Trip Report: TG 126 BKK-CNX Y
Aug 10, 2006, 12:11 pm
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Join Date: Jul 2006
Posts: 210
Trip Report: TG 126 BKK-CNX Y
(Last time, I wrote an FT trip report and cross-posted it to my blog (www.knifetricks.blogspot.com). This time, I'm writing a blog entry and cross-posting it to FT.)
Trains, Planes and Unhappy Guards
"No seats," said the ticket clerk at the Bangkok railroad station. He swivelled the computer screen so I could see a spreadsheet listing all of the available seats on today's trains to Chiang Mai. Every cell contained a zero. Then he pulled up the spreadsheets for tomorrow and the next day. All zeroes.
That's not good, I thought. An air-conditioned first-class sleeper compartment on the train costs $37, but it's a twelve-hour journey. Buses are faster and cheaper but less comfortable because you can't lie flat and there's no privacy. One option seemed best.
I asked for a ticket to Don Mueang airport. It's scheduled to close at 3 a.m. on September 28, but, as of today, it's still Bangkok's airport. The clerk sold me a third-class ticket for 5 baht, which is 14 cents.
I got what I paid for. The train was haggard, an unpainted steel frame with thick, dowdy wood panelling that looked 50 years old. Metal seats circled the car facing each other. Two rows of rubber straps ran down the middle of the car.
One rickety black metal fan, screwed into the ceiling at the center of the car, moved back and forth. There was no air conditioning. The windows were large, all open, and anybody with the itch could lean out and be decapitated by an onrushing pole. This trip, however, was uneventful.
The train station was connected to the airport by a series of dirty walkways and overpasses. I found a Thai Airways ticket counter in the International Terminal and asked if there were any seats available to Chiang Mai today. The attendant consulted her computer and asked, "Seven o'clock OK?"
That's good, I thought. I purchased a one-way Y fare economy ticket on Flight 126 for 2,640 baht, which is about $71.
I walked to the Domestic Terminal -- easily half a kilometer away -- to obtain my boarding pass. As I noticed in Los Angeles, Thai Airways dedicated a lot of staff to the check-in counters. Most of the lines moved quickly. I was assigned Seat 40B.
As I walked to security, I noticed that everything about Don Mueang airport seemed tired. It was cramped, sagging and weary. The airport felt like it knew it had a good run but was ready to be kicked upstairs next month and assume the low-volume life of a government and VIP airport.
I put my daypack on the x-ray machine conveyor belt and walked through the metal detector. As I waited on the other side, the female guard at the scanner suddenly pointed to the x-ray of my daypack and yelled something loud and high-pitched in Thai.
That's not good, I thought.
Two female guards with stern looks immediately flanked me.
"Do you have knife?" one asked. Oh my God, I did, and I explained that I packed my Swiss Army knife. I thought I would be taking the train, for which there is no security check, and I had forgotten about the knife when I switched to flying. The guards took the knife, gave me a yellow "security item" receipt and told me to collect the knife from the airline after the flight.
As I waited for boarding, I learned about the foiled plot to destroy several U.S. airplanes departing from Heathrow, and I realized that the Thais would have been within their rights to have me spread-eagled on the floor with their guns drawn. And why exactly did I bring my Swiss Army knife for a one-night trip to the ritziest neighborhood in the country? Did I think I was going to get trapped in the wall between Prada and Hermes and have to cut myself loose?
The gate attendant called for the pre-boarding of elderly and handicapped individuals. Everyone rushed the gate at once. The flight was about 90% full.
The aircraft, named Sritrang, was an Airbus A300-600, a large, twin-aisled widebody. Quite a piece of equipment for a one-hour domestic flight. The craft was at least fifteen years old, according to thai-aviation.net, but the cabin was so fresh and clean that it felt like a newly delivered plane.
As we boarded the plane, white steam-like gas was coming out of all of the overhead vents, lending the plane a winter wonderland look. None of the Thais seemed to care, so I assumed this was standard. The cabin was hot but cooled as the air conditioning did its job.
The flight pushed back one minute late. The weather was drizzly, and thirty minutes passed before wheels up.
Within two minutes of takeoff, the flight attendants passed out boxed meals of greens salad, breaded chicken and a four-layer gelatin dessert. The meal came with fruit punch and water, and the flight attendants were serving coffee and tea from polished silver pots. I found an ant on the side of my meal box, and I thought it was an amusing reminder that, for all Thai Airway's aspirations, it was still the flag carrier for a developing nation.
