So there I was on Saturday evening, congratulating myself on booking flights and seats for the Imogen Heap concert in Singapore. For some reason my mind went through an early “tickets, money, passport” check; and got stuck on passport. What was wrong? I certainly had a passport, and I had recently renewed my retirement visa and…oh dear.
When you obtain a retirement visa to stay in Thailand, you can remain in the country for a year. But if you want to venture out of the country during that year, you need a re-entry permit; something that is obtained after you have the main visa; and something I had yet to queue up for. As things stood, I could fly to Singapore, but when I came back without a re-entry permit, I would be given a tourist visa and have to start the retirement thing all over again. This would involve flying out to a Thai embassy in another country within 30 days and then coming back in and plodding through the retirement visa paperwork all over again. Just too much money, time and hassle. I had to get a re-entry permit before my flight at 1120 on Monday morning or else I would not be going; but it was late on Saturday and immigration closes on Sundays. It looked like Ms. Heap’s concert was not to be; and I had just dropped a pile of cash on air and concert tickets for nothing. Oh dear indeed.
A couple of years ago you could purchase your re-entry visa at the airport, but that facility had been withdrawn. She who must be obeyed had a contact in airport immigration and gave him a call to confirm this. He said he thought it was now possible again, but he could not confirm until he went on duty on Sunday evening. Willing to give anything a try, I decided to drive up to the airport after lunch on Sunday and see if I could get the permit. I was going to have lunch with SWMBO at her office before the trip, and as I drove to meet her I was feeling very stressed and thinking about what the hell could go wrong next. “How about this?” said my truck as it dumped its power steering hydraulic fluid on the road and immediately required the same strength to turn the steering wheel as a vintage Massey Ferguson tractor. Oh dear.
Dumping my newly acquired tractor at my wife’s office, I stole her car and headed for the airport. The roads were thick with traffic returning to Bangkok after the weekend; so the journey took a while, but eventually I was heading for the immigration office in the airport, which our contact had told us was on the second floor. It wasn’t. I went to tourist information and they directed me to the fourth floor where eventually I found a small office marked “VIP Immigration”; and it was closed. Back down to tourist information who tried to phone immigration somewhere in the bowels of the airport; they didn’t pick up. I called SWMBO, she made some calls and eventually found someone in the immigration office who was not asleep. They confirmed that they had not provided re-entry permits for two years. Oh dear.
So after wandering the fetid halls of the airport for an hour or so, I was on my way home. I picked up an iced coffee for SWMBO on the motorway, she doesn’t seem to mind if the coffee has then sat in a car for an hour, and made my way back into Pattaya. Just turning into the back road that runs parallel to the beach and the fuel light came on; accompanied by an internal light that flashed and said “need to pee real soon”. No problem, in twenty minutes I could be in a garage and both problems could be solved. Then the traffic stopped.
The back road has the advantage of being almost empty. Except on this day when there was some event in the area and I was suddenly in a huge queue of traffic going nowhere. I turned off the engine to save what little fuel I had left and sat there sweating; worrying about my empty fuel tank and my full bladder. For one feverish moment I considered resolving the issue by transfering the contents of one into the other. But there was the issue of cultural sensitivity; sticking your dick in a fuel tank in the middle of a traffic jam would not go down well with the conservative Thais (would not have been a problem in Union Street, Aberdeen). Plus, I don’t recall the sticker on the fuel filler cap saying “Octane 91 and/or piss”. Then my eyes fell on the coffee cup….
Twenty minutes of no engine and therefore no air-con, had turned the coffee into a rather unpleasant foamy mess; she who must be obeyed would not be drinking that. So I felt justified in opening the door an inch and pouring the mocha bocha frappubinto onto the road. Then, with awkward contortions to ensure all relevant body parts were kept out of sight of fellow motorists, I filled up the cup again. Oh the relief; and so glad that I had purchased a “Grande” size and not the feeble “Pico”, or whatever it is that Starbucks call the smallest size, to disguise the fact that you are paying half the daily minimum wage for a tiny plastic cup into which a minute amount of coffee has been dribbled. Not big enough to pee into, that is for sure.
