Live Fire with Chuck Holton

This week I’m visiting the Florida Keys, shooting a CBN feature about my friend Tom Morrisey, who currently works as an editor for Scuba Diving magazine. He is also a first-rate novelist, and his most recent work (which hits stores in May) is called “In High Places.” It’s set in Seneca Rocks, West Virginia, which is one of my favorite places on the planet.

I still have a few neat articles to post about my trip to Thailand and Burma. I’ll get to that as soon as I can. In the meantime, check out the pictures of Nathan and I in Florida. Nate is a great travel buddy. It’s really a blessing to be able to bring my kids when I travel.

More later.

Bangkok is one of the most annoying cities I’ve ever visited. It’s not just that it is muggy, polluted and noisy like any other metropolitan area on the planet. What really got on my nerves were the transportation options.

Never take a taxi. Not only could you probably walk to your destination more quickly due to the perpetual gridlock, the taxi driver will not actually take you where you are paying him to take you. At least not without several stops at his uncle’s tailor shop, his cousin’s jewelry store, etcetera. Apparently, these guys get kickbacks for bringing their paying customers to these other places, and so no matter how adamantly you tell the taxi driver that you JUST want to go to the museum, he will invariably need to stop “for just a moment” at one of these other places.

We have a term for this in the United States – it’s called “kidnapping.” But in Bangkok it is the norm.

Your next option is the ubiquitous Tuk Tuk. These are loud, smelly, and slow. And that’s just the driver. The machine is usually a cast-off riding lawnmower that has been retrofitted with a thinly padded seat in the back and removed of all emissions controls. I had one Tuk Tuk driver harangue me for a lift for about five minutes as I walked along the sidewalk. He was caught in traffic and moving about the same speed I was. So I just walked a little faster and left him behind. Besides, he wanted to show me his sister’s go-go bar “on the way” to wherever I was going.

Every time you step foot outside your hotel, these two groups of drivers converge on you like wolves on a cheeseburger. They flash pornographic cards at you with a wink and a nod, saying, “I find you good woman?” It’s disgusting.

If you make it through that gauntlet, look off to one side in the shade of a doorway. Normally, there will be a surly man sitting on a motorcycle and wearing an orange vest. This is the guy you want. He’s the moto-taxi. He’s cheap, fast, and best of all, he will actually take you where YOU want to go, not where his third-cousin’s brother wants you to go.

Sure, he’ll split lanes at hair-raising speed, drive on the sidewalk and cut through playgrounds full of screaming children while you cling desperately to the seat behind him. But if you arrive alive, you’ll know for sure that God has something special for you to do today. It’s the cheapest way to cheat death in Bangkok, and in my book, that’s better than being kidnapped.

If that doesn’t appeal to you, stay in your hotel.

How would you like to go six months without a shower, and spend two years of your life sleeping outside on the ground? Or brave temperatures as low as -40 without proper clothing? Oh, and what if there were a determined, highly skilled and well-equipped group of several hundred thousand men tying to kill you every day? Could you hang?

Paul Mcgraw did just that and survived. He and his brother joined the Army in 1943 and were sent as infantrymen to Europe – his brother landed on the beaches of Normandy on D-day with the 8th infantry, and Paul a few weeks later with the 28th. Both labored through the hellish winter of 1944 in the Hurtgen forest, freezing in their foxholes every night while the German artillery turned everything above ground into a bloody moonscape. Amazingly, Pauls’ only injury was losing the tips of his ears to frostbite and a little shrapnel in his left hand.

Paul fought all the way through to Berlin, fighting across France, Belgium and Germany. For a young man who until that time had never been more than twenty miles from Bolt, West Virginia (in Raleigh County) it was all pretty overwhelming.

He returned to Bolt after the war and became a contractor. He married and raised a family, and never spoke of his wartime experience until more than fifty years later. “I never wanted to talk about it before,” he told me. “But now there’s so few of us, that I think I should. I’m proud to be one of ‘em.”

I had the priviledge of sitting by him on the plane from Charleston to Detroit. Paul and his family are fleeing the cold weather (it was minus 17 in Detroit when we arrived) and taking a cruise in the Carribbean.

And I’d have to say, he’s earned it, wouldn’t you?

Okay, here’s something strange: when we arrived at the airport in Chiang Mai for our flight to Mae Hong Son, we were flying on NOK airways. Okay, kinda scary, I know. Anyway, when I asked if the return ticket had been paid for, they said it had only been reserved. So I pulled out my credit card and tried to pay for the return.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t do that here,” said the man behind the counter.

“Is there another desk” I looked around.