Tired and full, I snoozed until the captain said we were landing at Chiang Mai. That's good, I thought.
Trains, Planes and Unhappy Guards
"No seats," said the ticket clerk at the Bangkok railroad station. He swivelled the computer screen so I could see a spreadsheet listing all of the available seats on today's trains to Chiang Mai. Every cell contained a zero. Then he pulled up the spreadsheets for tomorrow and the next day. All zeroes.
That's not good, I thought. An air-conditioned first-class sleeper compartment on the train costs $37, but it's a twelve-hour journey. Buses are faster and cheaper but less comfortable because you can't lie flat and there's no privacy. One option seemed best.
I asked for a ticket to Don Mueang airport. It's scheduled to close at 3 a.m. on September 28, but, as of today, it's still Bangkok's airport. The clerk sold me a third-class ticket for 5 baht, which is 14 cents.
I got what I paid for. The train was haggard, an unpainted steel frame with thick, dowdy wood panelling that looked 50 years old. Metal seats circled the car facing each other. Two rows of rubber straps ran down the middle of the car.
One rickety black metal fan, screwed into the ceiling at the center of the car, moved back and forth. There was no air conditioning. The windows were large, all open, and anybody with the itch could lean out and be decapitated by an onrushing pole. This trip, however, was uneventful.
The train station was connected to the airport by a series of dirty walkways and overpasses. I found a Thai Airways ticket counter in the International Terminal and asked if there were any seats available to Chiang Mai today. The attendant consulted her computer and asked, "Seven o'clock OK?"
That's good, I thought. I purchased a one-way Y fare economy ticket on Flight 126 for 2,640 baht, which is about $71.
I walked to the Domestic Terminal -- easily half a kilometer away -- to obtain my boarding pass. As I noticed in Los Angeles, Thai Airways dedicated a lot of staff to the check-in counters. Most of the lines moved quickly. I was assigned Seat 40B.
As I walked to security, I noticed that everything about Don Mueang airport seemed tired. It was cramped, sagging and weary. The airport felt like it knew it had a good run but was ready to be kicked upstairs next month and assume the low-volume life of a government and VIP airport.
I put my daypack on the x-ray machine conveyor belt and walked through the metal detector. As I waited on the other side, the female guard at the scanner suddenly pointed to the x-ray of my daypack and yelled something loud and high-pitched in Thai.
That's not good, I thought.
Two female guards with stern looks immediately flanked me.
"Do you have knife?" one asked. Oh my God, I did, and I explained that I packed my Swiss Army knife. I thought I would be taking the train, for which there is no security check, and I had forgotten about the knife when I switched to flying. The guards took the knife, gave me a yellow "security item" receipt and told me to collect the knife from the airline after the flight.
As I waited for boarding, I learned about the foiled plot to destroy several U.S. airplanes departing from Heathrow, and I realized that the Thais would have been within their rights to have me spread-eagled on the floor with their guns drawn. And why exactly did I bring my Swiss Army knife for a one-night trip to the ritziest neighborhood in the country? Did I think I was going to get trapped in the wall between Prada and Hermes and have to cut myself loose?
The gate attendant called for the pre-boarding of elderly and handicapped individuals. Everyone rushed the gate at once. The flight was about 90% full.
The aircraft, named Sritrang, was an Airbus A300-600, a large, twin-aisled widebody. Quite a piece of equipment for a one-hour domestic flight. The craft was at least fifteen years old, according to thai-aviation.net, but the cabin was so fresh and clean that it felt like a newly delivered plane.
As we boarded the plane, white steam-like gas was coming out of all of the overhead vents, lending the plane a winter wonderland look. None of the Thais seemed to care, so I assumed this was standard. The cabin was hot but cooled as the air conditioning did its job.
The flight pushed back one minute late. The weather was drizzly, and thirty minutes passed before wheels up.
Within two minutes of takeoff, the flight attendants passed out boxed meals of greens salad, breaded chicken and a four-layer gelatin dessert. The meal came with fruit punch and water, and the flight attendants were serving coffee and tea from polished silver pots. I found an ant on the side of my meal box, and I thought it was an amusing reminder that, for all Thai Airway's aspirations, it was still the flag carrier for a developing nation.
Tired and full, I snoozed until the captain said we were landing at Chiang Mai. That's good, I thought.
