Night Train to Bangkok

Night Train to Bangkok

Think of "Murder on  the Orient Express" where the characters travel  in sleeping cars, the woodwork polished, the fittings brass, the seats,velvety and plush. There's  a smallish bathroom for nightly ablutions and a comfy bed  that a sharply dressed porter lowers when the characters are ready to  retire. "Doez anyzing mar your purrfect  happinezz,   Monsieur Poirot?

Remember Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint sharing that stateroom in "North By Northwest" a space big enough for her to hide him from the police and for them to engage in unseen but intimated sex acts symbolized by that subtle shot of the train entering a tunnel?

Didn't you just want to join the party when Jack Lemmon as Daphne joins all the other girls in Sugar's spacious  upper berth to share the contents of her flask in "Some Like It Hot?" and there's enough room that no one detects his obvious excitement?

Ah  overnight train travel....in movies so romantic, elegant, sophisticated ...with a touch of humor . We're enjoying it right now in a comedy-thriller I call "Night Train to Bangkok."

The story opens as we wait in the Chumpon Railway Station for the train to arrive, enjoying the lack of breathable air and the thrill of the chase as we watch a gekko stalk moths and flies on  the ceiling of the"VIP" Waiting Room. (You doubt? I have a picture of the sign under which a drunken man sleeps and snores.)  Kate and Nell's 5 baht trip to the ladies room is money well spent. Not only do they get toilet paper, they are treated to the sounds of the woman in the next stall showering  with the bidet nozzle.  When several

 Muslim men vocalized the  news that they were in love with Nell, we wonder why the heck we'd ever want to leave this place. Yet when the train rumbles in only 50 minutes late and we dash to the exclusive  "reserved sleeping car" with all the other high hats in the crowd..and our friend from the VIP Waiting Room. We lose sight of the gecko in the stampede.

Upon entraining, we are surprised to discover that the sleeping component of this ten hour journey is underway. Why, no need to summon the porter to retire, Mon. Poirot. ..it's supper and  bedtime all at the same time.. right now..at 8:00.  No more sitting up. We struggle to find our seats  and deal with the bags but its hard with all the people entering the car,those  looking for the bathroom or the vendors peddling soup to people already ensconced in their bunks . This last group eerily peek out at us  through the partings in their curtains.  Their eyes have the wet sadness of those abused puppies pleading for relief through wire  cages  in SPCA public service announcements.

Unfortunately, , as our representative from Naga Travel had warned us, an interloper had usurped my seat and has to be shooed out by a porter we manage to flag down when the man keeps pretending he doesn't understand why I am bothering him. I've used this same trick when stopped for speeding so don't fuck with me, old man. After some stalling he shuffles off to a less exalted section. Following our  initial introduction to first class, I experience a twinge of sympathetic imagining whatThailand Railway has in store for him in second--a hay bale in a cattle car or a meat hook in a refrigerated locker maybe?

The porter takes the opportunity to lower my bunk, the upper one, but not happily. The friendly man who will spend the night under me tells me where to store my shoes. Obviously  he wants to get our relationship off on the right foot so I oblige, stow them neatly out of the aisle, and hoist myself into the slender padded shelf that is my home for the next ten hours. It's not so easy to get up here so I abandon the notion of tooth  brushing for the night.  I'm comforted by the sturdy  vinyl straps which serve to prevent my rolling off onto the floor and by the antiseptic smell of the tired pillow and limp thermal blanket provided for my travel comfort (it was more like a giant towel). I assure myself that with practice I can learn to roll over up here without scraping my nose on the ceiling.Because Kate and Nell are in adjoining top bunks, we can  slide our nylon curtains back to  make sure the other two haven't deserted us and jumped ship. Adversity can wreak havoc with unit cohesion. 

Travel is so broadening. I now have much more sympathy for the plight of carry-on luggage knowing how it feels when we cram it into those overhead bins on the plane. I'm shoehorned into a tiny nook near the ceiling. I can't see out. The train stops..Are we at a station or broken down in the wilderness? Loud thumps shake the train..is that a Thai family on a moped under the wheels?   I hear people passing out there behind my curtain but don't know who if they are rail employees, thieves or killers...or a vengeful old man who wants his seat back.  Will the contents of my stomach shift during the journey? 

I found out at 4:30 when the porters ran through the car shouting "Moning... moooooning"  announcing the end of our slumber party. "Up, up!" They thump on our bunks. The conversion to regular train seats commenced apace and god help you if you were still in bed when they got to you. You could be folded into a permanent  part of the train.  The line for the restroom grew out of all proportion to the usefulness of a bathroom that lacks all water sources. We stumble into the Bangkok morning, squinting,  wrinkled, fuzzy mouthed, and quite amused. Feeling thoroughly broadened, having experienced a night train and an incubator in the same ten hours.