Koh Samui Travel Blog› entry 14 of 30 › view all entries
A weekend of R&R.
@ Q Bar.
Watching the upper class party.
Glenmorangie Scotch on ice.
My host, a major developer with all the right connections.
The scene is refined, the company excellent.
Relaxing, feeling the scotch numb my senses.
A sense of relief – 5 x 7 day weeks draining from me.
Then my phone rings. I curse under my breath. I knew I should have left it turned it off.
I answer against my better judgement.
The deal is up for negotiation.
Oh fuck. Here we go again….
*tick tock* The clock starts running.
I motion to my inebriated host – ‘Lets go back, now’.
I bundle him into the car. He is glassy eyed with the keys. Better get that seatbelt.
Now he’s all over the backstreets of Samui. On the wrong side of the road.
I fatalistically sit there, quite relaxed as the scotch does its work. I watch as he almost hits a bike.
Grinning to myself – just another car ride in Asia.
My camera sits, unused yet again, on the seat beside me.
I arrive at the hotel. Say goodbye, lock myself in my room.
I watch time crawl as I work. I wonder if this document makes sense? The words seem to be moving...
Writing, changing flights, emailing appointment requests... drinking.
I call for a wakeup – but this is Thailand and everyone sleeps.
Cursing under my breath yet again, I realise my alarm clock function on my phone just died. SNAFU.
So I meditate for 2 hours on my bed, fully clothed, with one eye open on the clock.
5.30am. I’m up before I’m awake.
Laptop open, emails downloaded, confirming appointments, emailing contracts.
One hand stays on the keyboard as I stuff my suitcase. I'm a mess.
I put the phone on speaker and multitask in the shower. Yelling through falling water and steam, transport is organised.
The hotel car waits for me as I make my way to the lobby, still dripping. My shirt is soaked.
The race to airport begins just as the monsoonal rains hit. My suitcase is soaked. I'm grinning now... at least everyone else is as wet as I am.
The plane takes off. The seatbelt sign fades with the turbulence.
I work through the flight, wolfing coffee.
Hong Kong. Disembark.
Check bags through to Shanghai.
Get boarding pass and go through transit security.
One line is too slow, I jump queues.
The line slows again, so I switch again.
I grin at the frowns. I get frequent flyer asshole points. Bite me.
I sprint through the airport to get the first flight to Shanghai.
I make it 5 minutes to gate closure.
Takeoff. Dragon Air to them. Just another tin can to me.
Laptop open, I finish the contract while eating on my tiny table.
Stirfry sauce falls on the keyboard. I keep typing until my fingers stick to the keypad.
Aaaah. My first meal today. I knew I forgot something…
I leave the sauce on the keys. Thats my definition of saving some for later *lol*
Thud. Welcome to the Shang-bang.
Do the China thing – get up and scramble for my carry on luggage.
…then wobble into my fellow passengers as the plane grinds to a halt.
Call from the plane – the meeting is set for tomorrow AM.
Call again – a teleconference is set at my hotel in 40 minutes.
I check the clock. Countdown t-40. Gotta MOVE.
I race for my luggage.
Clear customs, my forms are at the ready.
Double pace into the arrivals hall.
A sea of irrelevant faces give me the once over.
I make a beeline through them for the cab rank, dodging hustlers.
Jumping the cab queue, I score frequent cabbie asshole points. Bite me twice.
I receive the fist in response, I give the finger as my right of reply.
Passing the address card to driver, he grunts in acknowledgement through a mouth full of imaginary marble.
I tell him to go fast. He doesn’t understand. So I point at 160km/h on his dash and leave 100rmb in his lap. He understands. The cab rockets out of the airport at warp speed.
I reach for the seatbelt and grab air. No seatbelts. I shrug to myself. Two asian car rides in 24 hours. I'm relaxed. I've come to terms with the fact that there is no difference between a fatal crash at 100km/h or 160km/h in a car that passes no safety standards.
The breakneck speed blurs the city streets. The cab’s chassis can’t take it… the engine vibrations make it hard to see the laptop screen.
I call ahead. The porter is ready.
The cab grinds to a halt… and my sauce stained laptop falls off my knees onto the floor. Its still good. I grab it by the screen and go…
Leaving the porter with the cab and my bags, I enter the hotel.
Reception has my key ready. They know me. I was here 4 days ago.
Straight to my room, my phone is in hand.
Teleconference – only 2 minutes late. Acceptable.
The negotiation is set for tomorrow. I’m going in alone.
The night fades as I prepare.
Lets do this.
3 airports, 3 cities, less than 2 days.