airport. Arriving from Phnom Penh, Cambodia, waiting in the immigration line, my friend Heather realized she did not have her passport. Amazed at herself, she told me she was heading back to the gate to reboard the plane and get it. She was certain she left it there and started to head that way. I was encouraged by her confidence, and knowing we had to board a flight to Borneo in two hours, I suggested a meeting point for us at the baggage carousel. I proceeded past the check point entering Thailand and spent about 45 minutes arranging, rearranging and consolidating luggage for storage, waiting and waiting for Heather to arrive. Except...no Heather.

10:30 a.m.
Heading back to immigration, I got the heavy feeling I know all to well regarding dealing with “Thai” ways and the Asian need for 8 people to make one tiny little decision. Having visions of this happening to Heather at the gate (she having no previous Asia experience), panic started to set in as our flight time to Borneo began to tick away on the digital clocks above. Miraculously, (upon surrender of my own passport), the immigration supervisor allowed me back airside to go find her. Running through the airport in dread, I knew we were heading in to a long day. She wasn’t at the gate and wasn’t at the immigration point. I asked them to check the immigration manifest to see if she had entered the country which must have been a tall order, because it took 5 people at the immigration desk to decide if that was a feasible request to bring before the director.

11:00 a.m.
I gave up that ridiculousness and remembered that she had her cell phone on global roam. She answered with alarm in her voice, and we were able to coordinate and re-meet at a numbered immigration kiosk, me “officially” allowed into the Kingdom on the Thailand, and she, stuck in transit with no official documentation. Apparently, the airline officials wouldn’t allow her back on the plane to check it out. Heather is very kind and on the timid side in conflict so its understandable that she would back down. I, on the other hand, would have been relentless in my pursuit and probably would have ended up in the holding facility for people to which they refuse entry. . . like Viktor Novorsky.

Immigration granted me “un-entry” and allowed me BACK airside to accompany Heather in her quest for asylum. After much understandable confusion as rejects, we aimlessly wandered around waiting for Air Asia staff, in whose custody we were left. “Belonging” to Air Asia (a daunting outlook), we were understandably concerned, especially given Heather’s treatment regarding re-boarding. Visions of sleeping across uncomfortable armchair airport chairs and eating packets of ketchup were flashing before my eyes. Just as I was starting to panic, a well dressed, polo wearing, khaki’d, blond man approached us. He said he was the director of Air Asia Security and would be taking us from here. We urged him to try and locate the passport via radio and try to connect with the staff that manned the plane and its turn around. No one had seen the passport. Heather was very frustrated because she knew the passport was onboard the flight (now in transit to Vietnam).

11;15 a.m.
Continuing to make our way to the deep recesses of the underbelly, the security director escorting us through tunnel after tunnel, turn after turn, I startlingly realized, “Hey, he’s an American? What in the world? – it just so happens, he is married to a Thai woman and decided to come out of early retirement to help Air Asia with their security. I realized how lucky we were, because this could go much worse had we not had an advocate bearing our common citizenship. He escorted us into a room where people rushed about, shuffling papers, maintaining a constant state of readiness, doing their best to appease the “Don.” The Director of Immigration was everything you can possibly imagine about what you would find in such a place. The “Thai Don of Immigration” (as he will officially be remembered in my memories) sat behind a rather large desk, like a fat little Buddha with his subjects scurrying about hoping to appease him. I noticed, no one looked him directly in the eye, and as such, I followed suit. He only spoke Thai to the various Air Asia staff and didn’t acknowledge our presence. After he drafted a temporary Letter of Excusement for a direct trip to the U.S. Embassy, he sharply turned to me and asked, “What hotel in Bangkok you stay?” I sort of looked down and timidly said that we didn’t have a hotel because we were transit passengers to Kota Kinabalu. Again, he said, “What hotel in Bangkok YOU STAY !!.” I replied, “SIR, I don’t have a hotel.” And once again with fervor, “LADY, I ASK YOU, WHAT HOTEL IN BANGKOK YOU STAY !!!.” The American looked over at me pleadingly as if to telepathically suggest. “Say SOMETHING, just make something up!” I mentioned my usual hotel in the Sukhumvit district which seemed to appease the Don. Funny how far lies go. . . but if I’ve learned anything about Asia, its that you HAVE to FILL out the piece of PAPER. Everything in Asia has to have the piece of PAPER !!!

