So there was this Shindig...

It’s Loy Krathong season, once again. Er, well it was. Past tense, since these events all transpired on the 2nd of November.

My day started at the butt crack of dawn. That’s right. 6 am. Even school doesn’t get that much early attention from me. I stumbled out the door at around 7 in a ratty T-shirt and pants, and got in the car with my equally-exhausted host dad, who was responsible for me for the day. Since the weather has been getting colder (supposedly) he was wearing jeans and a green knitted sweater, not unlike something I, myself, would wear. In 40 degree weather with snow all around, that is. At any rate, apparently, even though there wasn’t any school that day, all the students in Thailand were required by law to show their talents by singing, dancing, etc., in what I soon learned was a parade. Um, I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to think that Big Brother isn’t so fictional after all...

Now, I’m pretty sure everyone knows that most of the time, I never know what’s going on. That morning was no exception. After dropping by the school and quickly leaving again (?) Khun Pa rushed me over to something resembling a hair salon, where a woman with painfully arched eyebrows, a longish ruffled T-shirt, and bare feet, sat me down in front of a mirror, tried to brush my hair (Note to self: perhaps I should up the brushing from once a week to, um, twice a week…), gave up, and instead just plastered it to my head and put the remaining strands in a ponytail that was so tight, I swear my forehead gained a few inches. Suai mai? (Beautiful?) I just winced. Then she swiveled me around, took out her makeup bag and attacked my face. Like 10 minutes later she shoved me back in front of the mirror with exclamations of “Beautiful!” (and to Mysterious Person #1 who mysteriously emerged from somewhere in the back. What?) “Beautiful, right?” I took one look at myself and shrieked. I was entirely a different color and I had the eyebrows of a Neanderthal. Good thing my Care Meter combusted like a month ago, because I never thought I would see the day I had caterpillars for eyebrows. Khun Pa came back about an hour later and I grimaced when he asked me if I liked it. No comment. Just, please, angle all mirrors away from my face. Maybe if I can’t see myself, I’ll forget that I look like I have fur on my forehead.

After that, he took me to a costume shop of sorts, where they zipped and buttoned me into the most hideous outfit I have ever seen. Complete with a headband with plastic pink pearls on it. “Oh, you look so sweet!” The beautiful transsexuals purred at me. Yeah, yeah… Hey! Watch it! What did I say about the mirr… Oh. Dear. God. Who IS that?? The wobbly gold shoes… The rust colored towel (Wait. That would be a skirt)… Oh, and the 18th century called. They want their ruffles back. It wasn’t until I looked down, that I knew. THAT was most definitely ME in the mirror. If American Girl Dolls have feelings about the dreadful outfits I used to dress them up in so I could laugh, I can now sympathize 100%. I didn’t have too long to mope about my appearance, however, before Khun Pa rushed me back out to the car, sped somewhere and leapt out, leaving me to totter behind him as fast as I could. Well, as it turns out, we ended up running to the front of the line. The parade line, that is. Yes, it is true. They were sticking me on a float looking like THIS.

Fortunately the parade only lasted an hour. Unfortunately, the whole town now has pictures to prove it. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. Really, that humiliation only needs to be lived through once.

After The Parade of Humiliation, we dropped the clothing back off, got me two servings of Magic Cookie ice cream and hustled me home for a nap, before I had to return for more hair and makeup. See, in the Loy Krathong festival, there is this competition called Miss. Noppama, which is not unlike Apple Blossom Royalty. And let me tell you. There isn’t a feeling worse in the world, than being entered in a beauty pageant in a foreign language. Case and point:

My appointment was at 4 pm. We went back to the costume shop. There were many girls all milling around, with huge hair and extension pieces, and powder all over their bodies to make them whiter. I brought my Thai phrasebook with me in order to cram, because apparently, I had to give a speech and sing a song in this competition. And now, I believe you understand why there’s nothing worse in life. Two English teachers where there from school because they were hosting another event and needed to look the part. One of them felt it was necessary to give me a bunch of lines in Thai to memorize, so that I wouldn’t make a total fool of myself. Now, I like to think that I’m not too nervous of a person. Sure, track meets sometimes made me want to die, and the first performance of a play is usually fairly nerve-wracking, but those things had NOTHING on what I felt during those hours of “beautifying”. I went through 3 stages: “Denial”. “Acceptance”. And “Resignation”.

Stage One. “Denial”. While I sat in the chair getting my hair bouffanted I calmly tried to remember the phrases and watched the other girls get their makeup done. While my hairdresser filched around for a hair piece that would match my hair color, I hummed and looked at the ceiling. While she was attaching a huge mess of blondish/brownish/reddish curls to the back of my head (that looked nothing like my hair) I examined my poor finger. She stabbed bobby pins into my head to keep a gold headpiece in place. I fanned myself with my phrasebook. It wasn’t until after, while I was waiting for makeup that it hit. This competition is actually a really, big, deal.

Stage Two. “Acceptance”. And… I almost broke down and cried right after I realized this. I mean, these girls weren’t secretly giving each other the evil eye for nothing. I looked for the exit. I hyperventilated. I couldn’t remember the phrases. It was too much to remember in only a few hours. I blinked back tears. I tried to focus on the words coming out of the English teacher’s mouth. I bounced my leg. The room got hotter. I finally ran for the bathroom (A squatty, of course. Such is my life). I debated throwing up. Or just locking myself in there indefinitely. I finally emerged five minutes later, contemplating suicide. Within the short span of 30 minutes, my nerves were fried. There was no way I was going to survive this. And then, thank god, they took me in the back to put my costume on.

