2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 35

When our plane landed in Bangkok for the transfer, the first thing I did was to find the lounge. 

The Bangkok airport is much bigger than the Balinese one. I gingerly and eagerly followed the sign posts, and located the lounge in a quiet wing of the concourse. Outside the lounge, it's stainless steel and polished glass, inside, it's dark and dramatic purple lusciousness. Instead of the airy serenity of the Balinese Spa, the Thai lounge felt more like a plush and posh private club. Stretching out in front of me was a long corridor pillared with dark wood. Enormous brass vases held dangling greens and organic crowns of white blossoms that almost kissed the ceiling.

I wanted to thoroughly inspect it from head to toe, as I did at the Balinese spa. But this velvety corridor went on and on! I passed by clusters of seating in eggplant and plum and cow leather brown, then a generous buffet serving everything from gyozas, to pork buns, to fried rice, to mushroom galangal coconut soup. Then a dessert buffet of mini vanilla Danish pastries, chocolate squares with ribbon ties that looked like tiny boxes of gifts, and Swiss rolls of every shade of the Easter basket. Then I passed a fresh fruit and salad bar. Then a children's play pen complete with orangutans and rocking horses (this I had never before seen.)

Just as I was wondering when this corridor would end so I could get back to the buffet stations and eat, another buffet emerged in front of me. Then more dessert, more salad, more booze, more sofas. That's when I realized this place has no end! The sheer abundance of good food lying around looking pretty and costing nothing was not to be believed. And the ridiculous thing was, I wasn't hungry. So I just looked at the food. Wishing I was hungry. I did the only thing I could to make the most of my Thai lounge experience – I sank into a purple sofa, just to test it out, to see what purple sofas feel like. Within a second, I knew. It feels like a sofa.

I don't remember how many food buffets I passed, before I came to the door again (apparently this lounge has multiple entries, I'm quite certain I had only been walking straight). I wished I could stay longer, but I had more important business to attend to. As I was making my exit, I couldn't help it but to turn around and take in the lounge one last time, in its purple luxury: "Thai Royal Silk" boldly emblazoned in gold against a silky wall of peach, flanked by dark wood, giving it a weighted dignity. Like an otherwise ostentatiously dressed businessman, decked out in silks and golds and decadent colours, yet who is solidly grounded by a dark wooden briefcase, carrying the substance which warrants all that glory.

The receptionist beamed at me and dipped her head into a little bow. I smiled back ever so briefly, casting a gaze at all that sumptuous elegance behind her, and felt a tremor of sadness and loss. When will I ever set foot in a lounge like this again? Or the Balinese spa? Without the job, when will I ever set foot in any lounge at all?

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