Today's theme: Making things much harder than they needed to be.

My flight was scheduled to leave Suvarnabhumi at 6:45 AM; Air Asia didn't open their check-in counters until 5:15. By this time there were veritable hordes of pissed-off travellers lined up and so I didn't even get to the counter until 5:45. Then I had an argument with the girl over whether or not I could get a visa on arrival in Vietnam. (You can, though it's less common and has to be arranged through a travel agency. Being as the Vietnamese embassy had been closed indefinitely due to being right in the middle of the riot zone, I chose the travel agent option.)

Then, obviously, my bags were far overweight and I had to go line up at a separate counter to pay for that.

Then I got to immigration, where I learned that they had stamped me with the wrong visa the last time I entered the country and so immi thought I had overstayed. I had to go off with a different immigration officer to explain the error. This is the fifth time, count 'em, FIVE TIMES that Thai immigration has fucked up on me.

I had not eaten prior to all this and was on the verge of a low blood sugar, which was actually really helpful at the time because low blood sugars can make people very cranky and argumentative. I needed a bit of that.

By the time all this was over and I'd cleared security, it was 6:10 and my flight had been scheduled to board at 6:05. In the 400 metres between my position and the gate I grabbed a sandwich and Diet Coke on the way by and was all set to claim diabetic necessity if I got in trouble for bringing outside food on the plane; however, I managed to eat both before the plane finished boarding.

Vietnamese immigration was no trouble, and I arrived safely at Azrael's house here without further incident, though my bad luck seems to have rubbed off as his girlfriend dumped him and his bird was stolen (honestly, who steals a bird???) in the few hours since I arrived.

now, eventually I decided to go to the supermarket, a taxi ride away. I had a receipt with my address on it so I could get back here. This turned out to be the wrong address and I ended up somewhere that was clearly my street, but far away from anything I knew. I showed a friendly motorcycle driver the address and he took me to a different place, which still wasn't right. Luckily on an earlier walk I had taken a photo of my street so I would be able to cross-check it if I got lost. I pulled out my camera and showed him that, he took me there, and then I realized I had no Vietnamese money left on me, so I gave him an American $5 bill. This was, I believe, far more than the price we had agreed upon, but I felt bad for not having the right money and he'd been very obliging, so, whatever.

Tomorrow I plan to see a dead guy and maybe take a walk around a lake.