I’d like to share a random story from the other day. It occurred to me that my response to it contrasts a lot to what it would have been about 5 months ago.
The three of us, Dan, Pamela and myself, went to our squad’s favorite Pad Thai place. It’s one of those picnic table, local places that sits right next to a food market. We were finishing up our pad thai and spring rolls when I saw a little boy walking and dancing on the tables. He made some leaps precariously from one to the other. I honestly didn’t think much of it until a large paper airplane flew into my spring roll sauce. His aim was so accurate it was hard to be too angry at the little guy. I gathered that this wasn’t the first time he’d been jumping tables, throwing paper airplanes at unsuspecting foreigners. He might have been expecting more of a reaction other than handing it back to him. He retreives it and proceeds his jovial shinanigans.
And we proceed to chat a bit more when the same paper airplane hits Dan from behind. I can’t help but laugh a bit. This kid is relentless. There are overfed dogs lying to my right, a ladyboy serving food one picnic table restaurant up, and a kid throwing a paper airplane at us. Its ambiance contrasts a bit from most American milieu. But even more noticeable was how different I responded to the nuisance or disturbance to our meal. The thing I’m starting to see with situations like this and not being able to leave a continent because of political unrest in Bangkok, is that I really am not entitled to quiet meals, agendas always going according to plan or the ability to exercise whenever I want. They’re some of the suckiest lessons I’ve been learning, but I’m seeing it’s necessary.
Comfort, meals without disturbances, flights without airports shutting down and such are wonderful, but they are blessings. And really, sometimes a paper airplane in your spring roll sauce is the least of your problems — and sometimes helps you meet your laughter quota.
