The Inner Tumult of the Returning Silverback
i imagined myself getting off the plane like john of gaunt, emotional and gushing, reciting the words to arguably the most memorable line from my high school literature classes. i imagined myself getting off the plane, breaking down in tears, and weeping:
this royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
this earth of majesty, this seat of mars,
this other eden, demi-paradise,
this fortress built by nature for herself,
this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this los.
i imagined myself then falling to the ground and kissing the airport floor, thanking buddha, jesus and lucifer for bringing me back to this sceptred isle, this blessed plot, to satisfy my engorged libidinal greed. i imagined lots of weeping, both ophthalmic as well as penile as i made my way through the airport. i imagined entering the humid night air in my favorite city in the world and being awash in nostalgia and carnal excitement. i imagined getting into my hotel, showering and heading out for the most primal of activities: a night hunt. i imagined working hard for something at that time of the night / morning, but finally finding a pretty little thing who provided the most excellent of releases. and then i imagined a few hours of satisfied sleep before awakening for work.
what happened could not have been farther from what i imagined.
my flight out of incheon was delayed by about an hour, and thus arrived a little late, not much, just 15 minutes. but the delay in seoul really, really wound me up beyond belief. i kept imagining missing this first night (when you are in the midst of a delay, you have no idea how long the delay will be) , which would be unimaginable. because i have to work hard these 8 days that i am here, every night counts, especially this first one. if i am up late tonight, when i get into work tomorrow, i have an excuse. a long trip across the pacific will do that to you. yes, so will fucking until 5am, but you see the plausible deniability there, right? so i needed to get a good, hard fuck in before work tomorrow, and the delay in flight was just killing me. sitting at that boarding gate in seoul i was just getting more and more worked up to the point i think i was frothing at the dick.
once we boarded and took off, the stress did not diminish. if anything, perhaps the rarified air magnified my distresses. it didn't help that the korean stewardess assigned to our area was the cutest of the bunch, with an ass that was so good that i would personally stab a baby seal to death over it. and as such, when we arrived in bkk, i was fucking frantic. i was demonic. i knew i had that look in my eyes. i was scaring children, heck, i was scaring full grown scandinavian men. the plane landed and i was one of those idiots who undoes his buckle before the plane comes to a full stop. i had my hand luggage ready to go before anyone had even gotten up, and i pushed grandmothers and children aside to get to the front of the cabin. when the door opened, i was out and running up the jetway. in my head i heard someone scream, 'get out of my way you fuckers! i have ass cheeks and legs to fondle! '
i (literally) ran through the corridors of suvarnabhumi, splitting families and scaring children. as i ran the seeming-miles to immigration, i heard myself saying things to myself. 'this royal (huff) throne of ki. (huff, huff). kings, this (gulp) sceptred isle, this (huff, puff) earth of pussies and asses (groan, puff) , this, oh fuck it: get out of my way! '
i rounded the corner to immigration to be met by a block of human beings. lines longer than i have ever seen. dude. ok, ok, don't panic kumbu, i can do this. i am an expert analyst, so let's do the math, do the analysis, and pick your line wisely. i took a breath, settled down as best i could, and cast my keen eye upon the throngs of people. i needed the best line, the fastest line, ok, here's what you do: pick the line with the fewest arab families. sorry to my arab brothers, but with multiple wives, each with multiple ill-behaved children, having to remove scarves for the face photo, and all that luggage (why all that luggage?) , one arab family is like a hair ball in my shower drain. it just slows everything down. next, pick the line with the fastest immigration officer. the one doing the loudest and fastest smack of that stamp onto passports, that's what you want. and finally, pick the line with the most single, japanese men (they zip through at top speed). no fuss, no mess, a curt bow and 'domo', and they are done. just like in the gogo bars.
i did the calculus on each line and found one that ticked all the boxes. i picked my line, and started getting my passport and everything in order. ok, here's my passport, and ok, here's my hotel name, and ok, here's my arrival card, and here's my luggage ticket. ok, got baht for the taxi ride in my left pocket, and condoms ready to go in the right pocket, ok, let's just get through this ffffucking line and we'll be off to the horses, ok, let's go, yup, almost there.
as always, i was in the slowest fucking line of the lot. for some reason. 2 minutes after i joined the line, the immigration officer switched and we got a new middle-aged female officer who was skunk-eyeing everyone. for no frickin' reason! she just took a few moments to eye-ball everyone in her field of vision, whether they were in her line or not. she also couldn't handle the face-photo technology, and it was just taking forever for her to process even the japanese males in front of me. a japanese guy ahead of me in the line turned his head at one point and i thought i saw frustration on his face too. i imagined what was going through his head, and the word 'bakkaro' kept coming up.
as i stood there, being passed to the left and right by arab families, i recognized people who had been on my flight. they were looking at me like i was some kind of sick puppy. a small kid said to his mother 'look mommy, there's the man who pushed me in the face' and the mother said 'yes, i know honey, don't look at him, just read your book. ' and shit, of all places, i now started to get a hard-on, perhaps in anticipation of the night ahead. but this was like having an erection in church. it's just bad timing.
i finally got to the immigration officer, and she gave me the sharp eye-ball treatment with a deep furrow in her brow. at first i thought it was because of fully-erect little kumbu bumping against the counter (could she hear that?) , but soon realized it was something else. i am a brownie, and i have a very ambiguous ethnic background. some think i am indian, others think i am arab, or persian, or italian, or spanish, or mexican. in fact, i am none and all of those. i am a global citizen in both my experience and my genetics. but she was pegging me for some easy-to-process nationality, and when i gave her my passport with the words united states of america stamped on them, a puzzled look came across her face. she then started with the clickety-clacking on her computer and as my record popped up, a little look of comprehension came across her face. she must have seen the number of visits i have made to the kingdom of legs, and now she knew what i was. mongerdom knows no national boundaries and needs no explanation. as if to confirm her suspicions, as i stood there watching her inspect my passport, i found myself eyeing the button of her blouse. mmm, i wonder what kind of tits she has. she may be middle aged and have the ass of a linebacker, but hey, it's been a while.
i finally got out and i did not even have time to register the claminess of the night air, i just ran to get a taxi. i was in and i gave the guy 200b for the tolls and said 'if you go quickly, you can keep the change. '
boom. we must have been doing 160kph on that highway. he had his foot flat against the floor of the car, driving with one hand on the wheel while he arranged the right change for the tolls with the other. as we got to the tolls, he did not even stop at the toll booth for the ticket. he just tossed the money at the befuddled masked worker in the booth and gunned the car into the night air. as we took the corner on the highway towards bang na and sukhumvit, he did not even slow down and i was (literally) thrown against the window. i think the taxi tipped onto its two side wheels, although given my horizontal orientation and fully erect penis (?) i can't be sure of that. we screeched into my hotel turn-around and i paid what was on the meter, and pulled out another 100b to give to the guy. driving like that deserves a reward because fuck knows he won't be alive too much longer to enjoy life.
i ran inside, checked in (the paper work was remarkably quick) , rushed upstairs, took a quick shower, grabbed my pre-packed first-night wardrobe and scampered down. i walk-ran through the lobby and through the doors, mumbling incoherently like chief inspector dreyfus, and broke into a world-class sprint into the bangkok night air, as excited as i have ever been. i barreled off into the night towards sukhumvit and nep like a horny silverback sensing the female in heat. that's what i'm talkin' about: this is mongering at its best.
my next post chronicles what this horny silverback managed to accomplish after that rather self-induced stressful opening scene. to preview, it was fffffffabulous.