Eventually we were moving again and I made it to the garage to fill up the car and surreptitiously dispose of some unwanted “coffee”. SWMBO called:
Did you get my coffee?
Good news and bad news. The good news is that I got your coffee. The bad news is that it turned rather warm and changed colour. I thought of a way of making it brown again; but it would not have improved the flavour so I junked it, sorry.
So, home again and feeling rather despondent. Seemed to be no way I would make my flight; but I had to try.
0800 on Monday morning I was queuing outside Pattaya immigration for the 0830 opening. Annoyingly, an American was in front of me, and he was also after a re-entry permit He spent a loud half hour complaining about all the idiots who came to immigration with incomplete paperwork, and was then promptly turned away for having forgotten to photocopy the first page of his passport. Hah! So I was in the lead and by 0835 I had the stamp and had paid my money; just had to wait for the cashier to do her bit. But she had decided to come in late, then needed a coffee (I should have kept my special for her), then a chat with a passing friend; and it was 0850 before I was out of the door; still much sooner than I had hoped.
The traffic was light and I arrived at to the airport just in time to run to the Thai Airways counter before they closed the flight, I had made it! Handed in my ticket and waited for my boarding pass. Nothing happened. Phone calls were made. I enquired as to the problem. All passengers to Singapore have their details sent electronically to Singapore, and the Singapore computer sends back the permission to fly. The computer connection had gone down. Days passed and I imagined the aircraft door closing. Eventually they gave me my ticket and said they would advise Singapore by smoke signals or something. I ran, a sweaty mess, to the gate and fell into my seat; one of the last to board. The doors closed and the aircraft pushed away from the gate; at which point I realised that I really, really needed a pee.
This Imogen Heap woman better be worth it.
Comments 🔗
2010-03-30| Billy saysMaybe it is God telling you to get a work visa … and a job to go with it?
A. Theist
2010-03-30| Qon sayswatch her on youtube and call it a day (jmho) ;)
2010-03-30| genuinej saysI trust all this toing and froing proved to be worthwhile and you didn’t end up even more pee’d off. Interesting reading tho’. Great moneysaving suggestion from Qon as well.
2010-03-30| Audemars saysI’m not going to have another Starbucks Grande again…unless I think I’ll be needing a pee somewhere, stuck in some traffic.
2010-03-31| Spike saysBilly, The Church of the Seven Day Hedonists, of which I am a proud member, specifically prohibits the undertaking of “work”.
Qon, and you would recommend a postcard of the Grand Canyon rather than visiting it?
genuinej, worth every bit of hassle, she is something special.
Audemars, you should be OK with the coffee; just avoid their yellow snowcone special.
2010-03-31| Billy saysAs usual you inspire me to get off my arse and do something .. currently investigating when the paths of Uriah’s daughter and myself next cross .. and she had better be as good as you advertise or I shall be reporting you to the Seventh Day Hedonists (their motto by the way? - “Liars get a Yellow Snowcone Special up the botty”) …
2010-03-31| Spike saysAs I write this, she is playing Jakarta!
Understand she plans to come back to Singapore and Jakarta later in the year.
There is a subsidiary motto: “good boys get a Yellow Snowcone Special up the botty too”
2010-03-31| Spike saysMeantime acquire “Ellipse” and play it endlessly.
2010-03-31| Billy saysAh, that will be the priests then … the SDH are of course an 18th Century splinter group from the Holy See … old habits (sic) die hard
2010-04-01| genuinej saysSpike,taking your advice,I’ve listened to some of IM’s offerings but can’t get into her, so to speak. I much prefer Sarah Vaughan. With regard to the Grand Canyon, I’ve never seen it or a postcard of it. Is there much difference? (other than size, of course.
2010-04-01| genuinej saysp.s. )
2010-04-01| Spike saysThe main difference is that a postcard is made from wood pulp and the Grand Canyon is made from rock. Other than that, they are pretty much i
2010-04-01| Spike saysP.S. dentical