“No, you must pay for it at 7-eleven.”

Something must have been lost in translation. “What?”

“7-eleven. You must pay there.”

“You mean the convenience store?” (they are everywhere in Thailand, but not at the airport.)

“Yes.”

“But I’m leaving in ten minutes. I don’t have time to go to the 7-eleven. Why must I pay for it there?”

“It’s a convenience.”

I smiled. Because when you are confused or frustrated in Thailand, that is what you are supposed to do.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve never heard of buying a plane ticket at a convenience store.”

The man beamed. “Yes, we are the first to think of it.”

“Imagine that,” I breathed, smiling like I wanted to kill him and eat him.

“Oh, by the way,” the man continued. “If this reservation is not paid for in three hours, it will be cancelled.”

Luckily, the flight to Mae Hong Son is only thirty minutes. So when we arrived there, we rushed to the nearest 7-eleven to pay for our return flight.

I’m not making this up. We gave the lady behind the counter our confirmation number, and she picked up a little card from beside the register and scanned it.

“Beep.” said the register.

“Anything else today?” the polite cashier inquired.

“Um, sure. I’ll have one of these twinkies.” I said, pointing to an enormous fat pill on the counter. (their twinkies are like the Andre the Giant of highly preserved pastries.)

Beep. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, please.”

“Four thousand Baht,” A little over a hundred bucks for two tickets.

Will wonders never cease?

Last couple of days have been kind of busy – getting things straightened out for the last portion of the trip. We were planning to go to Laos, but found a better story in Mae Hong Son. So we’ve decided against Laos, and will instead visit the land of the long necked-women.

Yesterday morning we interviewed a KNU leader in Mae Sot. I never look forward to interviewing politicians, but in this case, the man was very humble and articulate and gave us a wonderful interview. I gave him a Bible and then we departed for Chiang Mai.

It’s a five hour drive. Matt was good company, though.

When we arrived, Matt showed me his home, and introduced me to his family. Then I got to meet with some FBR folks here. If you don’t know who that is, tough. I can’t say any more about it at this point. What I can say is that they are some of the most impressive folks I’ve ever met. The kind of people who make me feel like a total pansy.

Today is sort of a rest day. (Monday. ) We fly to MHS this afternoon.

I hear back at home they are gearing up for a major snowstorm. Oh goody. Here it’s about 90 degrees.

Today was another long day, but while it was tense and somewhat stressful, it wasn’t near as physically demanding as yesterday.

I’ve now been to the country next door to Thailand four times, and still haven’t got my passport stamped. : ) That’s a first.

We crossed in a boat this time, (podcast here) and visited with and interviewed several groups of soldiers – they are regrouping after yet another split. we ended up having to leave somewhat unexpectedly and re-cross the border, as there were some soldiers from another faction in the area where we had planned to travel. So we detoured around them and went ahead as planned. We visited a school for internally displaced children, and besides being painfully cute, they sang us a couple of lovely songs.

On the way back upriver, we saw several elephants. That was cool.

Later, I got to interview the oldest surviving member of the rebel army, who has been fighting since 1949 and is still kicking in his seventies. I also interviewed General Jonny – the incoming commander of all the rebel forces, who took his position officially today after the former one gave up and joined the other side. Needless to say, he didn’t have much time for us, but was very gracious nonetheless.

Sorry I can’t write more, but I hope you’re enjoying the podcasts and pictures.

g’nite.

Wouldn’t it be nice if one could have lots of adventures AND have time to blog about them?

the 7th was basically a travel day – flying from Bangkok to Chiang Mai and then meeting with my camera guy. Then I found the most awesome army surplus store in the world and spent lots of money there. Click here for a video podcast of that (Warning! 48 meg .AVI file!) and driving a rental car (wrong side of road!) to Mae Sot.

This morning started at 0400, as we began our journey into B-ma. I’ll spare you the details of how we got there and exactly where we were for security reasons, but suffice it to say, the day was an amazing adventure. And in reality, it’s very possible that the most dangerous part of the day was the drive to and fro. (which was several hours of screaming down a two-lane knot of a road with a 1000 foot drop on one side passing a lumbering dump truck on a blind curving hill. ) When we finally arrived, we all felt a little queasy.

There’s really not much time to write all the specifics, but I anticipated this, and recorded this podcast on the hike out. don’t mind the heavy breathing – it was a tough hike. There are a few pics from the day here.

I doubt I’ll get to post every day on this trip, but since today was just a day to get caught up and get over the jetlag, I’ll do all I can for now.

