Mind readers and missing cab drivers

I was on a mission to get drunk. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe because I was feeling a bit of anxiety as I waited to fly to Thailand last night. Maybe because I fasted the day before -- I do this once a week now -- and I felt like being a bit unhealthy. Whatever the reason, I headed to the nearest bar in the Singapore airport, which, by the way, is actually more exciting and interesting than the city itself.

I took a seat in the most comfortable chair ever found in an airport in the lounge near my gate and began consuming my beer at a rate one notch below chugging. I eyed three guys about my age strolling into the bar. I was craving conversation, so I hoped they would sit near me. They did.

Typically, I've found that conversations exchanging travel stories can sound like a broken record, but this one was particularly interesting. The path the three British guys were following -- Cambodia, Thailand, Singapore, Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Los Angeles. The route I was on -- Los Angeles, Fiji, New Zealand, Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Cambodia. So we did what travelers do -- exchanged advice. Every place they were going, I had been, and vice versa. "Stay here, avoid this place, take this bus, go to this bar."

Traveling is sometimes entirely too easy. I don't have a cell phone. I don't wear a watch. I don't own any guidebooks. I don't book anything in advance. I just talk to people. People are all I need to survive. We jotted down notes and e-mail addresses, exchanged handshakes, cheersed our beers, and headed opposite ways. Literally.

The flight was less than half full, so the flight attendant told me I could move to an open row to spread out a bit. I climbed over the kid next to me who I hoped would keep me company on the two-hour flight from Singapore to Koh Samui. Instead, when I went to spark the conversation, something like, "It's nice that we have these exit rows, you know, because of all the leg room," his eyes were already shut. I looked out the window, pretending I didn't say anything, hoping I didn't wake someone who apparently had little interest in partying on the plane with me.

So I chose an open row, folded up the armrests to create an in-flight couch, threw on my Ipod, and patiently waited for the beer cart, excuse me, beverage cart, to reach my row. I considered doing something unprecedented -- ordering two beers at the same time. I backed out at the last second, deciding I didn't want to risk starting off on the wrong foot with this woman. I recalled the time my friend Nate and I were cut off on a plane in Fargo North Dakota at 8:30 in the morning.

Luckily for me, this particular flight attendant could read minds. Not more than 30 seconds after handing me my beer, she wandered back to my row, holding yet another full, open beer can. I'm not sure why this was, aside from fate. There must have been 50 people on the flight, including several beer drinkers from my vantage point, and for whatever reason, she came to my row and asked if I was interested in an extra beer. I gladly accepted. I bobbed my head to the music, laughing and appreciating the little things in life. There's nothing bigger.

***

I arrived at the Koh Samui airport, which looks like a jungle with computers, feeling pretty good. As people stood frustrated in the customs line, waiting for their honeymoons to begin, I continued to listen to my music and pulled out a book. I don't know why I do this, but sometimes I think it's funny to pretend to be a speed reader just to liven up the moment a bit. I don't know if anyone noticed me flipping through the pages every couple seconds, but I was amused at myself nonetheless.

I told the taxi driver I wanted to head to Maenam, a part of the island close to the ferry I would catch in the morning to a smaller island.

"Which hotel?" He asked.

"Um, I don't really have one yet." It was 9:30 at night on an island I knew nothing about. I guess I get some sense of adventure out of risking having nowhere to stay.

Earlier in the day, I had lunch with three girls from Norway I had met in Sydney who coincidentally were in Singapore. They had been in Koh Samui and recommended a place called Maenam Village Bungalows. So I threw that name out at the driver.

I had a good chat with the driver. He was also 22 and taught me a bit of Thai. His English was not perfect, so a few times I just said, "yeah" without knowing what he said. A half hour later, we arrived at a hotel that had either the word "village" or "bungalows" in it, but not both. They had a room available, so I didn't ask questions. But they didn't accept credit cards, so my driver took me to the 7-11 up the road to use the ATM.

I never let my small backpack -- the one with my tickets, computer, etc. -- leave my site, but I'm typically pretty carefree with my large backpack that contains all my clothes. So I left it in the cab and crossed the street to get some money. When I turned around, the driver was gone. I stared down the street in both directions.

"You looking for a cab?" two Australian guys asked.

"No. I'm pretty sure my cab driver just took off with all my stuff."

"Holy shit," the two said simultaneously.

I wasn't too rattled by the loss of my entire wardrobe. It made for a good story at least. Material things are not important to me, right?

After several seconds of deep reflection about what I value, I saw my driver heading into the 7-11. He had parked the cab around the corner. He waved at me, held up one finger informing me he would just be a second, walked in the store, and then emerged with a beer in hand. I decided to follow in his footsteps.

As he drove me back to my hotel, we toasted our unopened beers. I asked if he was heading back to the airport. He said he was off for the night. I asked if he wanted to have a beer with me on the porch of the hotel.

"My girlfriend would be mad at me," he said.

He drove off as I cracked my beer open. I was alone again, craving conversation.