This whole trip to Thailand really has me thinking about what terror is. Not the terror we’re having shoved down our throats by Bush and his cronies, but rather, the sense of fear that makes you say, “Oh shit, what was I thinking?”
I’ve realized that:
- terror is not flying 10,000 feet over the ocean in a tiny metal tube (despite the supposed ‘flotation devices’ I’ve heard so much talk about and yet have never actually seen!)
- terror is not watching as the flight attendant gives the man next to you a personal demonstration about how to use the life vest and oxygen mask while the rest of us watched it on our personal TV monitor (although it did shake me up until I realized his screen wasn’t working)
- terror is not seeing this sign in the airport in Taipai
terror is not even driving at 100 km/hr in a tiny little Taxi Meter (metered taxi cab) down a rain-slicked freeway, feeling the car being jerked back into our lane just after seeing the drivers eyes CLOSED in the rear-view mirror from the back seat (although that really did get me pretty darn close to feeling terror!)
No, no, my friends. NONE of these things made me feel terror. However what did elevate me to a true sense of terror was dropping a stitch ON PURPOSE while knitting Cleo the Clapotis and watching it unravel right before my eyes (that bamboo is REALLY slippery yarn!).
True terror is looking at how much time I’ve spent with Cleo and seeing only this much done and WAY more to go.
THAT is terror…
Now we’re off to Pattaya, the infamous sex resort town and the only place in all of Thailand that’s reputed to be dangerous. (Clearly it’s not my idea!) let’s see what other forms of terror we can encounter…