Sunday Strip

Mistaken Identity

So the hitman approached us on his motorcycle last night on the side road off of the main strip. Now he did have a helmet on, but both his motorcycle (as opposed to the more common less cc motorbike) and his features are distinctive to me. He’s a brawler, both taller and fatter than usual for the natives in these parts, but with a clear Southern Thai local signature. I’m going to guess he’s about 5 foot 10 and 220 pounds (178/100 for my metric system friends). He had a well heeled Thai woman riding sidesaddle on his motorcycle and staring impassively at her phone as he spoke. Whether she and him had had a conversation about us is unknown to me. But I knew immediately that he wanted to clear the air.

“So sorry madam.” The hitman said to me. “This your husband you?”

“Yes! This my husband me! Fan Yu!” Ka approached me and put his arm around my waist while kissing me on the cheek.

“Yes she my wife she.” Ka said to the hitman.

“Okay okay no problem. I don’t know. So sorry. Have a good night.” He looked at Ka and smiled as he sped off with his wife, girlfriend, consort, date or whatever she was.

I could put together the story that he was communicating. Mistaken identity is very plausible. A white woman with a Thai man is simultaneously rare enough for an outsider to think that we’re the only couple of that sort in the area, while also being common enough for there to be another pair closely matching our identity. Somewhere near here perhaps a bored housewife is getting freaky with some staff member and, probably to the enragement of her white husband, is not being discreet at all about it. Perhaps she’s drinking and singing on the main road and covorting as lovers do and…Yeah I can see it.

For various reasons I’d heavily prefer if that whole adventure simply represented the fevered imagination of a middle aged woman who fancies herself hotter than her years represent. I’ve been asking myself for days how a 1-2 minute interaction in a 7 Eleven could have possibly led to that type of hit. I’m not that cool. I don’t even want to be that cool.

“I’d like you to be my pool boy.” I told Ka this morning. “No really. The swimming pool in Las Vegas needs a lot of work.”

“Can do!” Ka smiled.

The last several days have been a whirlwind of adventure. In Bangkok the police informed us that the clearance certificate had to be mailed to us in Phuket, which dovetailed with what the US Embassy told me regarding Ka’s passport and a potential visa stamp. There is no pickup option even if I wanted to stay in the big city.

That brings it back to the panel physician check and the #$$%%$# jabs. I’ve decided that I need to stop calling it “the fucking Covid vaccine” or “the God Damned Covid vaccine” or “the God forsaken Covid vaccine.” Does anyone have alternative suggestions that are a little happier about that genocidal Satanic poison? Perhaps the “maybe it will kill you, maybe you’ll be okay” vaccine?

A screener from Bumrungrad hospital informed me that it was impossible that Ka had already interviewed at the US Embassy, because in order to do that, he must have had his panel physician check and at least two Covid vaccines beforehand. No, I informed her repeatedly. My husband had his interview on 24 October 2023. So no, they have not backed down at all. What they seem to have done is normalized the lie. Chant it with me now. Safe and effective safe and effective safe and effective…

Mafia room has had a few funny ones lately!

Do you think Kate Middleton really got the jabs?

Ahh America. I’ve heard of the place. I see the path of totality on a solar eclipse is going to pass through Toledo, Ohio on April 8…

So a nurse called us back on the whole it’s impossible that you had your interview without two Covid jabs beforehand thing. We were already on a bus back to Phuket by that point. She told us that she had a panel physician who will see Ka, but he needs to have had at least one jab beforehand.

I’m aggressively looking for that good doctor. But really in just following through with the rules and their logic I need the name manufacture lot number and any liability information I can get. It’s all of the same stuff you would expect when buying a car, am I right? If my husband ends up dead or disabled from your Satanic poison (please give me a better name for it before I really light off on the phone lines to some poor Thai person) I mean where’s my contract? Who can I sue?

Mom? Mom? Who is this guy? Mom?

I’ve been showing off family pictures lately. Knowing Thai language is a big asset here. I’m blown away by the lack of it with the area farang.

Wish us luck….

Buy me a ko-fi