Touched down into Thailand without much trouble, however getting out of customs caused a slight panic attack. I wasn't sure what I needed to show the immigration officer, so when I got into the long line I held onto my passport and the white immigration card marked “Arrival”. After a 30 minute wait in line I confidently handed over my documents and expected to be waved through, since I had not seen any of hundreds of people going through (there were 15-20 lines with 30-40 people in each) be turned back. However, my heart began to race when the officer asked me where my white departure card was. I told him I was not aware I had to fill it out since I was arriving into Bangkok. He told me I needed to fill it out, so I told him I would and he asked me to leave the same way I had come. I felt my face become flushed with embarrassment, because as I said, I had not seen any of the hundreds of people filing through have to turn around and walk back to the arrival gates. I imagined the people waiting in line, seeing me refused entry into Thailand, thinking I must be some kind of crazy criminal.
I tried to compose myself, and found a bench to sit upon. I was quite hot, as the airport did not have good air conditioning, and I still had my jacket on, so I pulled it off, and was happy to find the white departure immigration card stuffed into my travel folder. I took my time filling it in, then walked back to the long line. I waited another 30 minutes, and even though my jacket was off, I was beginning to feel awful, and I felt my mind collapsing into a state of paranoia and panic, most likely due to the large crowd of people, not having slept in 24 hours, and the extreme heat. My muscles were becoming tense, my face was still flushed, and I just wanted to lock myself into a quiet, dark room and fall asleep. When I finally reached the immigration officer, he looked over my documents, and then asked where I had flown in from, because the arrival flight number I had written did not match any on his list. I explained I had come in from Hong Kong, via the 10:00pm flight on Cathay Pacific. “No, the flight you listed does not exist.” I sensed I was now taking longer in line than most , my face became further flushed, I was starting to overheat, and my paranoia grew stronger. I was reminded of one of my days in Paris, when everything seemed to go wrong. The officer asked for my boarding pass, and I handed it to him, but he did not like that I had printed it from the internet. I explained to him that it is possible to print one's own boarding pass, and that the airline had accepted it, and I showed him the scan box which made it an official boarding pass. He told me that it was not correct. I pointed to the bold lettering “BOARDING PASS” on the top of the printout. He once again told me it was not correct. My heart began to race and I was close to hyperventilating. The image of me being stranded in the BKK airport was not a pleasant one, and I recalled the film starring Tom Hanks of the man who lived in an airport due to immigration troubles. The officer explained that the pass I had given to him was from Chicago to Hong Kong. I told him yes, that is right, I went from Chicago to Hong Kong, then Hong Kong to Bangkok. He told me he needed to see the boarding pass for Hong Kong to Bangkok. I then understood that I had filled out the arrival form incorrectly, using the flight number from Chicago to Hong Kong. I could not understand how I could make such a mistake, since I was being careful with all of my steps. I decided it was due to being exhausted, and the large amount of details that my mind was having to process in a short amount of time. By now I had taken twice as long as most people, and I was aware of holding up the people behind me. I tried to remain calm, all I needed to do was find the correct boarding pass. I took my backpack off my shoulders, placed it on the ground, unzipped, pulled out the travel folder, and after going through the documents twice could not find the boarding pass. Had I thrown it out? I could not remember throwing it out, it had to be here. I was about to tell the officer I could not find it, and that I was going to have to turn around and leave to look for it, then get into line again. But I really did not want to have to turn around, I still had not seen anyone else being turned back, and I was about to do the walk of shame for a second time. I had seen children pass merrily through, and here I was bumbling around without a clue. I decided to look once more through the folder, and was relieved to find the boarding pass stuck between papers toward the back. I tried to slow my breathing down as I handed him the correct boarding pass. He looked it over, signed a form, stamped my passport, and waved me through.
While I felt a strong sense of relief as I now walked on the correct side of immigration under the bright neon of the airport, my mind was stuck in a state of tired confusion and paranoia. This was not good because there still remained important tasks to complete before I could get some much needed rest. I began to wander aimlessly around, feeling out of place. The next task was to find an ATM and get Thai Baht. I saw many brightly lit “Money Exchange” booths. An ATM had to be somewhere, and after walking back and forth a few times I stopped at one of the booths and asked where the nearest ATM was. She pointed and I saw one 5 feet from me. My face turned red and I tried to laugh as I thanked her, but I was beginning to worry about my ability to process detailed information. I was confronted with a machine I was unfamiliar with, and I struggled to get my bank card out of the money belt (first time using a money belt). If there were any thieves around I would be the perfect target - confused and in a foreign country. I could see myself giving in to anything in such a confused state. I was still feeling the embarrassment of the immigration check through as I slid the card into the machine, and felt the card being pulled from my fingers. I prayed that one, the card would not be blocked, and two, the machine would spit the card out after I had completed the transaction. I was hoping to take 10,000 baht, but the most it offered was 5000 ($170). There was an option for “other”, but since it was written in Thai, I was not certain if it really said “other”, so I decided to be safe and get 5000. The machine spitted out 5 X 1000 baht notes, and thankfully my card. I knew that I had to break down the notes, so I decided to ask the girl at the booth, even though I was still embarrassed about having to ask her where an ATM machine was. She gracefully took the bills and counted out the money. I had never seen baht notes and I knew that if she shorted me I would not catch it in time to complain. I took the notes and decided to walk off without counting, because if I counted I knew I would stand there a long time looking confused. After walking 10 feet I stopped and counted the money as best I could, knowing that I could be clearly seen by anyone, and trying to remember if I was still in possession of everything important (calm mind, no!) My passport was in my right front pocket (wrong place), one of the compartments of my money belt was unzipped, and as I looked at the bills, I could not read the amounts, they appeared to be written in Thai script. I then located a numeral I could recognize, in small print, written sideways, and after counting the bills reading the sideways numbers, appeared that I was still in possession of 5000 baht. As I stuffed the notes in my wallet, I realized that I had forgotten to take the receipt from the ATM. I tried to recall what kind of personal information is on a receipt, and knew that someone would see my bank acct balance and how much I had withdrawn, but nothing hopefully which would give them access to my account.
I needed to find a taxi and recalled from a guidebook that there was a taxi desk on the first floor. I was not certain what floor I was on, but guessed it was floor two, and decided to go down the escalator. I saw a sign for limousine services, but decided that was not the taxi desk. I walked out the door of the airport and felt the muggy hot air mixed with exhaust fumes blow across my face. Large groups of people stood around, and everyone seemed to know what they were doing and where they were going. I felt lost and confused, and did not see a taxi desk anywhere. Unsure what to do, I decided to stand still and look like I was waiting for someone so as to not attract attention. After standing for a few minutes I started to wander about aimlessly, and by good fortune happened upon the taxi desk. They called me over, looked at the address and map I had in my hand, and I was soon sitting in an air conditioned taxi, watching a landscape pass which looked similar to the west side of Chicago - super highways, crumbled old buildings, and sign boards haphazardly appearing. I leaned back, awaiting my soon to be much needed sleep.
