BANGKOK ON A VISA

"I'll see what I can do" said The Voice, 30 minutes before the embassy closed down for the day.

She came through at 5:02 pm after a brutal day at the freezing halls of an Imeldific floating volume of concrete where support for gender equality in the energy transition was expounded.

It was a huge relief, a comforting bowl of Nagoya pork ramen with raw sea urchin gonads on the side. 

That evening, a carnal dream fidgetted with darkness so intense it induced a specialized travel pouch tucked in a hotel safe and a leather satchel entrusted at the airport lavatory to squirt the detailed outline of the game plan in Bangkok for a recipe of a heavenly Tom Yum soup with a platter of Moo Pad Prik that cheered a roadside parade of red plastic chairs and tables.

The Virtuous appeared confused and Miss Universe has not slept in the last 2 days.

Thus was how The Moderator stepped into the 7th floor of Chulalongkorn University to ease a roundtable about the equitable extraction of critical minerals before slipping out for an appraisal on strategic business develoment in a virtual longtable of Moo Grob and Sai Ua that extended down to the basement of the Siam Center. 

The inbox was mined at the breakfast buffet of the Mandarin Hotel where misplaced phones are also displayed.

Aid diversion, terrorist screening, fraud control, and forex losses were in the menu.

The Rubenesque Volunteer watched over an inception meeting as the working girls of Nana argued about phasing out fossil fuels, loud enough to disorient the trains that run on Phad Thai and Leng Saeb.

Back at Chula, qoutes were extracted from long speeches.

"An Asia that should be for everyone" echoed during the long walk back to reveal curvaceous and buxom blurs.

The sky finally cried as forecasted, and rained with Moo Sam Chan Tod Nam Pla and what is called a condensed egg.

The visa is good until January 2027 but for a single entry only. 

So complimentary drinks, noodles, and a fruit basket were packed but a slab of expensive swiss chocolate was left in the fridge for the barefoot housekeeper.

At the Suvarnabhumi Airport, I was tempted to invite the most exquisite natural beauty I've encountered to share a lunch of bananas. 

But I got distracted by The Mature-ILF so no, I don't actually need a visa to Bangkok for the next trip. 

Said so our tattooed barkeep in Bakal 2.