A Charming Dawn

The deliriously energized Asiamerican marched through Don Muang’s brightly lit international terminal, wondering what the year 2003 would bring. Despite the fading paint and dull colors, Thailand’s 89 year old international aviation hub still had much charm within it.

Chris found commuter terminals in pre-dawn hours inspiring: Previously, he had only traveled domestically in the continental United States–mostly on Greyhound buses and Amtrak trains; in 20 years, this was his first time stepping off of an international flight. He was vulnerable to the Southeast Asian spells that lie ahead; the sweet smell of Jasmine stimulated his nostrils.

Blindly following the crowd of passengers, he caught the eye of a cute petite Asian girl in a purple hostess uniform holding a sign pointing the direction towards customs and immigration. Passengers anxiously herded down the terminal. There were announcements in several languages overhead but Chris didn’t stop to listen or ask anyone. He just followed the civil stampede, which seemed to know the right direction.

The lines at the immigration counters were packed. With all the sounds and livelihood, it seemed out of place for 3.37 am. Chris’s sense of time was already twisted backwards from the 24 hour trip from Phoenix via Los Angeles and Seoul.

All the immigration officers looked serious and overworked. Surveying the scene with a glance, Chris set his medium sized carry-on backpack down and yawned. As more passengers begin to fill the lines at several counters, he quickly moved into the least threatening queue. A middle aged Thai woman migrating tourists at a swift rate didn’t look up from her counter—stamping away like a programmed robot. 7 or 8 people were ahead in line.

Directly ahead of Chris were two casually dressed forty-something Japanese men. Chris wondered what they were doing in Thailand. Was it one of those sex tours publicized on the internet? —perhaps they were regulars. Or maybe they were here on business. Probably both, Chris concluded. He edged in a little closer to them tuning into their conversation. Though he couldn’t make out the exact details, a few key words and their body language said it all: About 20 meters along their vision path was an Asian woman in a stewardess uniform bent over grabbing something from her bag.

Though, he wasn’t fluent in Japanese, Chris had picked up some basic dialogues and vocabulary at a Japanese restaurant his late Thai mother use to be a hostess at when he was young boy; During his elementary school days, he’d hang out at the restaurant after school listening in on conversations among the cooks, servers, and dishwashers—particularly when they analyzed the figures of the student waitresses. His collection of Japanimation and J-erotica also had its lingual benefits.

As a young boy, Chris had a keen interest in foreign languages, particularly his mother’s native tongue, Thai. She taught him a few words and phrases, of which mostly quickly faded; English was the language used at home by both his parents. Chris’s patriotic Vietnam War veteran father wouldn’t have it any other way—that is, before he skipped town when Chris was only eight.

His mother was always slaving long hours at various Asian restaurants around Denver, trying to make ends meet, and so never had much time for Chris growing up. All that dedication to hard work only led to a broken family, if not her poor health and ultimate demise. After his father left for reasons still not clear, Chris had to learn to fend himself, lacking any real childhood.

2 Comments

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  By Craig Phillipson, June 3, 2009 @ 7:09 am

  Flashback! The tone and the style are definitely different from the first chapter, but still good- i’m interested to see what’ll happen next. After reading the first chapter I expected a story about Chris dealing with his demons in the present, but its cool that you went back into the past- there’s this sense of a fresh start coupled with a sense of dread about what will go wrong.
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  By admin, July 12, 2009 @ 11:27 am

  i guess that is the art of suspense–to always keep readers guessing:)

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