As the taxi arrived so very early that Tuesday morning it soon became very clear that the once hopeful and lively Suvarnabhumi airport was now hollow and full of contempt. I removed my bags from the cab, paid the driver and started my walk to enter the huge complex. The gatekeepers seemed to be happy about my arrival, but that was about all of the ”the country of smiles” that still had survived this place, for rest of it I was met with distaste and whiplashes. The once smiling Thai people had started falling from their grace and I could only guess why: Being built on the loose grounds of tourism this was an empire on it’s way to collapse. At first it had seemed to have been a good idea to accept the sweaty bundles of money that the white, fat, rich men had so much of, but as the years passed it seemed like less of a good idea and then it was suddenly too late, the Thai had already started to sell out small pieces of their very core and they didn’t want to admit that they had done that so they put on blindfolds and continued. The white men bought their bodies, their hearts, their genitals, and soon, when one called for the soul inside of these people — where are you? — there was only an echo left.
When ordering food I was met with distaste, when buying a bottle of water I was met with distaste, when asking for some general information in the information counter I was met with distaste and so it continued and we all felt it and we all wanted to leave immediately. We, the few Europeans left, now being shuttled back to Europe on repatriation flights. We who had thought ourselves to be kings and queens in this country, throwing money to either side for smiles, cheap electronics and handjobs, we were now nothing but small goats running in silent panic back to our pinfold. Our daddy farmer was the EU and its several officials, waiting for us there at aisle H, at the counters of 15 through 18. I grouped up with a couple of Swedish young hippies, much like myself I guess, and I thought out loud: ’Aren’t we lucky to have a daddy farmer like this?’ But this reflection was met with rejection and someone even uttered something contemptible about the ’fucking institutions’. What a small goat he is, I thought, I am sure he wouldn’t want to be wandering around without his daddy farmer at this point.
The hours and even days passed and the panic changed into hopelessness and despair. Eventually there were a few empty seats on one embassy flight leaving for Frankfurt and we got those and everyone was happy to soon be back in the pinfold.