Dear Indian Republic Day,

First of all, thank you soooo much for happening on a Wednesday this year. That was really cool. You changed Monday into Thursday, Tuesday into Friday, Thursday into Monday, but really the new Monday/Thursday was still Thursday so Friday was Friday. Which obviously made for two really short work weeks.

Even though I didn't get to go to your parade because there weren't any tickets left at the Ashok, I probably wouldn't have wanted to battle the masses for the seven a.m. arrival just to sit around and wait for the 9:30 start time. Also, since you wouldn't have let me bring my camera any way (security/schmcurity), I probably wouldn't have been that happy.

I did watch your parade on television though and as usual your pomp and circumstance was sensational. I loved the tanks, the fly-overs, the bands and the floats, but the stand-out this year was by far the float that showcased the Chemical Explosion Response Team. The giant papier-machee man with gas mask being escorted out of the chemical factory was cool. But because this was Indian Republic Day, you went over the top and had people on the float reenacting the whole scene live. Now, while some may say that showcasing an exploding chemical factory may be unsettling, I know that it's even more reassuring to know that if when it happens, the response team will be there.

Indian Republic Day, thanks for the day off. And thanks for the parade. But let's get to the main event. Thank you sooo much for barbecue in Malcha Marg.

Wowsers. A day off is great, but when the weather in India changes from the dismal winter cold to the beautiful (but short) spring, it's really great! To celebrate the weather (and Indian pride) we headed to the roof to cook some meat and enjoy the company of friends.

And just when it couldn't have gotten any better, it did. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the upswell in national pride or maybe it was the desire to eliminate carbs, but the conditions were perfect. We decided to go chemical explosion float and take it over the top.

I'm talking of course about the brotdog.





Indian Republic Day, without you, the brotdog wouldn't be blowing minds right now. I owe you one.

Deliciously over the top,
jason

Dear Strangest Hotel Experience Ever,

When we arrived at 8:30pm to your hotel, the Merisess, we thought we'd drop our bags and head out in search of some classic Bangkok street food. Then we'd settle in to your elegantly simple boutique hotel bed and drift off into sleep.

But, on that night, in that exotic city there was a mystery afoot.

We managed to slip right past you with our clever use of American Airlines frequent flier miles; your email receiving capabilities were tested to their limits. What to do? I maintained that we had a reservation and you maintained that you had a full hotel. The game was on! The way you made us wait for an hour while you picked up your magnifying glass, played your best Dr. Watson, scoured my voucher and your computer system for our reservation was truly captivating. And just when we started to question ourselves, you called in your Mr. Holmes, the Sherlock of the Sukhumvit. He encouraged you to check your "other email account" and sure enough, the mystery was solved. We had, in fact booked a room. But what to do? How to solve the mystery? The rooms were full!

Well luckily Mr. Holmes, the owner of the hotel, had another property across town. We were whisked into a taxi, the driver was told of the secret route and we were given the number of Mr. Mike.

Ah, Mr. Mike. The associate of our great problem solver. "Meet Mr. Mike in front of the Starbucks, which will be closed. He will take care of you from there." I have to admit, Strangest Hotel Experience Ever, at this point the scene from Pulp Fiction did creep into my mind. "Take care of us?" Were you planning on icing us? Or were you just going to put us into another hotel? When we pulled up in front of the 50+ story State Tower, I had the feeling that it would be the former, and not the latter. The State Tower IS NOT a hotel.

In his best Peter Lorre impression, Mr. Mike informed us that we would be staying in the boss's apartment that night. We were brought up to the 44th floor, given a key and entered a giant, furnished apartment. It was nice to look at, and had a great view, but it was very unsettling to see two bottles of water, hotel soap and cheap hotel towels on the counter. Our fears were not assuaged when you told us the the room was kept by the hotel for "emergencies" and that the "boss sometimes slept here." Your parting words of, "if you need anything, just go down to the front desk and ask them to call Mr. Mike" left us wondering just how exactly are you connected to our Sherlock Holmes? And also, how exactly does one become a Mr. First Namer? And what exactly was this place that you decided to send us to? The "emergency" apartment?

After checking every room, cabinet and closet to ensure that we weren't about to be killed, we wandered out to the balcony and looked down on the Shangri-La Hotel where we had first met. Fitting, just days after our one-year anniversary. And just then, fireworks shot up from a barge on the river. Huh. Strange.

After locking, dead-bolting and security bolting the door, we went to sleep. We woke up anxious to check in to the real hotel and called Mr. Mike. He asked us if we were comfortable during the night, we weren't sure how to answer the question and we headed back to the Merisess. Mystery solved, another success for the Great Holmes and Watson. We figured you'd be waiting with apologetic eyes, a fruit basket and a room ready. But that would have been too predictable, wouldn't it? That's not the way you do things. You slyly took the upper hand and had us wait for 30 minutes until the room was ready. Thanks for that.

Awkwardly uncomfortable still,
jason