Road to Pai(dition). JTrom filling in for Tom Hanks.
Whatever you're thinking. Quit it. Your thoughts make me nervous. My trip is nearly complete. This saddens me. I'm also hungry. This might be what saddens me. I sit in a mall in Chiang Mai, awaiting a flight that is so close, yet so far away. (stop singing). Six hours. If you don't already know, Thailand has some extremely ridiculous malls. They invest a ton of money into their malls. Whooda thunkit? Not Jada Pinkett. (Coffee is to blame). The level of monster breakdancing transformer malls shocked me. Even nicer than the US. And I thought we were the king of malls. How American of me. Aren't we the best in everything? To all my non-American friends, I'm being facetious. Anyway, there is a reason I am writing this entry, and it is to tell a wonderful tale. A tale of new friends, distant journeys, tragic falls, and cold beers. A tale that started abruptly, and ended with a long ass ride on a struggling scooter. Demons were slayed, charges were pressed, and scrapes were bandaged. Here we go. (charges weren't pressed).
Steve and I decided to escape the world of Muay Thai for a night and day to the city of Chiang Mai. We found a dirt cheap hostel and hoped for the best. Upon our arrival, we instantly agreed we would stay more than one night (we did not), and proceeded to the rooftop of our cozy hostel. While relaxing in our humble hippie abode, we were joined by two lovely souls. These souls occupied bodies, and these bodies were female. Their human names were 'I don't remember' and 'who cares'. They came from a land called 'get on with the goddamn story you jackass'. Extremely cool people (named Loren and Viktoriya actually), they were a charming couple who were traveling the globe for a full year. This was their second month. What an honor to witness! We also met a fine human named Eli, a chef from Italy who runs a restaurant and lives in Cambodia, naturally. They bought us beer, we talked about life, identity, food, and music, and why it makes us cry, and then we split ways. Oh, we also talked about starting a gay band. Steve and I might not be gay, but that doesn't mean we can't start a gay band. And yeah, maybe you had to be there. So, Steve and I left, things happened, long walks, new friends, bars, weird cover bands playing American music, and so on. We returned to our village and prepped for the next day's Muay Thai training. As I was donning my evening socks, naturally, I receive a message on the book of faces. It was our friends from the night before. Turns out they were planning a four hour ride through the mountains to a quaint village up north called Pai. Guess what I said? Seriously guess? Is this annoying? No? Are you sure? It isn't? not at all? I SAID FUCKING YES!!! You should stop me when I get like that.
I hadn't ridden a scooter in years, but told the rental dude I have one back home and just wanted to watch him start it because...it's a tradition. He bought it, or more likely, couldn't give less of a shit. I hopped on the 'not meant to be driven longer than a few blocks' scooter and started my four hour mission to an unknown hippie village. Momma didn't raise no fool. With the spirits guiding me, I somehow found my way to the hostel and met up with my crew. We were sort of like an intimidating bike gang except we all had scooters, doofy helmets, and were very nervous about our route. The first hour of our journey lacked inspiration. I figured out a way to get lost in pursuit of the scooter rental place 10 minutes from the hostel. Once re grouped, the crew and I rode about 20 minutes out of the way in pursuit of a u-turn that never came. We finally managed to get on the correct road and were immediately stopped by a police check point where we were bribed by the local authorities for 1000 Baht each ($30). Deep breaths. This was still a good idea. This was still a good hotdamn idea! Thankfully, the good times began to roll following these mishaps. First positive sign was a new comer to the bike gang. While at a red light, a spritely young man from the land of Australia asked me if we were going to Pai. I responded with a snarl and said, 'Yeah, who's askin?'. He seemed confused, and simply said that he was. I was convinced he was ready to join our gang. We also really needed someone with phone service. He only spoke to the girls after this interaction. Kidding. He didn't speak to them either.
With a fully assembled gang of gritty scooter riders, we roared through the local villages at speeds only achieved on bicycles going down steep steep hills. I'm talking steep yo. Once we hit the actual mountain road the fun started. By fun, I mean horrendous anxiety. I should mention the other gang members rented their bikes from a spot that was familiar with the Pai route. My guy thought I was going to 7-eleven for water. How can I put this? My scooter was from like 5 years earlier and had the roger rabbit cartoon tires. The rain started. The temperature dropped. The mountain roads were pure curving hills. Way up, and then way down. I was somehow confident as I gripped my ignition with numb fingers and decided to take the lead. We were about an hour away from Pai when it happened. I took a turn going way too fast down a hill and my bike was like, "nah man, I think we should slide this one out." Before I knew it, My scooter slid from under me and i'm sliding down this cold wet hill on my farkin arse. Unfortunately my elbow caught underneath and I scraped it good and deep. I looked back and saw I also caused my gang to bust their asses as well. Street cred diminished. Thank goodness there were no major injuries. Could have been awful. Don't tell my mom about this entry. For the rest of the journey I took turns like Mr. Magoo.
We finally arrived in Pai, battered and bruised, but happy that no one saw us bust our collective asses. Beers flowed, laughs were shared. The village of Pai was interesting. Sort of Cancun-ish. Which I did not dig really. The restaurants were nice though. In all fairness I didn't stray far from the main strip that night. Perhaps there is more to the place. Odds are there is.
The following day I had to make the voyage home by myself as my bike gang decided it was time to part ways. They wanted to replace me with another skinny dude with more tattoos. I told them odds were he wasn't as good a dancer as me, they agreed. I was back to being an easy rider, and it was all good in the hood. By the grace of all that is holy the weather held up and blessed me with a dry sunny ride. My confidence slowly built back up after the spill, and I was gunning at around 45 miles per hour, easy. I know, I know, I'm nuts. Listen. I'm a troubled rider on the road of life. Taking chances and drinking coffee at most rest stops. I answer to no man, except anyone posing as any type of authority, or any person signalling for me to stop. I'm a rider. A Scooter-man if you will. The ride back was nothing short of amazing. Sick views, Great soundtrack through it all including old Radiohead, Anderson .Paak, Gorillaz, and Father John Misty. Straight up sexy. Me, cartoon tires and a big ol' loose helmet.
The road to Pai was a fantastic, unexpected, adventure and I thank my new friends Loren, Viktoriya, Eli, and Nathan, for making it happen. Thanks and praises, and to all a good night.
