2006, Day One: Recovery

I always loved (still do) the way Star Trek began with Captain Kirk saying, in a dispassionate yet earnest voice, something like, "Captain's log, stardate 6002.0. I have underestimated the power of a stiff Sangsom and Coke: toxic, potent, heavy... duty. We have all succumbed... to the... incredible, ferocious... and... inebriating forces of Thai... whiskey". And in faster, clipped -- more dramatic -- diction, "Today, we shall pay the price."

That's what Captain Kirk would say if he were me and he awoke, as I did, with a dull throbbing in his head, a scratch under his right eye, and exoskeletal matter in between his teeth.

I did eat the cockroach on New Year's Eve and I'm happy that it happened after enough alcohol was consumed to keep the memory of it blurry and fuzzy, like a dream. I have video evidence and as all videos of one's self are, it doesn't seem like it's "real". I mean, I remember doing it, yes I do. I remember sticking the huge, shiny, brown vermin in between my teeth for a photo. I remember tearing the legs and wings off the roach after that -- no need to mess about with the legs and wings -- John and I agreed that we would also tear off the head. Even with the removal of all those bits (should I call them bits? They were huge, afterall...) Even with the removal of all that stuff so necessary in life : legs, head... so necessary in life but no longer so when you've become a midnight snack. The roach was still gigantic, at least 3 inches in length. And when I tore off the head, I was so glad we decided to do so because it would have broken a tooth. The part of the roach where the head connects to the body is as strong as a nail - hard - almost unbreakable. I tossed the head into the gutter, 'toasted' John with my roach/snack, and then... down the hatch. It was chewy. I gagged. It was tough. I gagged again. But I got it down and throughout the night, I found bits of hard stuff, roach pieces, in my mouth -- you know how popcorn kernels get stuck in your teeth? It was like that, but more disturbing.

After that, a Thai woman stuck a grasshopper in my mouth. But that was nothing. That skinny little grasshopper... that vegetarian of an insect. That was nothing compared to eating an arthropod the dictionary describes as a 'scavenger', a 'pest', a 'beetle-like insect with long antennae and legs'.

In 2006, within the first hour, I achieved greatness in this way: the kind of greatness that comes with having done something out of the ordinary, something requiring guts (even if it means the ingestion of guts); the kind of greatness that comes with doing something repulsive and foul -- in short, the kind of greatness that 4th grade boys would honor and respect. I am their queen.

A friend suggested that perhaps the eating of a roach would somehow, in some twisted way of thinking and logic, put an end to the spate of bad luck I have written about in the past month or two. In a primitive and barbaric way, I would gain power from the roach: dominance over the bad things that happen like motorbike crashes and dog bites and visitation by ghosts. Like savages who eat the hearts of their battle victims, I would take on the powers of the roach: tough, formidable, able to survive anything, including nuclear attack. But it's not so. Later that night, I was a victim (as was Benjamin, John, and Nyla) of a bar fight; an unprovoked attack by a gang of English hooligans who complained that we were taking too long to play our game of pool. This is where Captain Kirk, in his opening remarks, would recount the story behind the scratch under his right eye.

We were coaxed into a bar with the promise of '2 for 1' drinks. It was late, 2:00 a.m. -- or should I say it was early? We entered the bar, ordered 4 beers, and debated the price with the bartender. It was not '2 for 1' except for a certain selection of drinks, and I'm pretty sure the list of those is determined after you've placed your order; a changing list, devised at whim, based upon things not ordered and not-to-be ordered. This is how it is, the way it goes -- I've gotten used to it. When you travel, especially in Asia, information does not play by the rules of science: physical properties (such as time, description of services, and -- in this case -- price) constantly change; information is flexible and unstable.

So we have our drinks and we decide to play a game of pool. There's one other pool table in the bar and its occupied by 4 Europeans (note that I do not wish to list the entire EU so will, to the consternation of a certain British girl, use the generalized term for people of that continent). Over in the corner by the door, a table of people... people I hadn't noticed before, seethe and simmer. They claim they'd been waiting for our pool table for an hour and are pissed that now they must sit through what looks-to-be an interminably long pool game played by incompetents.

