We’re Airborne
Get off this plane now.
But it was too late. Thai Airways Flight TG 911 was preparing for take-off. Rather an unfortunate flight number, given the events in America in 2001.
The 747 jumbo let loose the power of its four engines with a roar. With the brakes released, all 340 or so passengers — including me — were forced back into their seats. We were leaving London Heathrow’s runway 2 and starting our ascent into the mid-morning sky.
I gulped down yet another complimentary double scotch. I was still somewhere over Europe, still in that seat, but my mind had already left the aircraft. Thoughts of what would be waiting after 13 hours of flying were beginning to worry me. Had I really thought my situation out properly? Hoping the scotch would help me relax on what I feared would be a long flight into the unknown.
I was flying to a blind date with a woman I had met on an internet-dating site. She had invited me to Thailand on two previous occasions. I declined them both. This time, for reasons I was still uncertain of, I had decided to take up her offer. But was I thinking straight?
I was facing a financial and personal crisis that I couldn’t see my way around. After 16 years, like so many other marriages, mine had suddenly hit a brick wall.
The only matter that remained following the divorce was the sale of the matrimonial home. This was becoming a protracted and tiresome issue. I was lucky to some extent. The house was large enough for both of us to live separate lives. I lived in the self-contained granny annex. It became my sanctuary after the decree absolute.
She lived in the main house. My routine was returning home late in the evening after a long day at the bank. And, like many fathers, seeing my young son only at weekends.
Few Opportunities to be with My Son
My ex-wife, however, seemed to be making sure my son was committed to doing something else whenever I was present. She was leaving me very little time with him. I could see that this was going to be the pattern for the future. The only occasions I had with my son were when she decided she wanted to go out on the town. In her eyes, I was just the convenient unpaid baby-sitter.
If I were ever delayed through being caught up in a traffic jam, she was always quick to point the nagging finger. Saying I didn’t care a jot for my son. If it spoilt her planned excursions into the night, it was always down to me.
My neighbours, whom I had known for years, often saw me driving at break-neck speed to return home. Screeching down our drive just as she was bundling Michael in the car to dump him at a friend’s home.
Nothing was going to spoil her own prearranged evening soirée. My son would be left, without company of his own age, with an elderly couple he hardly knew.
Jane could do as she wanted. I could not even be two or three minutes late. My neighbours were sympathetic and could see what was going on. However concerned they were, there was nothing they could do to counter the devious game she was determined to play.
We had had some good times together and she didn’t lack for anything a young bride could wish for. I had a good managerial job and every penny of my salary was spent on our home. I bought every modern expensive appliance she wanted. She wanted everything that I had provided for our lives together to remain solely with her. And that included Michael.
She did not want me to be part of our son’s life. That was the rub. I was seeing a side of her that I had never seen before. I still don’t understand why she was so scheming and had so much venom in her blood. Were her friends egging her on to cause trouble?
The days passed by as we waited for a buyer to be found for the home. She appeared to be disinclined to sell, always putting on a sour face when potential buyers were viewing the property. The days turned to months. The months into years.
Living in this way and trying to hold down a job at the same time was not easy. My health began to suffer. I collapsed in the office twice in as many weeks. Each time I got up and carried on with the job. I was never one to give in. My colleagues told me I needed to see a doctor. I made an appointment for the next day.
I had never seen my doctor so concerned. After taking my blood pressure and checking my pulse, he asked me questions about my lifestyle and what problems I had. Without saying a word, he wrote out a prescription to help with my obvious stress. My doctor insisted I stop work for at least a month.
I Felt Isolated and Bored
My lodgings now became my prison. I diligently took the medication prescribed but found myself sitting alone, staring out of the window into the garden for hours at a time. My mind was in turmoil. This was the first time in my thirty-four year working life that I had ever been signed off work by a doctor. I regularly worked long hours, even after the bank had closed its doors.
I wasn’t like the big bosses who seemed to find ways of increasing charges and fees to customers. I had known my customers for many years; some had become friends. My customers relied on my advice and my door was always open if they had problems. I did not mind working hard if I could see they benefited from my efforts.
Now, my life was at a standstill. I had pleaded with my doctor not to keep me from work. That was my only outlet for normality. He refused, saying he would review the situation after one month.
During my forced incarceration, I sought refuge in my computer. It was to become my lifeline. Music from my CD collection was my sole companion. Sport and news on my small television set were my only contacts with the outside world.
Surfing the net one day, I stumbled on a travel site about countries in the Far East. There was a clip of people enjoying what seemed to be a very hassle-free and happy existence. No worries, no stress, everyone appeared to be living a life without a care in the world. How I wished my life could be like that. Why can’t everyone live in that sort of harmony?