Stage Three. “Resignation”. And suddenly, I felt fine. I think it was mostly due to seeing what I would actually be wearing. As they once again, zipped, buttoned and SEWED me into the traditional, cotton-candy pink, Thai costume, the dam broke, and I just let my sarcastic comments flow. And I felt so much better. The English teachers were doubled over in laughter the whole time, but it just didn’t matter. I was going out on that stage, and I was going to look like a world-class fool. Whatever. It’s not like I could realistically run away anymore. I mean, they sewed me into this thing, and I was going to have a hard enough time just walking. I stopped trying to memorize my speech. I decided that if worst came to worst, I would just smile, laugh, say I didn’t understand and sing Aretha Franklin or something. Yep. Even when the power went out while my makeup was being done (ie, welcome back my furry little arched friends) I kept my cool. They motorbiked me over to the stage. I sat down and stretched my legs out while the others sat primly, waiting for the time when we were on.

I’m not quite sure what to say about the actual pageant itself, except that it was unnecessarily long, and everybody loved me. And I think saying that is actually fairly modest of me. When I first stepped out onto the stage and “Wai-d” everyone, the audience cheered and clapped for me. I almost bowed instead. Every time I walked around the catwalk, they would flock to me with bouquets of fake flowers, and I would have to leave them on the catwalk because I didn’t have enough hands. In one instance, I was strutting back across the stage to my place, when I saw a woman waving a bouquet, and thinking it was for me, I pulled a 180 and wobbled back over there. Well, the flowers weren’t for me, but the crowd laughed with me and cheered as I high-tailed it back to my place in line empty-handed. In the end, all 23 of us ended up exiting and coming back onto the stage a total of three times, and by the second time, I had had enough.

The pageant started at about 8 pm. By the time I was tired, it was 10 pm, and they still hadn’t picked a Miss Noppama. The worst part about the waiting was that no one spoke English, and I didn’t know Thai for, “Is it over? What just happened? What is going on? Do you know when we’re going on next?” Finally, at 11:30 something happened. Not only did I think my cheeks were going to permanently stay squished in a smile forever, but they actually gave a girl a sash and a trophy. Oh, thank the lord. It’s over!

Not so. We went back into the room behind the stage and everyone sat back down. I turned to the girl wearing the blue sash, who spoke the most English out of everyone and asked her, “Did you just win?” Yes. “OH! So, it’s over? We can leave?” Yes, this is my first time. “Right. Okay. But is the contest over? I mean, you won, right?” Yes, I live in Bangkok. And this is my first time. I have never been in one of these before. “See… You just said that. Er, okay… can I go home.” She smiled and nodded, Yes. “Okay, why is everyone still here then?” Yes. I have never been in this before. “You. Don’t. Know. Do. You.” Smile, nod. Yes. I study in Bangkok. OMG.

At 12 pm, everyone just suddenly got up and started leaving. I would have skipped for joy, but my massive drag-queenesq heels combined with very sore feet, caused me to limp down the stage stairs and collapse in the first chair I spotted. I waited a few more minutes for my host parents, thinking it was over, but not knowing what was actually going on. Then Khun Pa appeared, spoke with a woman, and a few minutes later, they called my name on stage. Wha…? I thought this was over…. A random woman came over and steered me towards the stage, where they presented me with a trophy. Huh? She steered me past about five other girls (Wait… what are you doing here..?) Then I started to walk off the stage, and she grabbed me again and pushed me towards the announcer’s booth. So now I’m going to give a speech? I stopped at the podium. She snatched my arm and walked me around and back to the edge of the stage and pushed me towards the stairs, where Khun Pa was waiting to direct me God knows where. Finally I saw Khun Ma. I asked her what happened. “You won!” Uh… “The popular award!” BAHAHA. Wait, seriously? I won? I won! The popularity award! See, I told you they loved me.

So that was the end of my day, and of the Loy Krathong festival. I didn’t get to walk around any of the booths, or ride the one Ferris wheel-type ride they had. I didn’t get to put a krathong in the river (which, is kind of the point of the festival…). I didn’t get to eat super greasy food. And I didn’t meet up with any of my friends from school, and I spent most of my time sitting in a white room with a bunch of girls actually taking the competition seriously. But I DID get a trophy, even though looking at the pictures of that night makes me cringe and laugh in pity. Even if all else fails this year, I still have this awesome plastic trophy that I’m planning on carrying through the airport with me and making sure it’s the first thing everybody sees when I touchdown in America. Like, Yeah, that’s right… I probably embarrassed myself pretty badly, but I got a TROPHY because of it. Ha. Hahaha.

Oh, and I don’t know what you all did on Halloween, but I spent mine sitting in front of another dead body, listening to monks chant.

Talk about Deja-Vu (again), yet oddly Ironic this time,

The Popular One

p.s. I WILL be uploading some example pictures at the end of the weekend once I have sorted through and hand-picked only the most hilarious ones :). Until then, use your imagination. I am almost positive that your mind will do me more justice than reality did.