We relate to them the story of our arrival: the pool table was empty, sitting there all alone under the illumination of billiard lights... no-one playing, no-one waiting to play, no-one even thinking about playing. In the time it took us to sort out the price of our '2 for 1' drinks with the barkeep, they certainly could have claimed the table if, in fact, they'd wanted it. There was no-one else around -- no-one in the bar but the 4 Europeans already playing. How could they have been waiting for the table for an hour, in an empty bar? And supposing the place was packed and had emptied entirely, just before we arrived, how come they didn't take the table in all the time -- 10 minutes -- it took us to even consider getting started? It was bull shit. They were just looking for tension.

It was a Thai girl who started the whole argument, unusual in that Thai people (women especially) aren't generally aggressive -- Thai people, like many Asians, don't express emotion or even argue in public (or private)... Perhaps it's all the 'bottling up' of aggravation and frustration and anger that got this girl going. Once a Thai let's it go, puts the concept of 'face' to the side, they can be violent. They'll kick the shit out of you -- years of pent up emotions do that to people -- it's kind of like 'going postal'. But its unusual. For some reason, this girl was hanging out with a bunch of British fucks, the type who get into fights all the time back home... not just soccer-hooligan-mother-f'ers... but people who fight for fun. One of them was almost 7 feet tall. He took a swing at Benjamin for no reason. They approached us angrily, unprovoked by nothing more than our inept and lengthy pool playing and started throwing punches. The giant guy was so tall that his punches were almost inconsequential, almost completely clearing the top of Benjamin's head...

After the first punch was thrown, everything gets chaotic and nothing makes sense. "What the fuck is happening?" the question streaked through my mind in terror and disbelief. I couldn't believe people could be so stupid as they -- but it doesn't make sense to try understanding low-lifes who get their kicks out of... well, kicking people.

Benjamin is on the ground now and there must be at least 10 of these fuckers. I use my pool cue as a lance: poking, jabbing, daring the fuckers to come closer. They do, so I use it as a shield, a barricade... staving off a group of sneering, raging... someone has climbed onto the table and taken my pool cue away. I turn around. Benjamin is covered with people as if he were a crumb at a picnic laid out on an anthill. I see the Thai bitch going for his eyes. She is trying to claw out his eyes. I cannot even see Benjamin with all the people on top of him. I must be yelling... "What the f--..." I punch the back of her head. Holy shit, I've never hit anyone before in my life... I put my arm around her neck from behind her back... I squeeze at my elbow and lift her up... just like Uma Thurman in 'Kill Bill' (volume 1)... I want to squeeze the evil air out of her throat and leave her gasping in the gutter... like the roach head... I want to snap her head off and toss it into the gutter where it belongs. Someone behind me strikes my spine with the pool cue or was it their fist? It hurts... the wind is knocked out of me... I can't believe someone did that, the mother.... people are piled on top of each other... suddenly we are walking to the door... how did Benjamin get up and away from the mob? Someone must have come to help us... they came to even the numbers out so they're fair... now we are close to the exit and I am really pissed... the giant 7-foot asshole is there, trying to get in more punches as we leave... fucker! I grab his crotch... I will squeeze his testicles until they pop... but wait, there's nothing there... I keep trying... reaching in between people who seem to be blocking them from us... I keep trying -- who cares if I'm jostled and elbowed and hit in the head... I want to make this jerk pay... but... I'm out the door... on the sidewalk... we're all outside now and they're all inside... we're safe but angry... no-one cares.... "Hey you, are you the owner? What the fuck kind of place is this?" we yell... He ignores us. Ignores us! The bastard. He doesn't care. He doesn't care that we are the victims and he's favoring the perpetrators. We look for police. There are no police. We ask other people to call the police. No-one will call the police. They tell us the police will not care. They won't come.

So that was it. We went home shortly thereafter. I promised to smear the name of the bar where the owners don't care about people victimized and attacked on their premises. I know the English thugs who attacked us are the ones who are really to blame, but they are probably on their way back to their blue collar jobs in English slums, dreaming of future fights at pubs in their own neighborhood. Apparently, in Thailand, problems with violence are all due to foreigners, not Thais. A sad state of affairs...

The bar: Sharkey's (or Sharky's or Sharkies)... on Moon Muang Road, Chiang Mai.

It's time to wrap this thing up... there was harsh language used... there was violence... there was scary content for parental eyes. I apologize. We are fine so don't worry mom(s) and dad(s). And though it may sound tactless, at least our new year, 2006, got off with a 'bang' -- and as I said to Benjamin when we got home that night, the worst part about the whole thing is that my moment of greatness, the eating of the roach, was overshadowed by the brawl. This feat, this moment of ultimate distinction, was lost in the shuffle of feet and swinging of fists.