my momma always told me...

I was walking up my street just now, wallet in hand, to buy a kilo of mangosteens from a fruit vendor. I was excited, because I’d memorized the Thai phrase for “Can I have one kilo?”

A man was coming toward me; a fellow foreigner (I know this because he was black). I smiled at him, because in Thailand - the Land of Smiles - that's what you do.

I reached the fruit cart, felt too shy to say my Thai phrase, and bought my mangosteens by just saying “Neung kilo.” Whatever, it got me my fruit.

I turned around to walk back. I hadn’t gone very far when a black Honda stopped next to me with its window rolled down. It was that guy. He asked my name. I told him. He asked if I was working in Thailand. I said yes, and asked what he was doing here. He works here, too. I asked where he was from, and he said Paris.

He has his phone in his hand, looked at it, and asked me for my contact. I told him I didn’t know my phone number, which was true. Then he asked where I was staying. In my head I envisioned responding with, “Sorry, my mom told me never to talk to strangers.” Deciding this would be too juvenile a response, I went with, “Sorry, I’m not comfortable telling you that.”

He said OK, and that maybe we’d meet again.

Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Parisian stranger! I'm no fool; I just watched the movie “Taken” on the plane coming over here!