Red Rage in Bangkok

The red flag was up. About one million protesters and supporters of fallen Prime Minister Thaksin were supposed to march while we were there.

Well, our first day was peaceful—and fun. We decided to tackle the shops first, then the sights and sounds the next day. Nine people alternately bumped into and lost each other in a huge mall. Lunch at 3 PM was very Thai, very good.

We capped the day with another luscious Thai dinner in a place called Beach Banana and dessert at Swensen's (I deserve 40 lashes for succumbing to the lure of a scoop of creamy coffee ice cream).

The second day.

There was no second day. Every place worth going to was closed. The red march was ready to erupt. But the eruption was a dud. It didn't turn out the way the organizers touted it to be. Nevertheless, the damage was done to poor tourists like us.

Panic time. Where to find Bangkok's soul for re-telling back home? Where to buy those pasalubong? (coming home presents). The goods in the sidewalk around the hotel were not very promising. No tamarinds, no lanzones, no nothing.

In the nothingness, the gift of company came to the fore. An adequate spin around town. Long stretch of bonding in one of our rooms (complete with two TV sets, a receiving room, and all the acouterments one would ever need), and more gorging on luscious and spicy Thai food in the hotel, plus excited tamping of our colorful handcarry luggage (a gift for each of us from the big-hearted big boss, on top of the whole trip, that is).

At the airport at midnight, we reminisced over our authentic R&R, undiminished by the red heat.

For me, Bangkok is always an interesting place to be. On this last trip, it's where I found the grace of clients-turned-friends.

Could we have postponed the trip to a more peaceful date? We could have, but the fun, the blessings wouldn't have been as unique.