After another hour of paperwork and an official handoff, we were escorted to the Air Asia ticket counter to try and rebook our Kota Kinabalu ticket. We had already been in contact with the embassy which told us to come right away and they would issue a temporary passport which would grant Heather access to Malaysia without a visa. (the Sabah region of Borneo) This was the first good news we heard all day, But good news is usually short lived in immigration circles because we realized, it was the only flight that week (aside from a short Friday to Tuesday jaunt which would not be enough time in Borneo). We tabled that challenge and decided to head directly to the embassy to fight the battle there.

2:00 p.m.
Heading to the embassy was a feat unto itself. Apparently, the taxi’s do not know where the embassies are. Wireless Road is a bit too English sounding and not enough Thai to warrant paying attention to. Roundly about, we finally made it and I let Heather out to do her thing and I headed to the Manhattan Hotel to do my best to persuade them to give us a room, having already told us they were fully booked. Halfway down the street, stopped in traffic, I was startled by a running Heather opening the door and jumping BACK into the taxi. “CLOSED!!” the embassy is closed at 2:00 !! “WHAT”, I said, “They TOLD us to come.” Picking up my cell phone, calling the embassy, I got an operator and explained the situation. She put me on hold and got back on the line explaining that Heather should NOT have been refused and every American, no matter what time of day is legally granted asylum on the American soil of the embassy and that we should return. She said, she would call down to the guard and demand them to let Heather in. Turning back around, we dropped her off. At this point, we were in the 3:00 heat of the monster that is Bangkok traffic and the taxi driver cursed me heavily as I continued to change my mind about where I was going and how long it was taking. Not TWO seconds later, I received a phone call from Air Asia PROUDLY telling me that they had found the passport. Knowing what I know about Asia, I asked them to tell me the name on the passport and place of issue .. “Marie Burrow. California.” – (Marie being Heather’s middle name), . . .good enough for me.

3:10 p.m.
I called Heather and she found out about the same time from the American staffer at the passport window. “Good news Miss Burrow, Air Asia has recovered your passport from a flight that went to Hanoi and has returned to Bangkok.” I didn’t see the look on Heather’s face, but I’m sure it was the visual version of “duh.”. But, I’m pretty sure that was shortlived as the tears of relief started to fall.

I timidly told the taxi driver we were going to have to go BACK to the embassy to get Heather and he started yelling at me and pointing to the clock on his dashboard yelling at me in Thai and saying “TrAAFFic, TrAAFFic.” NO NO NO. I was afraid he was going to throw me out on Sukhumvit Road with all our luggage, so I just had Heather meet me at the Manhattan.

3:30 p.m.
Upon arrival, I prepared luggage once again for storage and started gearing up for heading back out of Bangkok, now that we were free (aside from a quick return trip we would have to make to the Don’s Laire for the official passport stamp). As I was packing in the lobby of the Manhattan hotel, I looked over to see the T.V. and to my total disbelief saw the scene in “The Terminal” where Viktor Novorsky (our comrade and kindred spirit) was translating for the goat farmer. I stared in amazement at the t.v. having already thought of Viktor Novorsky that day and remarked my usual. . . “I have no words” mantra. It was as if everything in the universe had come together to make fun of me. At this point, I was waiting for the man behind the curtain. All I could do was laugh and relive the laughter when heather walked in the front door of the hotel and I silently gestured to the t.v. We both just cracked up at the irony.

4:00 p.m.
Exhausted and spent, we headed back to the airport, bags packed for who knows where. We just figured, if we worked something out with Air Asia, we would just get on a plane for somewhere in their network of destinations. Heather returned to the Laire as I fought with Air Asia about rebooking and fees and penalties. I urged them to reconsider their penalties assessed to our tickets considering their staff was, to a great degree, also at fault due the negligence in recovering an American Passport (an extremely valuable commodity in the world). In fact, I mentioned that the Embassy had told us they were disappointed with how poorly the airlines had been handling such communications and that such holes in security were alarming for them and their views on the airline and the policies at the new airport (which apparently is a total mess). Well, apparently, this was enough of a threat to buy me a visit with the Air Asia supervisor who refunded all my penalties, allowed me to rebook a departing flight for Phuket and granted me a credit for the remainder of the original ticket price to use at my leisure. My Asia experience has finally paid off! - I must give myself some kudos for that one. Getting around policy in Asia is like squeezing guava juice from a mango.

