I had my day all worked out. I wanted to
get a tuk tuk to the Moh Chit train station, buy a ticket to Chiang
Mai, explore the giant market below the station, take the Skytrain to
Siam Square, and get a Khlong (river taxi) back to Banglamphu. The tuk tuk driver, however, had a different plan.

Instead of the government train station, I was taken to a travel
agency. I figured I might as well shop around, anyway, he did at least
tell me in advance where we were going, and promised it would be
included in the same price he’d originally quoted me for Moh Chit. I
didn’t realize how difficult it is to just walk away once you get
caught in the bargaining. The lady I was talking with cried. She
grabbed my arm as I tried to stand up. She stood in front of the door.
And I ended up with a $28 ticket for an air-conditioned sleeper bus
with food. I’m trying to tell myself that I’m still allowed some extra
frills this early in the trip and that the public bus would have been
an unnecessary hardship. At least I got out of the office without
signing up for an elephant safari and three days at a five star hotel -
the original package she’d offered had been nearly $200.

I stomped my way out, having changed my mind as soon as I’d handed
over the cash but not having the courage to make a scene. “Nevermind
Moh Chit,” I told the driver - I hadn’t paid him yet, so he’d waited -
“let’s just go to the Chatuchak Market.” Having uttered the word
“market” and therefore expressed my desire to shop, he begged to take
me to silk “factory”. “They pay for my gas,” he explained, and I was
touched enough by the honesty to agree. My goal for the day was just to
explore Bangkok, after all. And I hadn’t agreed to buy anything.

The silk factory turned out to be a high-end clothes shop. It was
four stories and staffed by polite, friendly Nepalese men who, within
three minutes of my having entered the shop, decided that I was
shopping for a suit and wool overcoat. The fabrics they showed me were
beautiful. The patterns were gorgeous. I made the fatal mistake of
bargaining for the fun of it, and the price to which they eventually
lowered themselves - less than a fifth of where we’d started - was no
doubt a bargain. None of this altered the fact that I wasn’t shopping
for a suit or overcoat. I tried to explain. I said I needed to think,
that I’d come back later. They told me that this was the right time,
the right place. I said I had no money. They said they’d take credit
card. I apologized for having wasted their time. I was followed to the
door with yet another offer.

I found my tuk tuk driver bantering with friends in the lot. They
all expressed their surprise at my lack of purchase - I explained,
again, with slightly more success and considerably less politeness, my
lack of money. They all apologized. They begged me not to be angry. And
then begged me to go into just one more store - promised that if I just
looked, the whole ride would be free. I didn’t have the energy to argue
and I steeled my shoulders as I walked to the building next door. I’d
made it out of the first store, after all, I could do it again. If
nothing else, it would be practice at saying no - practice that, having
gotten into the situation, I obviously deserved.

It was a gem store, this time, and if I’d been the sort who wore
precious stones, I would have left with some. (There were these amazing
black pearl earrings for $60…) The elderly Chinese sales man who
attached himself to me was far less pushy than the others - but no less
disappointed when I didn’t buy.

Having done my duty - and my penance - I found my tuk tuk and, no
longer bothering to be friendly, demanded the Chatuchak market. We set
off. Less than five minutes later he stopped in the middle of a busy
street. It was a wide street, with rushing traffic that - in true
Bangkok fashion - drove not only in the lanes but on the lines between
them. Before I had time to wonder if we’d run out of gas, the driver
hustled me off and onto another tuk tuk that I hadn’t seen him hail.

“Same price, same price,” he assured me. “He take you weekend
market, still 100 baht.” The last time I’d checked, the ride was free.
By this point, I was pissed, but I didn’t have time to argue; we were
in the middle of a busy street and, after all, 100 baht was only $3.