The 500-Yard Dash

Oh, my friends. How I wish you would have been here to see what transpired this afternoon.

Maggie, Robbie, and I visited Bo Sang today, which is a village dedicated to making silk and paper umbrellas. We shopped and walked around, seeing a lot of new crafts that I hadn't found before, and of course visiting the umbrella workshop, where we got to see Thai men and women actually making these umbrellas by hand and painting them too. It was pretty cool to see, and the umbrellas were gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that it took me effectively forever to pick one out. Robbie and Maggie were making fun of me because I would pick one up, put it down, put it in my shopping basket, take it back out, and do the same thing with another one.

After a couple of hours we were ready to head back home, so we spent awhile trying to find a red truck taxi to get back to Chiang Mai. There aren't a lot of tourists near this village, so finding one was a real challenge, and once we did, we had some minor trouble telling them where we wanted to go. On the way home, therefore, I decided to document this adventure, and put my umbrella bag down, got out the ol' camera, and started snapping.

We reached our home street with food in mind. Maggie and Robbie piled out and I was quick to follow, realizing only as my feet hit the ground and the truck began to pull away that my umbrella bag was still in the truck! It was just bad luck that I happened to be wearing a flouncy, cute little skirt and a tank top today, because I immediately started running after the truck as fast as I could, waving my arms and screaming "STOP!" at the top of my lungs. I thought for sure that the driver or his wife (who was riding passenger) would have to see me. I was so conspicuous.

My bag was slowing me down. I threw it to the side of the street, praying that Maggie and Robbie would come pick it up. I ran another five yards--now my sandals were clearly slowing me down, and the truck was nearing the end of the street, about to turn left, where I would surely lose it. I kicked off the shoes, now tearing down the asphalt in my bare feet as fast as I could, and faster than I have run in a long time. The truck reached the corner--I was still a good 20 yards behind and it was starting to turn. I screamed louder. I overtook a couple scooters who were slowing for the corner and rounded it at full sprint. I chased the truck for about another 100 yards down the road, the futility of this chase setting in. I jogged to a stop, finally, my feet screaming in protest, and found a small patch of shade to give them a break from the scalding pavement. No sooner had I stopped and stared in vain at the back of the truck getting farther and farther away when a Thai man on a scooter pulled up short next to me and said something in Thai. I just flung my arm toward the taxi and wailed "My umbrella's in that taxi!" and he zoomed off after it without another word.

The next two minutes felt like ten. I had no shoes, no backpack, no umbrella, and no sight of Maggie and Robbie. My feet felt like they had just been shot with thirty small b-b guns and were imbedded with glass, and I couldn't do anything but wait for Maggie and Robbie to find me, hopefully bearing my shoes and backpack (in which was my money, ID, camera, etc).

Thankfully, they came through for me as I expected they would--Maggie's face came around the (distant) corner. I put my shoes back on, and we gave one last look toward where the taxi had disappeared then began walking home, despondent and resigned to wait around at the entrance to our road in the desperate hope that the taxi drivers might eventually see the bag and remember where we lived, when the man on the scooter appeared in front of us from around the corner, saying "The taxi comes back here now! They coming back!"

We all started yelling and cheering, and as that taxi came into view and pulled over, you would have thought it carried the King himself for the welcome we gave it. I grabbed out my bag, and we thanked the man and the taxi drivers again and again. It wasn't until we were walking home and Maggie and Robbie had started laughing that I realized exactly how I looked as I ran the 500-yard dash in my skirt and barefoot down Samlan Road, screaming my head off and waving my arms like a maniac. Apparently hilarious was how I looked. All of the shop owners and street vendors came out of their shops to watch as this unfolded.

I am pretty sure I gave those vendors and some scooter drivers quite a show.