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Flag of Thailand.

     Phuket International Airport, Thailand.

     Monday, 13^th May 1996

     It was early morning and I was standing in line, attempting to catch the first TG (Thai Airways) flight of the day to Bangkok.  

     I had just enjoyed five days off at Patong Beach, allowing me to set up my full-time return, as my contract with Lao was reaching its conclusion at the end of this month.

     As I restlessly stood in line to check in at the ticket counter, out of boredom, I engaged in one of my favorite activities: eavesdropping.

     Bear with me, dear reader.  Way back in the 1970’s, my aviation insurance agent, a swell guy from Canada, told me how he closed an important insurance contract with a company, simply by eavesdropping in a restaurant on his competition, and beating afore mentioned competition to the punch.  Over the years I’ve discovered this tip to be quite useful in crowded restaurants or airports.

     There was a smartly-dress, young, attractive couple, perhaps in their late twenties, standing in line in front of me, and by tuning-in on their conversation, I gleaned the following:

     This was their first holiday to Phuket; the man had an American passport, as did the woman, except she was Laotian; they were both attorneys and had recently opened a law office in Vientiane.

     When this young couple finally stepped up to the ticket counter, the TG Agent informed them that their flight to Bangkok had been cancelled.

     TG had a nasty habit of doing this, dear reader.  If the flight’s passenger load was too light, they’d cancel the flight and shove the passengers onto the next flight.  This is all part of “Amazing Thailand.”

     The young couple then asked about the next flight to Bangkok, and was told it would perhaps leave in three hours.  The young couple objected, as this would make them miss the only TG connection to Vientiane.  The TG Agent shrugged, and told them to plan on spending the night in Bangkok. 

     As the couple stepped away from the ticket counter, they discussed how they somehow had to get to Vientiane today, for an important client was coming to their office early tomorrow morning.

     At this point, hoping to come to their rescue, I stepped in and said, “M-Might I make a suggestion?”

     Both of them turned and looked at me.

     “W-Why not take the Lao Aviation flight to V-Vientiane at four this afternoon?”

     Both of them gave me a blank look, and after a moment the woman said, “We didn’t know there was such a flight.  But what if this next TG flight makes us late for the Lao Flight?  How would...”

     I held up my hand and stopped her, then said, “T-That Lao Flight will not leave Bangkok w-without me.”

     Both of them rolled their eyes; obviously they were addressing a nut-case.

     In all fairness, dear reader, I couldn’t blame them one little bit; because of my stutter and clothing.  Currently I was wearing my Patong Beach “uniform”: washed-out, wrinkled T-Shirt and shorts, flip-flops on my naked feet, and a back pack.  Honest to God, I resembled one of several thousand, broke, ragged-assed, doped-up, stuttering backpackers touring Thailand.  So why would any airline company hold a flight for me?

     After a very pregnant pause, with them closely scrutinizing me, as a last resort I added, “P-Please don’t be deceived by my appearance.  Trust me...that Lao Flight w-will not leave Bangkok without me on board.  Besides, w-what have you got to lose?  G-Go over there to the TG Ticket Office, and exchange your TG ticket for a Lao ticket on t-today’s flight.”

     Both turned to each other, shrugged, and then trundled over to the TG Ticket Office.

     After that I lost track of them.

     It was around Two P.M. when I landed at Bangkok’s Don Mueang International.  

     Hot-footing it to the nearest men’s room, I changed into my airline uniform: short-sleeve, white airline shirt with captain’s gold bars on black epaulets, gold wings and airline I.D. badge, black slacks and shoes, plus service cap with gold scrambled eggs on its bill.  I purposely traveled light, with merely a backpack, because my airline provided a room, at the Novotel in Vientiane, which was always held for me with the rest of my clothes.

Residing at the Novotel, in the bowels of Laotian Communism, with my Los Angeles T-shirt. 

     Ducking into TG Flight Operations, I stowed my backpack, picked up my flight case, along with Lao’s dispatched paperwork for my flight.

     Next stop was the special flight crew desk for Thai Immigration.  Where they checked my passport and airline I.D., then took my copy of the old Gen-Dec (General Declaration) I arrived in Thailand on five days ago.  Plus a copy of today’s Gen-Dec that I was leaving Thailand with.  Satisfied I was “kosher,” Thai Immigration waved me through.

     Next stop was the causeway entrance to Gate #34.  This was known as the “Chicken Gate” among aircrews, since a KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) was located there.

     After snagging a “Three-Piece, Extra Crispy, Meal,” I plopped myself down at a table where I could see the jetway at Gate #34.  A bit past Three P.M., as I was finishing up my lunch, the Lao Aviation 737 appeared, sliding easily into the jetway.  

Gate #34, the “Chicken Gate.  My B-737 sporting the new Lao paint scheme.

     At this juncture Lao Aviation was operating a single daily flight to Bangkok, similar to what TG was doing.

     Sipping my iced tea, I waited patiently as the Laotian passengers filed by from the arriving Lao Flight.  Consequently, bringing up the rear, I spotted what I was waiting for, jumped to my feet, stepped out into the hallway and flagged down Capt. Fred McNulty.

     Cap’n Freddy had brought in this Lao Flight and was headed for days off in Bangkok.  I was his replacement for the flight back to Vientiane, and was he ever glad to spot me.  Now he was relieved of duty and free to hit Bangkok; let the good times roll!

     We shook hands, and he told me, “The bird is clean,” meaning no significant mechanical problems; then hustled his pilot’s butt to town.

     I picked up my flight case, put on my service cap, and strode down to the passenger holding area at Gate #34.

     As I entered the holding area, right off I spied “my” young couple, sitting on the front row deep in conversation.  Without saying a word, I walked over to them, and merely stood there...waiting.

     The Laotian lady was the first to finally glance up at me.  At first she was totally puzzled.  Why was an airline captain standing in front of her...studying her?  Her husband was intently telling her something, when she abruptly froze and grabbed his arm.  Both stared up at me...did double takes and at last recognized me.  Upon which they broke into laughter...hence getting the joke.

     I motioned for them to stand and follow me, which they did, and as I led “my little lambs” to the gate, I flashed my I.D. at the gate agent and told her I was pre-boarding a couple of V.I.P.s.  The agent took their boarding passes and waved them through.

     When we got on board my 737, I placed them in first class seats and told the flight attendants to take special care of them.

     After I departed Bangkok and got up to cruising altitude, I had one of the girls bring “my little lambs” to the cockpit.  It turned out to be a real treat for them, never having had a captain invite them into the pilot’s office before.  

     Resembling “Alice in Wonderland,” they were mesmerized by all the instruments, switches, knobs and lights we pilots have to contend with, plus the view we possessed of the countryside sliding by outside.

     And as I pointed out the approaching Mekong River to them, the lady bent down, placed her small hand on my shoulder; then said in my ear, “Thank you so much, Captain...have I got a story for my grandkids...if ever I have any.”

     So you see, dear reader, eavesdropping isn’t necessarily rude or socially unattractive...sometimes it can be a lot of fun.

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