Philosophers have pondered, poets have written, songbirds have sung but they've all arrived at exactly the same assertion; there is absolutely no way to prepare for 19.5 hours of flight.
After some confusion, a narrowly averted Korean visa disaster that would have landed us indefinitely, some begging, and eventually some more begging, we made it to Seattle and our long awaited flight. Our total luggage can best be summarized as one suitcase, two white-trash duffel bags, and 2 carry-ons. Of course, these are supplies for more than just our Thai excursion. If it were up to me, I'd wear only my board shorts and let the chips fall where they may. But it wasn't, and sadly there is work and colder temperatures waiting for us on the other side.
But enough about shitty possessions. People used to be excited to fly places. Travelers would wander, friends would visit others friends, and men would visit mistress but it seems most of the appeal has been lost. I blame the Totally Spineless Amoeba's. You may know them as TSA. Whilst being cattle guarded, I looked around and noticed the blank expressions on people. I wouldn't have a problem with the premise itself, disarming militants from dropping planes out of the sky using a bevy of dangerous weapons such as pocket knifes, nail files, and gasp, more than 3 ounces of shampoo but Dateline, or the cable equivalent, did an expose where ten times out of ten they were able to sneak bomb making materials past the aforementioned "security checkpoints". Pay close attention but more often then not the glassy eyed, overweight blob checking the bags looks like any of characters from the movie "Wall-E" (This isn't a dis on Wall-E himself. I'm actually quite inspired by the little fella's work ethic but that's another issue). As far as the security checkpoint people who go about collecting their paychecks, some 70 years ago, near the water coolers around the SS station, I'm sure the expression "jaa, but at least it's a job" ended and began more than one conversation. But until I become part of the solution, then I reckon I'm smack dab part of the adhesive of this problem. Until I put the finishing touches on my Geo Metro making it an amphibious transcontinental vessel, ill sentiment will remain ill sentiment.
SEA > SFO > SEOUL > BANKOK -> Immigration. After that there was the cab driver who staunchly refused to turn on his meter so a 8 dollar taxi ride became 15. Beyond tired at this point, I relented and chalked this extra expenditure as an "American tax"
We retired into our 20 USD hotel room at 3:30 a.m and drifted quickly into slumber, knowing that the following days in Bankok would provide us with great adventure and possibly a "ping-pong show".