If You Thought I Was Overreacting
Around 3:30 AM I go to the bathroom and then return to the room. I hear voices down in the street, nothing unusual at first--I'm used to hearing loud drunken hostelers at all hours of the night. I get into bed, and the voices get louder, and a male speaking British or Australian-accented English says something I can't understand, except the word "fuck".
Still nothing that out of the ordinary, maybe just some guy recounting an anecdote to his friends--nothing I haven't heard a hundred times before during my travels. Then suddenly the man's voice gets a lot louder, and I can't distinctly hear him shout "I WILL FUCK YOU UP!!!" Oh shit, I think, serious drama.
I go over to the window to see if I can see what is going on, and sure enough it's happening right in front of the hostel. The Westerner, definitely drunk, at least six-feet tall, bearded, and packing some muscle, which I can tell even through the shirt, is shouting at a middle-aged, paunchy, taxi driver holding a stick. The driver's English is limited, but I can still understand that he is saying "I WILL BEAT YOU" as he brandishes the stick, while the Westerner, undeterred, continues to shout "I WILL FUCK YOU UP!!!" and "GET OUT OF HERE!!!". A third man, whom from upstairs through the window looked like a Thai, the security guard perhaps, but might actually have been the Westerner's Caucasian friend, is keeping himself in between the two and keeps both telling the driver to leave and pushing the Westerner away. Actually, now that I think about it, as upset as the Westerner was, I'm not sure a Thai could have gotten away with shoving him back as hard as he was doing, without getting hit.
The situation continues to escalate. Every time the Westerner seems to be backing away the taxi driver moves forward with his stick and says something that causes the Westerner to move forward and shout even louder while his (presumed) friend pushes him back. At some point the Westerner takes his shirt up, presumably to show off that he is muscled and can indeed "fuck up" the taxi driver. The driver seems undeterred. All the while I'm guessing at what is going on, and my best guess is that it has to do with money, either that the drunk Westerner misunderstood the fare, or that the taxi driver was trying to run a game on him.
Meanwhile, one of the two other guests who were actually in my room (the other five out at that late hour, not strange, but kind of strange for a Tuesday night) has come over to the window to see what was going on. I recognize him as the Australian (I think) who had sat down at the table in the lobby while I was chatting with Varvara. I ask him, "do you know that guy--I hope he's not in our room." The Aussie replies "yeah, he's in our room--he's a pretty cool guy." I'm kinda disagreeing in my head there, about this drunk raving lunatic being a "cool guy" while hoping when he finally does come in, that he just goes straight to sleep. Around that time the shirtless Westerner walks a few steps, bends over to the ground, and picks up what I assume had to be a rock and holds it over his head threateningly. The taxi driver does not waver and continues to shout and shake his stick.
By that time there is a fourth person involved, a young lady manning the desk, and she is outside shouting at the taxi driver, in Thai, presumably that he should leave. The situation continues a bit longer, and then the taxi driver says something that includes the word "money". The third man picks up some bills from the ground and gives them to the driver. Behind me, the Aussi is putting on some shoes, maybe a shirt, and says he is going down to see what's happening. I turn back to the window, and the taxi is driving off, situation over.
Kind of.
After a few minutes I hear sounds on the steps, then the dorm door opens and the light comes on. It's the Westerner, of course (Australian, definitely, from his accent when I heard him in the lobby later), breathing heavily. He retrieves something and goes back outside, and I wonder if I'll be able to fall asleep again before he comes back up and starts drunkedly puttering about.
So yeah, if you think that blogging about somebody who has dissed you is overreacting, think about these two guys in Bangkok.
A parting question--the tall Westerner, shirtless, drunk, raving, and brandishing a rock. Does that fit anybody's definition of a "cool guy"? I'm reminded of a tale told by a guy named Cory who used to hang out at the Starbucks back in Plano. He had a friend who had a dormmate whom he described as a "tool" (if my memory from over 10 years back serves me), and he recounts a story about how his friend would take the dormmate's towel and rub it up and down his ass. Cory then described his friend as a "cool guy", and me and this other guy named Dave, sitting there at the Starbucks, shook our heads while Dave said "yeah, he sounds like a cool guy all right."
So finally, whatever you think me of me, remember this--if I'm ever in a room alone with your towel, I won't rub my ass on it, nor am I likely to threaten you with a rock.