An Unusual Event on an Otherwise Boring Day
Today was 'immigration day'. That dreaded day when I have to scoot off to my 90 day check in. Actually, Monday last week was immigration day but I'm good at procrastinating. Anyhow, I arrive just as the clock hits noon, walk inside, and to my surprise the ticket-spitting-machine is down and there are notices around saying that they will not be adding to the queue until 1PM. Lunch maybe? OK, no problem, I'll just go outside and have a coffee and a smoke while I wait it out. 12:30 rolls around and I'm out of both cigarettes and coffee. With 30 minutes remaining until I can even pull a number I decide that I'll just ride down to the 7 Eleven and come back. Great idea! It's not like I'm losing my place in the line that doesn't exist.
I pull out of the immigration parking lot and almost immediately come up on an unusually disorganized traffic jam with an officer standing in front. I treated it the same way I would treat any other traffic jam being directed by an officer. I zigged and zagged through the stopped cars to get to the front, as did everyone else on a motorbike because, well, that's just how it goes around here. On my way up I realized there were no cars in the U-Turn lane and of course decided to take advantage of the opportunity to cruise up the obstacle free path when suddenly the officer turns his attention to me in a very hostile manner. He blew his whistle like a dead housewives teapot on a hot stove while simultaneously yelling things at me that I did not understand and furiously gesturing something with his hands that I absolutely failed to recognize. So I do what any sensible person does when they are clearly doing something wrong. I stopped doing what I was doing. Clutch in, breaks on, feet down. Apparently that wasn't what he wanted me to do because the frantic hand gestures, whistling blowing, and shouting did not cease. So I figure he must want me to come forward then? What else could I do on a motorcycle at a road block? I either stop or I go, as per the mechanics of the motorcycle, right? Wrong. Going forward was not what he wanted. Now I'm up at the very front of the traffic, terribly confused, to the point that I pulled up as close as I could to the car on my left thinking that maybe there was a harpy diving down to snatch me away or a freight train coming up from behind. I finally give up trying to figure it out, dip my head in respect, and tell him "Mai kaojai ka!" (I don't understand!) as politely as possible while I start to wonder if I should be panicking already. Then he changed his tactics.
He jabbingly twists his hand out at me. No vocals. OK. Kaojai. Turn the bike off. That was followed by more hand flapping and words I don't know to which I could only respond with a confused look. "STAND!" Ok! No problem! I wasn't sure if it would have been appropriate or not for me to stand with the bike still between my legs and I certainly didn't want to try to figure it out so I put the kick stand down, gently leaned the bike over the car that I had been hugging, and stood next to my bike. There was no more yelling. No more whistle blowing. Silence.
Meanwhile, I'm still looking around trying to figure out exactly what is going on but I don't see anything unusual other than the emptiness of the road in front of me. I scanned back and forth. Nothing. I looked to the skies to see if that harpy had decided to double back. Nope. Just silence.
So I stand there. A traffic patrol car slowly drives by us in the opposite direction with the loudspeaker on. What he said went something like, "Excuse me, we are sorry------car--------wait a minute-----------. Thank you." Just a few minutes later a caravan of vehicles appeared from the dead end opposite from where I was. There were police on motorcycles, police in cars, SUV's, an ambulance, and a few rather ordinary looking cars in between. What normal person needs a caravan like that to chauffeur them around?
Obviously, that was someone very important. Maybe it was the Prime Minister? Someone from The Royal Family? To my knowledge The Royal Family does have a residence here in Chiang Mai so it would seem possible that The King of Thailand and I may have crossed paths this afternoon.
I pull out of the immigration parking lot and almost immediately come up on an unusually disorganized traffic jam with an officer standing in front. I treated it the same way I would treat any other traffic jam being directed by an officer. I zigged and zagged through the stopped cars to get to the front, as did everyone else on a motorbike because, well, that's just how it goes around here. On my way up I realized there were no cars in the U-Turn lane and of course decided to take advantage of the opportunity to cruise up the obstacle free path when suddenly the officer turns his attention to me in a very hostile manner. He blew his whistle like a dead housewives teapot on a hot stove while simultaneously yelling things at me that I did not understand and furiously gesturing something with his hands that I absolutely failed to recognize. So I do what any sensible person does when they are clearly doing something wrong. I stopped doing what I was doing. Clutch in, breaks on, feet down. Apparently that wasn't what he wanted me to do because the frantic hand gestures, whistling blowing, and shouting did not cease. So I figure he must want me to come forward then? What else could I do on a motorcycle at a road block? I either stop or I go, as per the mechanics of the motorcycle, right? Wrong. Going forward was not what he wanted. Now I'm up at the very front of the traffic, terribly confused, to the point that I pulled up as close as I could to the car on my left thinking that maybe there was a harpy diving down to snatch me away or a freight train coming up from behind. I finally give up trying to figure it out, dip my head in respect, and tell him "Mai kaojai ka!" (I don't understand!) as politely as possible while I start to wonder if I should be panicking already. Then he changed his tactics.
He jabbingly twists his hand out at me. No vocals. OK. Kaojai. Turn the bike off. That was followed by more hand flapping and words I don't know to which I could only respond with a confused look. "STAND!" Ok! No problem! I wasn't sure if it would have been appropriate or not for me to stand with the bike still between my legs and I certainly didn't want to try to figure it out so I put the kick stand down, gently leaned the bike over the car that I had been hugging, and stood next to my bike. There was no more yelling. No more whistle blowing. Silence.
Meanwhile, I'm still looking around trying to figure out exactly what is going on but I don't see anything unusual other than the emptiness of the road in front of me. I scanned back and forth. Nothing. I looked to the skies to see if that harpy had decided to double back. Nope. Just silence.
So I stand there. A traffic patrol car slowly drives by us in the opposite direction with the loudspeaker on. What he said went something like, "Excuse me, we are sorry------car--------wait a minute-----------. Thank you." Just a few minutes later a caravan of vehicles appeared from the dead end opposite from where I was. There were police on motorcycles, police in cars, SUV's, an ambulance, and a few rather ordinary looking cars in between. What normal person needs a caravan like that to chauffeur them around?
Obviously, that was someone very important. Maybe it was the Prime Minister? Someone from The Royal Family? To my knowledge The Royal Family does have a residence here in Chiang Mai so it would seem possible that The King of Thailand and I may have crossed paths this afternoon.