The stopover was in Taipei's airport, which was obviously built by Eskimos. Fuck, I've been in that airport four times already and I still haven't learned that wearing a t-shirt and shorts will cause you to freeze to death there unless you conveniently found a walrus to spear and insert yourself inside its rich layer of fat. Luckily I bought a bottle of Suntory whiskey and a Dupont lighter from the duty-free shop and set a magazine rack on fire for warmth.
This was then followed by a 10-hour flight, half of which consisted of non-stop turbulence. I'm not exaggerating. Five hours straight. After the first hour, I just assumed the plane was going to disintegrate. They'll probably end up replacing most of the seat cushions, although the airplane food made the passengers too consipated to shit their pants. I tried to distract myself by watching a Kevin Costner movie. Forgot the name of the film, but he's a cowboy and seething time bomb of prairie rage.
I've included some pics from our first night in Thailand. The rest'll come later as my friends send around their photos...
We had dinner and drinks at a supper club called Bed. It's a new concept to Bangkok, and I know it's been a popular - and now dying - trend in the States, but I've always disliked eating at those kind of joints. Eating on a mattress just makes me uncomfortable, and whenever the girl spilled some crumbs on the sheets I'd instinctively kick her off the bed.
Our lovely waitress posing with my Orc-slaying friends is a dude. At least I thought so. Granted, she looked and moved like an attractive woman, but she spoke like an attractive man. My buddies refused to believe me and gave the dong-hiding damsel the benefit of the doubt, claiming his/her hands were small and he/she had no Adam's apple. In the end I guess the only way to know for sure is to conduct a series of medical tests, or just grab the genitals and run before you can be properly identified by witnesses.
After dinner, I sampled some of the finest sidewalk cuisine Bangkok had to offer. This cart looked like the caterer for "Fear Factor," selling deep-fried frogs, grasshoppers, maggot-esque larvae, and giant water beatles. Of course I had to try the water beatles.
My dad grew up on a farm where they didn't waste any part of the animal, or any species of animal for that matter, and I acquired his taste for trying dishes that would make most people vomit or contact PETA. The water beatle kinda tasted like artichoke, and in fact you eat it like an artichoke leaf since the outer shell is hard. Of course I didn't figure this out until after I ate the whole thing.