I flew into Thailand without too much trouble, but passing through immigration caused a panic attack.
I was unsure what to give the immigration officer, and as I stood in the long line I held onto my passport and the Arrival immigration card. After a thirty minute wait I reached the front of the line and confidently handed over my documents. I was expecting to be quickly waved through, but my heart rate shot up when the officer asked for my Departure card. I had not filled it in, and being buried somewhere in my pack, told the officer I was unaware of this because I had arrived at Bangkok. He told me he needed it, so I reluctantly walked back to the end of the line.
I tried to compose myself, and took a seat on a nearby bench. I was hot and tired. I took off my jacket and searched for the departure card. I took my time filling it in, then returned to the line. After a thirty minute wait I reached the front and not so confidently handed over my documents.
The officer asked where I had flown in from.
"Hong Kong, via the 10:00pm flight on Cathay Pacific."
“No, the flight you listed does not exist.”
My face flushed and I became paranoid. I remembered the day in Paris when things went south.
The officer asked for my boarding pass.
"Not correct."
Unsure why, I explained to him I had printed it from the internet. Was that the problem?
"Not correct."
My breathing became quick, on its way to hyperventilating.
"Boarding pass, Chicago to Hong Kong?"
"yes, that's right, I flew from Chicago to Hong Kong. Then, Hong Kong to Bangkok."
"I need the boarding pass from Hong Kong to Bangkok."
I began to sweat when I realized I had written the wrong flight number on the Departure card. I could see the people in line behind me growing impatient. I quickly threw off my backpack, placed it on the ground, and searched for the Hong Kong to Bangkok boarding pass, hoping I had not thrown it away. Finding it stuck between papers in my travel folder, I handed it to the officer. He signed a form, stamped my passport, and waved me through.
Now on the correct side of immigration, the bright neon lights tickled my confusion and paranoia as I wandered aimlessly about, feeling out of place.
I needed to find an ATM. I passed a row of currency exchange booths and asked a clerk where the nearest ATM was. She pointed to one five feet from where I stood. My face blushed and I tried to smile as I thanked her. I struggled to get my bank card out of the money belt and knew I was a perfect target for a thief. By this point I could see myself giving in to anything. I was hoping to withdraw 10,000 baht, but the most the ATM offered was 5000 baht ($170). I was given five one thousand baht notes and knew they must be broken down.
I returned to the currency exchange clerk, still embarrassed, and received smaller denominations. I took a seat and counted the money, unsure how to read the notes. I recognized numerals stamped on the sides of the notes, calculating I was given the correct amount of bhat.
I needed to find a taxi and knew there was a taxi desk on the first floor. I went down an escalator and saw a sign for limousine services, deciding it was not affiliated with the taxi desk.
I walked outside and was stung with exhaust fumes and humid heat. Groups of people stood around, everyone seeming to know what they were doing and where they were going. I was lost and confused, and did not know where the taxi desk was. Unsure what to do, I stood curbside trying to look as if I was waiting for someone.
When my confidence returned I began to wander aimlessly around, and by good fortune happened upon the taxi desk. The clerk studied the address and map I had in hand, and hailed a taxi for me.
I watched the nocturnal city pass quickly by, the urban landscape looking similar to the west side of Chicago. I sensed a dread and terror pass through me, then, as I stared out the window, belongings held tightly at my side, the fragility and transience of my life staring hard back at me.
