A drizzle began to fall as the music and pounding steps of the approaching mob drew nearer creating a pandemonium of sound. He began to recognize the thick sounds tank engines make, and began slip over past an edge into a pit of panic. He leaned back against the door of a small pottery shop to relax and get his breath back before he finished his journey back to safety. Suddenly he felt a hand gripped his shoulder and he jerked away flailing his arms backwards to strike whatever had attacked him. After stumbling away a few feet Austin rotated to see what had assailed him. He realized it was one of the expatriates who had laughed at him the other night, effectively saving him from the attentions of the re-assembled dancer. Glad to see a familiar face even one associated with such embarrassment gave Austin a small smile. The man was beckoning Austin within his 1 st floor apartment to give gain safety. Quickly striding towards the room he slipped on the loose wet shingles of the tiled street. The expatriate grabbed him from the ground with two meaty hands and hauled him back into safety. The noise was now a roar of diesel engines and loud over amplified music punctuated by the stamping of feet.

Slowly the sound faded into the distance, leaving with it a headache punctuated by occasional loudspeaker announcements. The expat who Austin now knew as Johanson McGregarson, hailed from an assortment of Asian countries and was surprisingly calm, “Its calmed down now, go back to your hotel”, he said.

Austin later learned that uprisings such as this happened every few years, generally with little violence. The dose of reality he received in Thailand smacked Austin in the face and he is no longer as stressed because of work. Likely this is because he cut down his hours to a low (by comparison) 50 hours a week.

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