Stories Vol 14: What Happened to Miss Wang?

 

 

Over the last 7 years, I have come to loath bus rides and road trips with out proper ventilation. As many of you read, Pai was no exception to that. I think what made this particular trip even more unpleasant, was the fact that even after it had finished we still did not know what had happened to our friend, Miss Sherry Wang.

 

Luckily, we had at least nonchalantly tossed around the idea of stopping at the popular hostel "Spicy Pai" and checking to see if they had availability online. We had been told that even though they show they are booked online, they often times have more than enough room if you just stop by the front desk and ask. Praying to the travel gods, we committed that we would head to Spicy Pai and wait for Sherry there. At the least, we would hopefully be able to log onto some WiFi and send her a message.

 

image of spicy Pai dorm room

One of the nice things about Thailand is that there is an abundance of Taxi and Tuk Tuk drivers readily at your access. Most of the time, the price for a 15 to 20 minute cab is less than $4 USD as well. However, in this instance when we were approached in Pai by the drivers, I had already spent 3 hours with intense motion sickness. Rather than get in another motor vehicle of any sort (motorbike included) I suggested we walk to the hostel where we told Sherry we'd be and get some fresh air.

 

In practice, a fresh walk sounds great to cure motion sickness but when that walk is in 90 degree weather, clear skies, sun beaming down and over 80% humidity the idea is flawed. After the first 7 minutes of Tom, Becky and I wandering through the walking paths, I start to notice that the sickness is not going away and my back is coated in a thick layer of sweat.

 

"Why the hell did I bring my Yoga Mat." I think to myself. is is the only thing that is heavy in my pack and with out it, I would be far less weighed down. However, with that said, the Yoga Mat has been my saving grace to motivating myself to work out. I'm doing two months, I can't treat it as a vacation, I have to do some type of exercise routine. Because the mat is such a hassle to remove from my pack and the tubular bag its in, I force myself to use it once its out.

 

The hostel, Spicy Pai, is about a 20 minute walk outside of town from what Vanessa and Fleur told us. All I want is to lay down with a cool ice pack on my forehead. The farther we walk away from town towards the hostel, the more and more this town reminds me of Moab, Utah. It's the same concept, some outdoor adventure hippies moved into an area and never left. They set up coffee shops, bars, activity outriggers and craft shops. The thoughts on similarities between the two distract me from my state. The cars and motorbikes wizzing by snap me back to reality, I need to maintain focus.

 

Upon arriving at the Hostel, it was clear that Sherry had not been there yet. We were worried. I get us situated in a bungalow suite for four and we hop on the hostels wifi. My first message to Sherry is simple: "So we booked the 4 person aircon bungalow at spicy Thai." In my groggy state I forgot the pleasantries of where are you and are you ok and we're worried about you. Worrying that we may have also not paid for the ride and instead stolen someone else's, I oh so bluntly message: "Also did you pay for us already for the ride to here?"

 

An hour goes by and still no response from Sherry. I reread my message and am appalled at how emotionless it is. Realizing my error, I try to correct for the lack of concern and empathy in my original messages: "Also where are you? Lol." Not my best work but I'm going to use the fact that I was still clinging to the floor for stability after the ride.

 

Over the next hour sitting in the hostel I sent message after message to Sherry. She had wandered off the night before at the bars and so I was at that point getting concerned she did not make it back to her hostel. Like my mother does when I fail to respond to a text, email, voicemail or message I trolled Facebook looking for signs of life. I sent message after message.

 

"Shit, Alex. I can't get a hold of her." I voice out loud.

 

"Did you just call him Alex?" Becky answers back.

 

"I don't think I did, sorry Alex…I mean Tom." I stumble through the names, groggy and struggling with the conversation at hand. The two of them laugh. It's clear that the ride really took it's toll.

 

Tom still in no state to leave the room, suggests that if Becky and I are still hungry we should go to town and get something to eat at a place with WiFi. He needs to wait here anyway and once Sherry arrives, they'll come to town to rent motorbikes with us.

 

Becky and I at the sounds of our stomachs growling, quickly agree. While concerned for Sherry, there was nothing we could do but wait and so we set out for town and found a nice little WiFi equipped café with Thai Food and Smoothies. It was very bohemian. We both ordered some noodles and mango smoothies. It's funny no matter where you are now, you always seem to have WiFi.

 

Our plan for the evening was to do a hike to a canyon and watch the sunset. In addition to getting in touch with Sherry, I was in charge of finding out what time the sun was going to set in order to make sure we had enough time to get there and complete the hike. So there I was, groggy and tired at the restaurant. I googled the sunset time and saw that it was at 19:05.

 

"Holy shit, It was 3pm now and that was only two hours away."

 

My thoughts were running wild given we might not have time any more to do Becky's thing. I quickly get back on Facebook and message Sherry and Tom.

