to Bangkok

When I was a kid, I just trusted that everything would work as it was supposed to, but that faith has not lasted as I've gotten older. Flying makes me nervous, especially when the engine outside my window sounds like a lawnmower. The clouds outside are in stark contrast to the skies over Korea. Layers and layers of thick, solid cumulus stacked on top of each other. One looks like a giant, bearded face; and when I look back again, it has opened its mouth, and a spray of mist arcs out of it, growing darker until it falls to the land below.

When we clear the bottom layer, the sky darkens, and we're passing over houses next to brown lakes, a shining gold temple, and the dregs of the city. I look down at the palm trees, the warm weather, the unique architecture and I think, "What the hell am I doing here?" The plane drops toward the runway. Landings are my least favorite part. I can see the wing rocking back and forth, we're more level than some landings I've had. Inside, I'm telling myself, "It's okay, he knows what he's doing, he's landed a plane before, we're going to be fine." And we are.

The last day of work affected me more than I expected. I called some of my favorite students and asked them what they wanted to be when they grew up, and heard my own voice cracking a few times. One student said she wanted to be a designer, and in one of her essays, she wrote that she would make me some shoes, because I 'liked to go places.' So I asked her if she would make me my shoes, and she said no. I said why not, and she said "Because you're leaving." The next day, I walked by the school, saw students whose teacher I no longer was, and I wondered why I was leaving. 

The taxi driver is very friendly, but she doesn't know where my hotel is. She tries to call them, but the number isn't working. Her cab is bright pink. She asks me, "Why didn't you go to Phuket? Don't you like beaches?" I said, "Yes, I do. I'm not sure why." About halfway there, we come to a better understanding of the address I hastily scribbled down this morning, when I made my reservation. She knows the street, and when we get there, the sign is thankfully prominent. Federal Hotel.

Right now, I'm drinking Fanta from the fridge in my room, finally showered, wondering what I'm going to do in Bangkok.