Lay-o, Lay-o, Faster, Faster

I took the transit system yesterday for the first time. No one tells you how to get from Point A to Point B; they just tell you that it's easy. "Easy" is relative when you have no idea what you're doing. 

I had just looked at two apartments in Phrom Pong, and now needed to sign the paperwork. To accomplish this I had to get to the agent’s office in Thong Lo, about 10 minutes away with normal traffic. On Friday afternoon at 4pm in Bangkok, that might as well be 45 minutes. As my agent had an appointment at 4pm and was already late, he wanted to ensure that I got to the office okay and the fastest way to get there: motorbike taxi.

I had been warned to avoid this mode of transportation for fear of imminent death and now I was climbing on the back of one. I have to admit that the thrill of jetting through immovable traffic was as appealing as it was thrilling, but the reality of it was much scarier.

I’ve seen woman casually sitting side saddle while they text as well as men talking on their cell phones and two thoughts have gone through my head. One, “It mustn’t be as bad as people have been telling me” and, “Well they’re Thai, so they’re used to it.” The latter is true. You must also never tell the driver, “Lay-o, lay-o. Faster, faster,” unless you have a death wish. That is exactly what my real estate agent said as he smiled broadly and asked me if I was ready to go for a ride. Not wanting to appear like a wimp, I smiled and jumped on while I squelched my rising panic.

It is difficult to fully understand the game of chicken until you're in the opposing lane of traffic and your impending death is racing at you from the opposite direction until at the last minute, you swerve into stopped traffic and squeeze between cars. I suddenly wondered if my legs were too big and my shoulders too broad as we missed side view mirrors and bumpers by mere millimeters. Then we’d stop suddenly because the gap between a truck and a taxi would be too narrow to pass through. 

Also, telling the driver that this is my first time is not recommended. The bike immediately began jerking left and right as we wound our way through traffic. It’s like driving down the road and deciding to swerve left and right to see how quickly you can break the person sitting next to you.

My heart was in my stomach. Then the light would turn and we’d suddenly be taking a hard left as I would feel my body sliding off the seat. The only time I enjoyed myself was when we turned onto a no-traffic road and sped at top speed straight ahead but then I reminded myself that I wasn’t wearing a helmet and he was and the joy froze.

Jump forward fifteen minutes and I had met William, the very attractive British agent I had spoken to on the phone a few days prior, handed over the holding deposit and signed a temporary contract. The condo was mine. I would move in November 1^st. Now to figure out how to get to the closest metro station and less importantly, figure out what I was going to do for the five days between the end of my current contract and when I could move in and still have money left over for important things like food. I have three weeks to figure that out however, so I have pushed it aside for now.

My next step after leaving the agent’s office was to get back to a BTS (sky train) or MRT (subway) stop. After being refused a ride from a taxi driver who didn’t want to drive me anywhere, I briefly considered the idea of hopping on another motorbike taxi. When my heart sank into my stomach, I decided not to. 

I eventually caught a taxi and as soon as I recognized where I was, I hopped out, weaved through clogged traffic and made my way up the stairs to the sky train. Thank goodness I'm blessed with a good sense of direction and that I remember where things are after just one time. 

I kept an eye out for places to buy a ticket and when I saw people standing in lines, I walked up to the front and watched people purchase tickets. I then got in a line that moved quickly and looked for my stop, Asok, on the map. Seeing it, I pushed the button with the number 38 on it and the machine told me how much to pay. After putting in the coins, I took the ticket and saw that the system of going through the turnstiles was just like America. 

Once through, I looked on a map to make sure I was going the right way and walked up the stairs to the platform. A few minutes later, the train arrived and I got on and looked above the doorway at another map. One stop. Good.

After I got off the train, I followed the crowd to the stairs and then looked for signs for the MRT. What I forgot to do however was keep my ticket out, as I needed it to go back through the turnstiles in order to exit. Getting out of line was tricky as there were hoards of people but once I took my ticket out of my bag, I was able to exit. From there, I followed the signs to the MRT, crossed a road and re-entered the subway on the other side.

After a few escalators down I saw multiple lines and picked one before realizing that I didn’t have a subway card and had to get into another line to purchase one. I didn’t actually get a ticket however. I received a plastic coin the size of a quarter. Following the crowd, I did as they did and scanned the coin before going through the turnstile. I went down another flight of stairs and looked at the signs to see what side I needed to stand on. For good measure, I asked an attendant. One stop later I was exiting the sardine packed train with my nose pushed up to the wall of an ad for the university I work for, how ironic.

Less than five minutes later I was breathing normally and casually chatting with my friend who met me on the corner outside the station.