Uh oh. Umm...Daddy?

As I stood in the line for customs I felt a finger of fear creep into my stomach and grip me loosely. How could I be so stupid as to not have gotten any money while I was still in Korea? I mused silently, remember those ATM's at the train station? Or maybe the ATM's in the airport itself? Either of those would have worked, but no, you just kept saying there'll be a better deal at the next place. Stupid! Finally, it was my turn, I passed through customs unscathed and looked around. My new plane buddies were having technical difficulties with their customs and the fat man had run off. I began wandering around looking for an ATM, my pack digging heavily into my shoulders. I finally found one and inserted my Korean card. Of course it didn't work, it's Korean. "It was a worth a shot." I muttered under my breath. I tried my new credit card, but of course, I didn't have a pin number so that didn't work either. I began to feel the fingers tightening uncomfortably. 

As I stood there in the baggage claim area I began to think of alternative ways to get some money. My first thoughts were of my daddy. Oh boy. Immediately I was transported across the ocean to D-town. There he sat at his desk in the Mom. Offices, imposing and ever correct. Mentally I gulped as I began imagining what he would say if he received a phone call from me; "Hi daddy! I made it! But GUESS what?! I forgot to bring money with me!" Mentally I composed the rest of the picturesque statement, ripe with remorse, selflessness, need and the greatness of dad. I finished and mentally imagined his brows furrowing deeper and deeper with each word. Lines as deep as the ocean creasing his forehead. I imagined him questioning me tersely, attempting to figure out whether my situation was perilous or not. When he finally determined that I was a mere idiot and nothing more, I imagined his ire, building over the head of my patriarch like purple storm clouds in the Rockies. Finally, I imagined his words, "How much do you need?" Stated tersely, with no slip of emotion. Pure statement of facts. I would, at this point, pretend to consider, I wouldn't want it to be too extreme or he'd scoff at me, yet I wouldn't want it to be too simple or he'd feel anxiety course through him. 

My statement: "600$?" 

His response: "Ok, I’ll wire it to you, where do you need it?"

We'd then have a conversation concerning the fine details of this life-saving act and then, well then I’d get a lecture on responsibility and safety. He would, in no certain terms, berate me for being so stupid. I, having received the wherewithal to proceed on my journey would feel frustrating boiling, doesn't he realize we're past this? Of course I’d have to giggle softly to myself then because the berating stems solely from love and worry. We would end the conversation shortly thereafter. 

"I love my Molly."

"I love my daddy."

I snapped back to attention, turned to the nearest bank teller, "Is there anywhere I can get money straight off my credit card?" "This bank, next desk ma'am." PERFECT! I turned away and got to business. With 6,000 Baht burning a hole in my pocket I stepped out of the airport and into the Thai air, following closely behind my newly discovered airplane friends. As we flashed through the city in a hot pink taxi, the cool night air whipping my hair, I contemplated how stupid I’d been. Backpacker learning experience number 12, NEVER forget your money. Check.

As we zoomed along the freeway my revelations were disturbed only by the occasional brilliant explosion of golden color, lighting up a deity set up on the road to watch over my safety. I offered up a silent prayer of thanks as we continued to hurtle through the darkness and tall, sentrified buildings of Bangkok, in search of our own destinations. It never hurts to go with the culture…right?