5:00 p.m.
Still awaiting “official” arrival of Miss Heather Marie Burrow into the Kingdom of Thailand, I call her and she tells me she’s still in the Laire. I tell her, she better hurry up because she was on a 6:30 flight to Phuket and they needed to get going on her entry status. She finally made it and we checked in.

6:00 p.m.
Heading to board the 6:30 flight to Phuket. I’m assuming at this point, we will just head over to Koh Phi Phi in the next day or two I’d been in this area several times and was familiar enough with southern Thailand to plan a spur of the moment trip. Worn out, spent, in a bit of a fog having exhausted all energy on the day, we hoped our evening would look up. This, unfortunately was not in the cards.

9:30 p.m.
Having no idea we would be going to Phuket, we had no hotel booked or reservations whatsoever, which usually isn’t the end of the world since the lovely little kiosks at the airports are ready and willing to rip you off as soon as you set foot off the plane. After some scrutiny, we booked a room for two nights in Karon Beach, went outside for our taxi and headed out.

10:30 p.m.
Checking in, we were a little alarmed by the noise first, the smell second and the sheer concern for hygiene third. We agreed on the second room we saw and tried to settle in. It was needless to say, NOT a four, or three, or two star hotel. I won’t even go into it in DETAIL, but I will say this, they had the beds made “Euro-stye” which means there were no sheets on the bed. I called down for sheets knowing my body did not want immediate contact with that situation they claimed was a “bedspread,” and having no English speaking individuals at the entire hotel, I went downstairs to try to gesture our needs as best I could. They said that housekeeping was gone and we could not have sheets and that we would get some tomorrow. I’m very familiar with the runaround I get a lot over there, so I was firm and said I wanted sheets for our beds. He said no, and I asked to see another room. After 10 more minutes of negotiation, I was shown another room, where I proceeded to take the sheets off the beds and silently carry them to my room. I didn’t even flinch. I had had my fill. The Asian run around had NO more power over me. I had hit the wall.

9:00 a.m. (next day)
Attempting to check out of this “hotel” (which is a term I use quite loosely in this cat infested, unvaccumed floored shack of a building). We were told rather rudely that we pre-paid two nights and would not be allowed to check out. The rest of the story continues for the better part of the morning, into the afternoon, so I won’t go into it, but let me just say, it involves a trip to the Karon Beach Police Station. Needless to say, I eventually got my money back for one night as we checked out. The police were absolutely useless aside from the fact that they actually wore a uniform and carried a gun. AND, It wasn’t a TOTAL lie that got me out of another night in the meow motel, I DO actually know people at Lonely Planet !!!!

As I hopped on my rented motorbike and did my absolute best to stay on the right (wrong) side of the road, I thought to myself, well, it certainly could have been worse. I’ve had 24 hours of more challenge than I would have asked, but it without a doubt has provided some good memories. Heather and I are still laughing at that 24 hours. If only we had a cameraman following us. “What NOT to do in Southeast Asia.”

Exploring Phuket by moto was quite fun. I’ve never explored this part of Thailand this way and we thoroughly enjoyed it. We hit an orchid farm which grew the most beautiful orchids I’ve ever seen. We saw an abalone restaurant on the map and decided to venture out that direction which proved to be quite fun. I think most of the fun itself was just trying to stay on the right side of the road while trying to navigate the heavy traffic and cliffs on our left side. It was so much fun !! My parents would probably say otherwise ! My dad was at least pleased with my choice of helmet. I felt like an old man with a bowl haircut. One of my most memorable and fun days in the tropics.

So Koh Phi Phi ended up being fine. I missed the idea of Borneo for the first day, but I tried to soak in the idea of just lounging for a week. That took about 2 hours to take and I soon became a rather lazy individual. A typical day consisted of sleeping in, eating breakfast, reading and laying by the pool, hitting Ton Sai village during the heat of the day – where I would usually sit on the deck of D’s Books and email. We did some kayaking and I did a little climbing. Thai massage was usually factored in by the afternoon. Dinner, more reading and bedtime. Aaaah, vacation – sun, activity and lounging.