Casualties of war

The Thai Army posts the area around my school as a "live firing zone," which means no one can get in or out. Classes are canceled for a second day -- or a third, if you count the informal conference sessions that were scheduled for Sunday.

I am very glad that I chose to live way over here in Thonburi and not in one of the high-rise apartments near Silom, which are now under siege. Residents cannot even go out on their balconies for fear of being picked off by snipers. Water and electricity have been turned off in the red shirt areas, and businesses are shuttered.

Sunday evening a bunch of us hike up the road to a seafood restaurant for a wonderful sit-down feast that fills the table's lazy Susan. Conversation is all about the havoc that will ensue if the school remains closed. Most students have firm exit plans: jobs to get back to, visa limits, places to be. But Cambridge cannot issue our CELTA certificates if we do not log the requisite hours of observed teaching practice or receive key training. Will we have to complete the course somewhere else? If so, will it cost extra? A few students are running perilously short of cash already.

So much violent civil unrest, so many lives turned upside-down, and all I can think about is: "This stuff's not going to wreck my vacation plans next week, is it?"

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A few of us agree to meet up later at Warren's to play some cards. I get there a little late and Aussie Brett comes down to the lobby to let me in. On the way up in the elevator he warns me: "Mike brought a girl. And then left her."

Sure enough, there's this scorching-hot Thai babe in tight jeans, a white thong peeking out the back and a low-cut black sweater that demands: "You must stare at these breasts." Warren offers her a beer and she promptly reaches for the biggest bottle in the fridge. Why did Kiwi Mike bring her here? And where did he disappear to? So we sit around the dining room table playing 21 until he gets back a half-hour later. He fell in a mud puddle, he said, and had to go home and change; his right arm is still caked in mud. The girl glares at Mike, but he ignores her and sits down to play cards. So she goes to the couch and pouts.

Finally Kiwi Mike is ready to go clubbing (which might be an idiotic thing to do in war-torn Bangkok). At the door, the Thai hottie says: "See you, guys. Next time I bring three friends."

"Bring four," I joke. But her eyes brighten.

"Oh, you like sandwich?" she says, not meaning the type you get from the deli.

Uhhhh. I look at Mike. "Do I have my fear face on?" I ask him.

"You should," he grins. "Her friends are high-end vampires."

They disappear into the night and I proceed to lose 60 baht (about two bucks) to Warren and Aussie Brett in Texas hold 'em.

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The one silver lining in this whole school-closure debacle is that I get some breathing room in my schedule to complete assignments and polish lesson plans. And that is what this day will be about.