Honey Ko - A Novel

Book Three, Chapter Thirteen

U-Tapao, Thailand

1991

Tom

The sun seared my skin as I walked down the C-130 cargo ramp. The terminal shimmered like an abstract watercolor in the heat waves emanating from the asphalt. I set my bags down and took in the familiar scenery.

U-Tapao had been a U.S. Air Force base during the Vietnam War, and later a processing station for refugees. Sentry towers once manned by armed guards now kept ghostly watch over the perimeter. Buddha Mountain, low and squat, and looking more like a bullfrog than a Buddha, dominated the landscape to the northeast.

A van honked and pulled up next to me. The rear door slid open, and Bob Dixon called out.

"Tom. Hop in. You're just in time to ride to the hotel with us."

"Thanks. Toss my bag in the back, would you?" I wedged myself between suitcases, flight bags, and George Avelar.

"Here you go, buddy. Drink up." George handed me a beer from the cooler behind the seat. "Hot enough for you?"

He looked on as I swallowed half the can of beer. "Sorry, man," he said. "No Klosters. PBR is all we have. Tastes like formaldehyde, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." I wiped my chin with the back of my hand. "But it's cold. Where'd you get it?"

"The embassy liaison, Dan something, gave us a case when we landed and another case before he left for Bangkok a little while ago. There's a few left. Have another."

George took another beer from the cooler, a Styrofoam model shedding white, crumbling pellets that clung to beer cans and melting ice.

"I like that guy. He sets priorities," he said, handing me the beer. "By the way, first flight is at six tomorrow morning. We're on the launch crew; the other poor bastards get to handle recoveries."

Poor bastards all right. The nominal work schedule was twelve hours on and twelve off. The aircraft launch crew had evenings free to spend in town. The recovery crew had to swap shifts with someone if they wanted a night out. Not likely to happen in Thailand.

The drive to Pattaya was uneventful, though the driver took the long route to point out potential side trips for sightseeing. The van, part of a package deal that included transportation, box lunches, hotel, and tours of local attractions, deposited our luggage and us at the Tropicana Hotel on Beach Road at the north end of town.

I checked in and gave the clerk, a good-looking Thai girl with the smoothest skin I had ever seen, my personal information. George passed around beers while he waited his turn. He crowded me at the counter, leaning against me and making kissing sounds.

"Hurry up, Nelson. I don't have all night. There are women in town waiting for my lips."

"Wait until they find out where your lips have been." I handed him the pen and smiled as he moved aside.

"Very funny, mister comic relief." George leaned over to sign the guest book, his left arm curved in a painfully awkward position.

I winced. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Doesn't what hurt?"

"Screwing your arm around like that."

"No. We geniuses get used to our little peculiarities."

"Little?"

"No woman has ever complained about my peculiarity being little. Yours, on the other hand."