Prompt response — giving thanks
Terror in Thailand
Taken!
We thought we had it all sorted! Everything had been arranged through a reputable travel agency including fares, insurance, transfers, and accommodation.
I could hardly wait for my second trip to Phuket with DSM. The first had been a short stop-over from a cruise ship sailing out of Singapore, and because the shopping and sights had seemed so exotic at the time, we planned to revisit as soon as possible.
I recall, it took nine-plus hours to get from Brisbane to Phuket airport — we arrived tired but excited, and very pleased to see our uniformed ‘limousine’ driver proudly waving a large sign on which was written a poorly-spelled version of our surname.
Chivalrously, I was relieved of my luggage and the three of us made our way out to A-wut’s car. I have no idea what the driver’s real name was, (twenty years does that to a memory), but I must call him something, so I Googled, Thai names for boys.
A-wut means weapon!
A-wut ushered us into the rear seat of his slightly aging sedan after placing our luggage in his boot, or trunk, or whatever is the preferred name in your part of the world for a car’s rear storage compartment.
As we left the airport, our driver made small talk in quite good English, attempting to point out what he thought were points of interest as we travelled. His ability to hold our attention made it easy to overlook the fact that our feet were resting on a few grubby toys, and the vehicle was generally not limousine material.
A-wut was a good driver — obviously experienced in the art of driving on Thai roads. Before long we had left the airport behind and were travelling north on a narrow but reasonably maintained highway.
We were fascinated by the Thai dwellings and the exotic country vegetation that flitted past our windows as we strained to hear softly-spoken A-wut’s travel monologue.
Looking back on our time in A-wut’s vehicle, I guess we were about halfway through our journey to Patong Beach. I was looking forward to a tall, cool drink beside the hotel pool and mentioned as much to my husband. DSM thought the idea was a good one, adding that he was getting hungry.
We were debating what to order poolside when the car’s two-way radio squawked followed by a male voice speaking Thai. A-wut snatched up his handpiece and began to debate some issue with the caller before grunting.
I noticed that he flicked his eyes up to his rear vision mirror, giving us a ‘look’ that sent my warning bells clanging.
Gripping DSM’s hand, I whispered, “Something just went wrong!”
“What?” returned DSM loudly, with a hesitant smile.
“Lower your voice,” I whispered. “A-wut received a call that un-nerved him, then he gave us a peculiar look in his mirror.” I gripped my husband’s hand, exerting a pressure that I hoped would get him on board with the seriousness of the matter.
Then my worst fears were realised!
Without warning, A-wut suddenly swung off the bitumen highway! Wresting his steering wheel, he negotiated a dusty, bumpy track that twisted and turned through the countryside, suddenly emerging into what appeared to be a banana plantation.
He drove between the trees at breakneck speed!
I glanced over at DSM, expecting to see my horror reflected in his face. My husband shrugged, then returned to gazing out the window as large, broad leaves slapped the side of our hurtling vehicle.
A-wut was muttering something in the front seat, which was indistinguishable to my terrified ears. It sounded like he was saying sorry, apologising repeatedly under his breath.
I dug rigid fingers into my husband’s arm and breathed into his ear. “We’re being kidnapped — in the jungle!” I sobbed hysterically. I had heard of such things happening to travellers who suffered terrible fates in exchange for their belongings. Those unfortunate victims were rarely heard of again.
“Rubbish!” declared D. “It’ll be okay. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. A-wut’s an okay bloke!” This coming from a man who thought anyone who drove a vehicle more than one kilometre over the speed limit was a menace to society. I was gobsmacked!
“You’re wrong, you’ll see!” I retaliated. “We’re being taken into the jungle, and the kids will never know what happened to us!”
D raised his eyebrows.
And then we sideways skidded around a sharp bend in the grove of banana trees and slid to a stop. The car had barely ceased moving when A-wut leapt from the driver’s side and raced around to the back of the car. He roughly opened the trunk, calling out in Thai as he did so.
Through my horror, I noticed a quite lovely plantation styled house. Down the three steps in front of the building raced another Thai man who belted over to a vehicle parked in the shade, and raised its trunk.
“Oh, God,” I cried. “He’s going for guns!”
Finally, DSM, showed a little emotion as he struggled to see what was going on outside.
“Hmm, gotta admit, things do seem a bit funny!” he Aussie-drawled in his sometimes annoying, slow way.
“A bit!” I screeched, “we’re gonna die!”
I watched as A-wut manhandled our luggage from his trunk to the trunk of the other car. The second man rushed to assist.
“After they steal our stuff!” I added hysterically.
DSM opened his door and made to get out. A-wut saw him moving and rushed over to get the door. Our driver started barking orders toward the house, and then to the other guy.
I whimpered as D helped me out of the car.
“Please, please,” begged A-wut. “So sorry to hold you up.”
“See,” I pulled at D’s shirt. “We’re being held up!”
“Only for long enough to swap cars with my brother,” explained our terrorist. “He needs this car for his tours tonight. We take his car into Phuket.”
At that moment, a beautiful Thai woman appeared on the top step of her home, bearing a tray loaded with tall glasses of juice and snacks. Two little Thai children were clinging to her skirts.
A-wut grinned broadly, taking D’s hand to shake it excitedly.
“I heard you say you needed food and a cold drink. This is my wife and family. I’m so happy you can meet!”
To this day, I have no idea why A-wut needed to suddenly swap cars with his brother — maybe it was some sort of licensing problem; perhaps they only had one car between them for tourists. Our plane had been late arriving in Thailand, so maybe that was the answer; a scheduling hiccup. Who knows?
Anyway, this brings me to the thanks-giving part of my article.
I will always be thankful that my husband is a slow burn, tending to think before lashing out at the world. Had he been more prone to the alternative, we might have been taken, not by terrorists, but more likely the Thai Police. Have you seen the state of the prisons over there?
To this day, however, I still insist I could have been justified in thinking our numbers were up. I am thankful that I was wrong!
I am also thankful that I no longer have the burning urge to travel — I don’t think I could stand the excitement.
The original prompt by Pierce McIntyre suggested popping a music link in the response. As this is a Counter Arts piece, that wouldn’t fit within the publishing guidelines!
If I was to select a soundtrack to my ‘giving of thanks’, it would have to be, ‘Bungle in the Jungle’ by Jethro Tull. 😁
None of the scary stuff would have happened if the Thai brothers had worked their schedule better, thereby avoiding the taxi bungle in the jungle.
Thanks, Will Hull.
There are no Thanksgiving celebrations in my corner of the world, but I love the sentiment, and pumpkin pie!
I am responding to your prompt in my own way, because there’s heaps to be thankful for — might as well do it at a time set aside for thanking.
This is the prompt from Pierce McIntyre that Will responded to:
Other prompt responses by Raine Lore:
