PITY THE POOR GIRL

Recently I made a trip to Ko Larn off Pattaya.  I like boats and I like maritime environments and I like beach trips and I like the geography of the island.  It is all good.  I used to use Anna the tour director in the lobby of the A.A. Hotel to book trips for me at about 600 baht.  Parasailing opportunities were included, more boat trips were part of the package, and you got lunch served on the beach.  But then I discovered that for only 20 baht I could take the public ferry.  Boy oh boy, what a big difference in price.  Money that could be spent foolishly in some other trivial tourist way.  Anyway, recently I made a day trip to Ko Larn.

 

I am a nut about punctuality so I always get to everything early.  So I am on the ferry early waiting for it to leave.  What to do?  Well, I do the same thing everyone else does in situations like this.  I sit and look at all the other people.  There is a couple.  A foreign male and a Thai female.  He is attentive and obviously smitten and she is charming and very attractive.  He has a camera.  You can guess the rest.  He is taking picture after picture after picture of her.  Pictures of her leaning on the rail of the boat, pictures of her looking for something in her bag, pictures of her with and without sunglasses, pictures of her . . .  picture after picture after picture.

 

I am a nut about punctuality so I always get to everything early.  So I am on the ferry early waiting for it to leave.  What to do?  Well, I do the same thing everyone else does in situations like this.  I sit and look at all the other people.  There is a couple.  A foreign male and a Thai female.  He is attentive and obviously smitten and she is charming and very attractive.  He has a camera.  You can guess the rest.  He is taking picture after picture after picture of her.  Pictures of her leaning on the rail of the boat, pictures of her looking for something in her bag, pictures of her with and without sunglasses, pictures of her . . .  picture after picture after picture.  I pity the poor girl.  I want to scream at him to just stop.  Give it a rest.  Give her a break.  Grab the reins.  But of course only she can control him.  She needs to put her hand on his arm, and look him in the eye, and say:

"That's enough pictures for now."

 

"That's enough pictures for now."

 

But she does not do that.  It takes 45 minutes to get to the island and he takes pictures of her for 45 minutes.  Of course this public display of love and attention makes me feel slightly superior.  I would never behave that foolishly.  I would never abuse the poor girl by taking so many pictures, and I am not so needy that I cannot go anywhere without a stupid camera.  It's a beach and boating day.  Just relax.  I admit I have, sometimes regarding some things, a borderline rant personality.  This abuse of nice ladies, or worse, this boring of nice ladies with all this compulsive picture taking kind of drives me crazy.  This young attractive Thai lady has probably had to endure this nonsense since she was sixteen years old.  She must be bored and irritated.  And her boyfriend isn't winning any points.  How many pictures of this girl is he going to take?  A thousand pictures?  A million pictures?  A million million pictures?  I keep my mouth shut.

While negotiating with the mother and the son across the street from the boat landing that I use to give me motorbike trips, a female Thai tourist in their store hears the conversation.  She interrupts.  She would like to know how to get to the beaches, etc.  Could I help her?  We end up being taken to the beach together by the mother and the son.  She rides on the back with the big son.  And I ride on the back with the big mother.  We swim together.  We buy ice creams.  We have lunch.  We lay side by side on the lounge chairs and talk. We walk on the beach.  She shops for clothes.  We . . .  I am so dizzy from being with her that if you took your finger and pushed against my chest I would just fall over. 

I wished I had a camera.  I would have taken a million million pictures of her.

 

I wished I had a camera.  I would have taken a million million pictures of her.