Totally different from my situation: sitting in front of a computer, not knowing what the future was holding for me, nothing to look forward to.
I surfed a bit more in my boredom. Then, somehow, I got onto a Thai social networking site and started chatting with some people. I started feeling less lonely. Someone out there was caring enough to talk to me.
A lady called Tasanee was online. Obviously Thai, but I had no idea how you would pronounce her name. I laughed aloud when she wrote that she also had a nickname and was called Toy by her friends. We have nicknames in the West, of course. I had one in school but I’m not telling you what it was.
That was my first contact with Toy and the first time I had laughed aloud for a very long time.
My first excursion into Thailand, albeit a virtual one over a computer connection, was a positive experience for me. My life was returning. Or was I clutching at straws?
Toy was a 39-year-old teacher from the northern Thai province of Chiang Mai. She had one daughter; I had one son. I didn’t know the detail but sensed she’d gone through a rough patch in her marriage. Her husband had died, he said, in a road accident. Being ten years widowed, she had thrown herself into her teaching and bringing up her only daughter, Kanya.
Toy Wanted a Foreign Husband
From our messages online, Toy came across as someone who genuinely wanted to settle down and enjoy a warm family life again. And at the time I didn’t think I was wrong in my judgment.
Later, I found it was Kanya who was encouraging her mother to “find a new husband for yourself and a father for me. Let’s be a family together again.”
It took me a little time to realise — and perhaps I still don’t fully understand — that a strong factor for Thai women in choosing a marriage partner is the security that it can bring to both themselves and their families.
Slowly, Toy began telling me about her married life with her late husband, Somchai. Her marriage to a Thai man had not been without its problems. She was going to be cautious about any future friendship and not make another mistake in her life.
Realising that a life without Kanya as her companion was fast approaching, she saw the logic of her daughter’s words. Kanya was becoming more self-confident and sooner or later would be making her own way in life. Toy had to start looking at her own future.
Richard — I don’t see him that often — told me that Thai women are submissive to their men. They’ll never argue with them and always do as they say. He said it’s a cultural heritage based on their feudal roots. I don’t think, with his limited knowledge of Thailand, that he can make those claims. It’s not my experience.
It was with Kanya’s help that Toy had found this social networking site. Actually, it was more like a dating agency to meet farangs.
Toy and I chatted a lot over the next six months, getting to know each other better. Behind the scenes, I later found out, Kanya was vetting some of the contacts on her mother’s behalf. Sometimes, when Toy was busy, Kanya was replying to emails and instant messages herself. Including mine!
Perhaps I should have seen that as a possible red light and thought more deeply about it. But I did not.
Toy was six thousand miles away, but for me it was as if she was sitting right next to me. I thought that a certain chemistry was beginning to develop between us. And we had never actually met! We started to understand our different national cultures. Much later, I was to learn a lot more about the big differences between Thais and foreigners.
Why Not Come to Thailand
“Why not come Thailand. We meet each other?” I suppose that the question was bound to crop up at some point, but I was still a bit wary. It was a long way to travel. Although I had travelled before, this was going to be my first long-haul trip. I admit to some fear and trepidation. I thought of many reasons why I could not go at this time.
The house had still not been sold. I had to consider how best to maintain my relationship with my son in the difficult circumstances that my ex-wife was creating.
I wanted to meet Toy and Kanya, but how would I cope having to leave and resume my granny annex existence? My mind was not clear on what I should do. Would there be difficulties in being in a relationship with someone from another country? I declined the offer. Many foreigners had not been able to adjust to life in the Tropics. I knew as much from my trawling on the internet and chatting online.
The Christmas after my divorce was like an ordinary day of the week for me. Sitting on my own, allowing the contents of a bottle to block out the unhappiness I felt. The TV’s usual seasonal merriment failed to make any impression on me. Soon the programmes were a blur and I drifted into an alcohol-induced sleep.
I had been divorced for three years when Toy suggested for the third time that I visit her in Thailand. Having experienced the saddest days of my life, I accepted. I had to do something positive. Where else was my life heading?
I booked a ticket for 10 March. Her fortieth birthday was on the fourteenth and I was determined to celebrate the event with her. I wanted to repay, in some small measure, the consideration she had been showing me during our chatting and messaging. I had no idea how birthdays were celebrated in Thailand but I was resolved to make it a happy occasion for her.
But now, our Thai Airways flight TG 911 bound for Bangkok was airborne. The scotch was doing its best. My thoughts were not.
Was I taking a big chance on this blind date? Would others have booked and paid for a long-haul flight to meet someone they’d never met face to face? Had I completely thought this position through? Was the nastiness of my divorce clouding my rational thinking?
And that was when the voice inside me kept saying:
Get off this plane now.
