I am a prolific writer. I'm not saying I'm a good writer but I am prolific. And, as such, sometimes I have to go through all my notebooks and rip out the pages that don't resonate with me. I was doing just this yesterday when I found a little memory from Thailand. Something that I would never have remembered had I not written it down:
Last night I was queuing up in 7/11 with a handful of snacks. A guy behind me started talking in what little English he knew. He asked me the basics like what my name was, where I was from. Then he told me in Thai that he would pay for my stuff. I tried to refuse but Thai people are very persistent. He told me was a policeman and I must've looked like I didn't beleive him because he then pointed to his hip and showed me his gun. I let him pay for my stuff and he asked me where I was going. I told him I had to meet a friend at the nightclub and he insisted on giving me a lift in his car even though the club was literally across the street. When I got into the car his girlfriend was there. I asked her what her name was in Thai and she was very sweet. They dropped me off and then waited for a couple of minutes before driving off.
A lot of strange things happened in Thailand but that one was up there along with the crazy ordeal of getting passport photos taken.
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