The morning I left Vientiane, the Papasan1 came to my room with the cook, the maids, the guard and the gardener. The papasan was an older Laotian man already in his sixties. He was a very devout Buddhist but once confided to me that he was a 'raw' Buddhist, his way of telling me that though in his sixties, he had not yet met the Buddhist requirement to volunteer at least one year of his life as a Buddhist monk. The purpose of men in monk service gives them spiritual awareness and grants them several government and societal privileges not available to ‘raw’ men.
They all came in with a large silver tray about the size of the largest pizza tray and loaded with small flowers, candles, sweet pastry, teacups and some type of coarse muslin material. What ensued was a ceremony which I understood every member of our villa received on his departure. Papasan asked me to join them on the floor around the silver tray. I sat and papasan lit the candles. Each of the Laotians lit sticks of incense and began chanting some Buddhist prayer. Papasan mentioned that I should also light a stick of incense and stick it in the holder. I did. We were all with our hands clasped in front of us, our heads bowed. The chant got louder and louder as one by one the other Laotians joined the chant.
After a couple more minutes of chanting, the ritual ended. Papasan handed me a piece of the sweet pastry then took the piece of muslin and ripped off about a half-inch width the length of the material. He took my left wrist and tied the muslin ribbon on my wrist. Meanwhile, the next Laotian was ripping another piece of muslin. He, too, tied it as a bracelet on my wrist. By the time the ceremony ended, I had seven muslin ribbons on my left wrist, one from each of the seven Laotians. Papasan advised me that these were good luck symbols, and I was not to remove them until I safely reached my destination back home.
When my embassy car driving me to the Vientiane airport arrived, papasan and the other Laotians all helped me load my bags into the trunk. Before I could shake hands with them, they all gave me the sabaidee2 gesture holding their hands clasped in front of them while bowing their heads. I returned the gesture, turned around and got in the car.
Traditional 'Sabaidee Gesture' of pressing palms
together as in prayer and bowing slightly.
On the way to the airport, I noticed a straggling band of Buddhist Monks collecting their morning food donations. That is something that endeared me to Laos and to the Buddhists in general. The local population's generosity to their Monks is boundless. Every morning beginning about 6 AM, local residents begin lining the streets with pots of homemade rice and other food to donate to their Buddhist monks. They kneel or sit along the side of the streets and give out a handful of their food to a line of monks who travel the major roads collecting donations of food to carry back to their monastery to share with their Buddhist brethren. No words are spoken between the two groups, and the ritual is a respectful, solemn morning event seven days a week. If I were ever to leave the Catholic faith, it would be for the Buddhist faith. They are decent, good-hearted souls who practice honesty, sharing and caring.
Morning Monks on street receiving food donations.
Leaving Vientiane, I arrived in Bangkok where I had a scheduled flight to San Francisco by way of Wake Island and Honolulu. I had some four hours layover in Bangkok. I inquired at the military transportation desk and learned there was a C-5A to San Francisco leaving within the hour. Since I had never flown in the world’s largest military transport, I asked for a seat on the C-5A but learned all seventy-five passenger seats were already taken. I pulled out my Priority One Embassy official orders and asked them to reconsider and somehow find me a seat. Magically, a seat was found for me. The call went out over the loudspeaker for a major who was already boarded on the C-5A to come to the air transportation desk. The Air Force major appeared and was informed he was bumped by a Priority One passenger. He was not too happy and pleaded for a seat. I was boarded but warned the flight would be taking a nine-hour crew rest at Wake Island. I was not fazed simply because I wanted the opportunity to fly in the world’s largest military transport.
While waiting for my flight in the passenger terminal, I sat on the only available seat next to a Specialist Four. He seemed distraught and agitated. I hesitated but finally asked him where he was going. “To Omaha,” he replied. “But I’ve been stuck here all day waiting on stand-by. My mom was in an accident back home, and I’m trying to get back home before her funeral.
"Don't you have emergency orders?” I asked. “With emergency orders you will get priority seating on the next available flight." He explained to me that he had presented his orders to the military transportation desk but was told he had to fly on standby. I asked to see his orders. He fumbled around his AWOL3 bag and pulled out a copy of his orders. I verified they were, in fact, emergency orders. I was pissed! He had been at the terminal for over twelve hours. I asked him to follow me to the military transportation desk. I asked the air force sergeant at the customer service desk if someone traveling on emergency travel orders took priority over stand-bys. "Yes, we move them to the front of the list if their orders state emergency travel,” he stated. I gave him the Specialist Four’s emergency travel orders and asked him to upgrade him from standby to priority one. The Specialist was upgraded. The passenger list for a civilian flight to San Francisco was already closed. The air force sergeant got on the intercom and called for a passenger booked on that flight. The passenger was informed he had been pulled off the list for a higher priority passenger. The Specialist was then booked on that flight, the flight on which I was booked prior to asking for the C-5A flight. The Specialist was elated. After being there for the better part of the day and concerned he might miss his mother's funeral, he thanked me profusely and wanted to buy me dinner. I declined telling him to save his money for the trip home. I wished him well.
We boarded the C-5A through the rear ramp door. The whole lower deck of the plane was hugely enormous and filled with massive metal containers, webbed pallets, and what appeared to be airplane or helicopter engines. While in flight the captain gave us some details on the C-5A. What impressed me the most was its length at some two hundred and fifty feet. We walked past much of the cargo and climbed up the stairs to the second level. Once seated on the second level, it seemed just like any other civilian passenger compartment except, traditionally military, the seats were facing to the rear of the plane. I got a window seat, but takeoff while facing to the rear was not the thrill I expected, though I still felt the enormous power of the engines and gradual slow turn while the wheels were secured.
We landed at Wake Island some hours later. I had already planned on taking a taxi to a local hotel so I would not have to spend the nine-hour crew rest sitting on the airport lounge chairs. My plans changed when I learned there were no hotels close to the airport, and taxi to the nearest hotels cost fifty-five dollars one-way. There was no guarantee that a room was available, but the hotel rooms were approximately one hundred twenty-five dollars. Quickly calculating the total cost of the taxi and hotel room, I thanked the taxi driver for his time and walked back into the terminal to begin my layover. Some three hours later the commercial airline flight on which I had been scheduled to take from Bangkok landed on Wake Island to refuel. The passengers filled the small terminal and were still busily buying souvenirs from the terminal kiosks when their departure was announced. They were on the ground for less than an hour while the rest of us struggled to get comfortable on hard plastic bucket chairs. I believe these bucket chairs were purposely designed to discourage people from loitering, and I fully support that except for those times when loitering would not be the planned objective.
Papasan’s good luck muslin bracelets did not appear to be doing me any good service. It was during one of these dull moments during my layover that I decided to remove them. I was unable to break free from them all and finally had to borrow a pair of scissors from the terminal’s souvenir shop with which I promptly cut off the remaining bracelets throwing them in a trash bin. I analyzed my situation and somewhat believed that as a Catholic I was being punished for participating in a Buddhist religious ceremony. True or not and despite all of papasan’s goodness and all his good intentions, I felt a sense of relief to rid myself of these muslin bracelets. I had no more bad luck for the remainder of my trip and arrived safely back home in Texas a couple of days later by way of Oakland Army base.
C-5A Galaxy - the largest military transport in the U.S. arsenal.
1 Head of the local employees assigned to our villa.
2 Traditional Laotian gesture which can mean either hello or goodbye.
3 AWOL bag – a commonly used military term for a large hand-carry bag.
©Copyright texan@atudemi.com - January 2022