1 August 2010 – Bangkok, Thailand.
I was standing at the Royal Jordanian check-in desk when a great commotion broke out at the airport entrance –high pitched squeals from dozens of females clamoring toward something, camera flashes and everyone else stopping to look. [bxA] After a short discussion in Thai with his colleagues, the guy behind the desk holding my passport informed me and the European backpackers behind me that it was a famous Korean singer.
The female squeals got louder and the tall gorgeous blond backpacker behind me said, “He must be a really good singer, no?”
“He no good,” our Thai desk clerk assured, “he jus’ handsome. Song no good. No good. He jus’ handsome.”
It was closing in on midnight so I pretended like I was someone with a different set of circumstances and asked if it was too late to upgrade to business class. Suddenly a good night's sleep seemed worth a few extra bucks. No, it wasn’t too late and only $600 U.S. dollars. Doh! Only one decimal place away from business class.
Onward to the long zig zag line at Passport Control where an adorable older white man wearing a leather fedora and suspenders meant to look like measuring tape leaned over the red divider ribbon to harass the Asian man behind me.
“Pajamas! You’ve worn your pajamas to the airport.”
The Asian family stared blankly at him, heads slightly tilted in confusion.
“Pa-jaaa-maas,” the tape-measure-suspenders man tried to clarify, “you’re wearing your pajamas.”
Still nothing from the Asians.
The line moved and I was able to inconspicuously glance back to check out the dude’s sleepwear, disappointed to learn he was not wearing pajamas at all. He was comfortably dressed in white draw string pants, a yellow t-shirt …
and wrapped snuggly in a light pink bath towel.