 

"Hey guys, so sunset is at 5:05."

 

To my relief, Sherry responds with in minutes and the following conversation ensues:

 

 

 

With Sherry and Tom both on there way and the sunset at 19:05, Becky and I relaxed, sitting back to enjoy our smoothies. Everything had worked out ok. Soon at 5:05 we would be enjoying a peaceful sunset with our little cohort of backpackers. About 15 minutes after the messages, Tom arrives. Given its 3:30pm and the sunset is at 19:05pm, I tell them we only have and hour and a half to get bikes, find the canyon and hike the pass before the sunset.

 

The three of us wait patiently for Sherry outside the restaurant. We watch motorbiker after motorbiker, trying to identify our friend. Another 15 minutes pass and we are starting to get concerned about time. We contemplate going to get bikes but decide against it. Right as we start working out plan b scenarios, we see the outline of a biker in the far off distance. They are wobbling and seem to be going at a glacier's pace.

 

"That's gotta be Sherry." Tom giggles out loud. And sure enough we can see clearly that our friend Sherry has  finally arrived to join the original group.

 

Getting the motor bikes is a fairly simple process and only takes all of 10 minutes. Given this is my first time on any type of motorized bike, the company makes me do a brief tutorial out back in a dirt track. The instructor in the course of 30 seconds shows me how to start the engine, accelerate, break and signal. He then has me do a lap around the course.

 

Seeing how easy it is, I go for it. With my hand on the throttle I twist the right handle forward and begin accelerating off onto the track in front of me. The bike feels amazing. I sit there in disbelief and let my mind circle through all of the horror stories I had been told about the dangers of biking. I think back to second grade when Mr. Anderson, my baseball coach and friends dad, came in and told the entire grade about how he lost his leg in a motorcycle crash. With the ease at which the bikes motions come to me, all of those stories seem implausible and unlikely to happen to me.

 

I pass two Japanese girls going 5km/hour struggling with finding confidence. The instructor fine with my performance returns me to the rental shop. My group of friends are waiting patiently for me. I smile at them from a distance letting my inner 4 year old scream out with excitement.

 

Armed with bikes, the four of us head out for the canyon. Tom, the most experienced driver, leads our caravan. I try to keep pace with him through out the drive but Becky and Sherry keep trailing far behind to the point where I no longer see them in my mirror. I motion for Tom to stop. It is clear that our two friends are not quite as comfortable with the bikes at a medium speed.

 

At a slower pace, we set back out for the canyon. Stopping a couple times for pictures along the way. Every so often, I find myself cutting loose from the pack and speeding faster and faster ahead. I've never felt this feeling before, the wind…. The vistas… It's all soooo fucking amazing!!!! I get the bike up to 100km an hour at one point.

 

After 20 minutes we arrive at the Canyon and begin the hike to the top. The views as we hit the last stair become striking. There in front of us is a massive canyon valley similar to those you would see in Utah. It's breath taking. It's 4:50pm and still incredibly bright out. We decide to explore around a bit. As we get to a little peninsula and take pictures, I see a confused facial expression hit my three companions' faces.

 

"Are you sure the sunset is at 5:05pm?" Tom questions, glaring at the still very high sun.

 

"Yes, Alex. I checked it online."

 

"Did you just call him Alex?" Asks Sherry.

 

"Haha he's been doing that all day. He's been calling me Sherry too." Replies Becky.

 

"Fuck!"

 

"Wait then who is Alex." Sherry begins to question.

 

I go bright red at the line of fire. Half embarrassed by my issue with mistaking names and the other with the fact that Alex was the attractive French guy from my first night in Bangkok. Tom resembles him to an extent. Sherry knows the story of Alex and so I am reluctant to make the connection. I am not into Tom, but the resemblance is uncanny. Sherry can see I'm red and with out any further questioning, winks and in doing so notifies me that she understands.

 

In my moment of embarrassment over calling Tom by the wrong name, it hits me. The sunset is at 19:05. That is 7:05pm on the non 24 hour clock not 5:05. How the hell did I do that math wrong?

 

I look at the group and like a child having to own up to their mistake, I sheepishly announce to the group, "Soooooo, I might have made a mistake in my grogginess. Online it said the sunset was at 19:05 which I miscalculated as 5:05 instead of 7:05. So so sorry. I don't know how I did that."

 

The group ensures me that it's no big deal and with two hours to kill, we get back on our bikes and wander the near by sites. We get back at the correct time of 7:05 just in time to catch a peaceful sunset at the canyon.

 

Tired and ready for food, we head back into town and grab some street food and a burger from "Burger Queen," a local small restaurant. The food is phenomenal and puts me into a needed coma for the rest of the night.

 

The day had been packed with mistakes, discomfort and  bonding. We didn't dwell on the mistakes but rather chose to live in the moment, enjoy the good company and make more memories.