Bangkok is officially known as the “city of angels.” Well, these are some really loud angels, I promise you. And busy, too. It seems like everyone is going somewhere in a hurry, on some sort of conveyance that doesn’t have a muffler. Loud, I tell you.

By contrast, the skytrain is nice, clean, quiet and efficient. From my hotel I took the free shuttle boat to the skytrain station and rode that to somewhere downtown that looked interesting, and then walked from there. I wandered around for awhile, then was offered a ride by a friendly tuk tuk driver. He asked where I was headed, and I told him to take me to the mall. 20 baht, he said. (about 60 cents.)

Well, though the mall was really less than a mile away, we drove around for about half an hour while he stopped at various of his relatives establishments, trying to get me to buy a suit, get a massage, etcetera. I’d been told to expect these kinds of shenanigans, though, so I didn’t get ruffled, I just kept saying, “that’s nice, but I’d like to go to the mall, please.”

Finally he took me there. Then the guy was going to take me around while I shopped. I almost had to ditch him, but finally just tipped him real big (like, a dollar) and he went away. Having money is helpful like that sometimes. Of course, if I didn’t have any money, I wouldn’t have that problem to begin with.

Anyway, I wandered around an enormous building full of shops for about an hour before realizing that there’s absolutely nothing in Bangkok that I desire to own. So after dining on some very tasty spring rolls, I left and went to get the vaunted “Thai Massage” that everyone keeps talking about.

The Thai massage has been developed over millenia, honed to a fine art that takes years to master. Basically, it involves contorting the masaggee (or masochist, as the case may be.) into impossibly humiliating positions until he screams for his mommy. I mean, um, yes I’m awesome!

Anyway, if you think there’s anything sensual about a Thai massage, think again. Mine was conducted by a beefy woman named Jaysot, which I believe is Thai for “bonecrusher.” Jaysot was a very friendly woman about twice my age. The massage parlor consists of a large room with about a dozen matresses laid on the floor.

First, Jaysot had me go behind a curtain and change into a pair of red plaid flannel pajamas. At first I wondered why they did this, but later I found out it was to keep you from running screaming out into the street the first time she twists your legs into the “Thai pretzel of death” position.

So for an hour I laid there in full view of the street while Jaysot worked me over, all the while very nicely carrying on a monologue in Thai, which I don’t speak. But I imagined she was telling me about how she flunked out of mob enforcer school for being too rough on people, and how she’d learned this particular move during a short stint as an interrogator for Al Qaeda. In fact, I got to thinking that if we employed a small group of Thai massage experts at Guantanamo bay, we’d get all the information we wanted out of the prisoners, and if they complained, we could just say, “They get massages twice a week down there, what more do they want?”

Actually, after about a half hour of Jaysot doing a slow motion Thai version of riverdance on my spine (I’m not making this up – the woman was walking all over me) I began to confess to crimes I hadn’t even thought to commit yet.

Anyway, click here for the podcast I attempted to record during my session. And here’s another from after the experience.

On the plane from Tokyo to Bangkok I had a great time getting to know Andrew “Powerhouse” Peck, a professional prizefighter from New Zealand who sat by me on the plane. A great guy – we had hours of interesting conversation about what it’s like to beat people up for a living. (and get beat up, sometimes, though I don’t think that happens a lot when you’re 6′4″, 260 pounds.)

Andrew now lives in Japan with his wife and two kids, importing cars for a career and fighting professionally as a “hobby.” At 33 years of age, he’s no spring chicken in the arena, but he’s been fighting since he was seventeen, so all that experience comes in handy.

“Fighting, if you do it right, is done at a walking pace. You can’t hurry it or you’re going to lose,” he says.

There’s a life lesson in that statement somewhere. But after 30-plus hours traveling, I’m too tired to think of what it is at the moment.

Click here for podcast #1 of my trip: Arrival. (all podcasts are going to be in .wma format – that’s windows media.)

My photos from this trip are here.

Well, I’ve been on the road for exactly 24 hours now, most of it in an ambien-induced hypersleep aboard the largest jetliner I’ve ever seen. I was in row 60, and there were lots of rows behind me.

BTW, the movie Gridiron gang is funnier if you turn the sound off and make up your own lines.

Anyway, I’m in Tokyo, about to board the plane to Bangkok. Japan is cool – the people here are very small, very cute, and apparently have a huge affinity for 1980’s era punk rock. It’s all the fashion craze.

I looked at some of their food (pics to come) and finally decided on a shrimp burger at mcdonalds. it was awesome. I also had a starbucks, and laughed at how when the barista said “white chocolate mocha” it sounded exactly like “konichiwa.” Very cute.

off to Bangkok. Ambien, take me away!