Hunt The Wind

                  *     *     *     *     * The Flag of Laos. Vientiane, Lao PDR (People’s Democratic Republic) Wednesday, 22 nd November 1995      As I descended past 5,000 feet, I continued to slow  the 737 down, which had been leased to the Communist Laotian Government by a sleazy American operator working out of Miami.  Captain Dave, in the right seat, pointed out the Wattay International Airport on the north edge of the Laotian Capitol Vientiane, resting on the east bank of a bend at the Mekong River.      When we approached the muddy, mighty Mekong, with its scattered sand bars, Bangkok Control handed us off to Vientiane Approach Control.  Dave was handling the radio and verified we had the runway in sight, whereby Vientiane cleared us for the “Visual Approach.”   ...

                     *     *     *     *     *      Nai Tong Beach, Phuket, Thailand      Monday, 16 th October 1995      It was my 53 rd birthday, and the Wanchan sisters had me rent a Toyota jeep, and then guided me up Phuket’s west coast to an isolated, pristine cove called Nai Tong.  As the highway along the west coast, between Patong Beach and the airport, hadn’t been completed yet, Nai Tong, being halfway along the coast, remained hidden from the tourists.  Hence it’s beautiful, pristine condition.       And boy-oh-boy, dear reader, thanks to the sisters Wanchan, was I ever in for a birthday treat!       Originally I had met the Wanchan sisters at the Rock Hard go-go club, in Patong Beach on Bangla Road, a couple of mon...

                                                *     *     *     *     *                 Patong Beach, Phuket, Thailand           Thursday, 13th July 1995      After my participation in The Quest ( Van Damme’s turkey of a movie) things quieted down, as I happily fell into the peaceful rhythm of Phuket Island.      Even so, there were occasional surprises, such as this night when I had two unexpected visitors arrive at my town house.       My first visitor, Khun Som-Mai, appeared a little after midnight; coming from her frie...

*     *     *     *     *         Phang Nga Bay, Thailand      Thursday, 13 th April 1995      “YOU’RE DANGEROUS!”   Someone bellowed at me on a bullhorn.      I was standing in the wheelhouse of a rotting, sinking, Malaysian junk totally mystified.   Was he really addressing me?   How in hell could I possibly be “DANGEROUS”?      Glancing around, attempting to figure this dilemma out, I happened to notice that all the other extras had flattened themselves onto the deck behind crates.       One of them looked up at me and muttered, “For Christ sake you’re ‘DANGEROUS,’ dummy!   You’re in the shot...get down and hide!”      And at this juncture, dear reader, no doubt you’re wondering what in hell have I gotten myself into now?   In my defense, may I ...