After Saturday night’s Loi Ga Thong adventure, I had mixed feelings about venturing back in to town for the boat racing on Sunday. I hated to be the kind of expat who sits in her comfy air-conditioned house, cut off from the culture of her host country. That was me at this time last year. But I also hated the thought of fighting the crowds for a glimpse of the river, even though I knew a few ladies who would be competing.
Around 7 a.m. Tony and I rode into town for breakfast. After eating, we tentatively walked toward the river and found it relatively deserted so early in the morning. We discovered the tiered concrete observation area, where people were just beginning to gather. We watched a few races, unsure if they were officially part of the competition or merely warming up for the real events. I decided I had fulfilled my vow to watch the races in person and happily headed home before the crowds got unnerving.
Back at the house, I turned on the computer to upload photos and do a little blogging. I figured I should also print off our e-tickets and hotel reservation for our trip to Phuket, Thailand, the next day.
When I opened the email with our hotel reservation, I looked at the check-in date and then looked at today’s date on my laptop. They were the same. That meant our flight was today. TODAY. Panic set in. Deep inhale. Deep exhale. I frantically looked for our e-ticket. Anxiety made me stupid, and our slow internet connection only exacerbated my desperation. Did I make the reservation through my Yahoo account or my school email account? I toggled back and forth between the two tabs, tapping my finger on the table uncontrollably as the blue bar crept slowly across the screen indicating the pages might open eventually.
When I finally found the e-ticket, I froze. I had been certain that we were flying on Monday, but the e-ticket showed our flight was at 4:55 p.m. Sunday. Again, TODAY. That wouldn’t be such a big deal if we were flying from Vientiane, but I had saved big bucks by booking our ticket out of Udon Thani, Thailand. The Friendship Bridge to Thailand is just 19 kilometers from our house, and Udon Thani is only one hour from there. Kham, a kind Lao guy who works in the IT Department at school, had agreed to drive us there TOMORROW.
Tony came down the stairs just as I was processing the realization that we had to leave ASAP. He turned right around and went upstairs to pack. I alternated between calm problem-solving mode and absolute panic.
I tried to call Kham but got no answer. I then called another teacher for suggestions and found out that we could catch an airport taxi at the bridge, but first we had to GET to the bridge. I ran outside and scanned the street, but there were none of the usual parked tuk-tuks. I found a card for a driver who had taken me to the Vientiane airport in the past. He said he was unavailable, but his friend could drive us to the Udon Thani airport for 2,500 Thai Baht, almost $100. What else could I do? So I arranged for him to pick us up in 20 minutes.
I ran around the house like a maniac, shoving armfuls of underwear in a duffel, putting dirty dishes in the sink, hanging wet laundry on the line, standing dumbly in the bathroom with no memory of how to pack a toiletry bag. I accomplished very little.
Finally, Kham returned my call. “I’m such an idiot!” I cried. “Our flight is today, not tomorrow!”
“It’s OK,” he said. “I’m free. I can be there in 30 minutes.” Is he awesome, or what? I called to cancel the taxi and then tried to calm down enough to pack. I didn’t really succeed in getting calm, but I did manage to pack with some sense of logic.
Tony and I both felt terribly uncomfortable asking Kham for a ride in the first place. He’s a lovely guy, but we don’t know him very well. I have met his Thai wife, and I knew they frequently crossed the border to Udon Thani, her hometown. So I had said to Kham, “IF you’re going to Udon ANYWAY on Monday, can we catch a ride to the airport?” I emphasized that I didn’t want him to make a special trip for us, but he insisted that it wouldn’t be a problem. And now here we were, asking him to drop everything and take us on short notice.
Nearly an hour passed, and there was still no sight of Kham. When I called him, he confirmed what we had suspected. The festival had created a traffic nightmare. By now, there was no guarantee we would make it to the airport on time. We couldn’t predict how long it would take to cross the border. I’ve gotten through in a few minutes on my bike, but I’ve also waited for two hours when I rode in a van with other teachers.
Fortunately, Kham was an old hand at the border and even knew many of the immigration officials on both sides of the bridge. We had to stop twice – leaving Laos and entering Thailand – but both times, he pulled right up to the front of the line, took our passports and paperwork and returned shortly with the stamps. He could sense my anxiety, and he kept saying, “There is a lot of time. Don’t worry!”
Sure enough, we made it to Udon Thani with time for a quick lunch at McDonald’s. He dropped us at the airport and even came in to make sure everything was OK. It was. And it still is. Thanks to Kham, we are in paradise for the next few days, and we can relax at last.
