Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, is directionally challenged. I joke that he could get lost in our hotel room. Because he has. On a visit to Chiang Mai where we stayed at a hotel different from our usual choice, announcing he was going to go pee, he headed down the hall toward the front door. The bathroom was in the opposite direction. That was good for a laugh. The first time.

It’s not so much that Noom is confused by the points of a compass, but rather the concept of north and south is completely foreign to him. Up and down work better in his mind. As long as he is facing in the right direction. Chiang Mai is ‘up’. And gets identified by an upward nod of his head. The two go together. Always. So if Noom mentions Chiang Mai, he nods his head upwards too. Just in case I don’t know where that city is.

That cute little habit would go unnoticed except he has to orientate himself first. Which often looks like a dog making circles before it lies down. That once he feels his body is properly aligned for an upward nod means he’s nodding toward Phuket is unimportant. But then when you are the master of the universe and the center of the world, all directions flow from you anyway.

Noom does better in elevators where the concept of up and down is a more immediate one. A long as I’ve turned him around to face the door in case he forgot. Again. Waiting for an elevator to arrive isn’t a problem. He pushes both the up and down call buttons rather than having to make a decision. And knows if the down elevator arrives first when we are going up, I’ll grab him and pull him back into the lobby to wait for the right car. Most of the time.

Deciding which floor button to push once we’re in the elevator isn’t a big problem for him either. He makes his selection, but then his finger hovers over his choice waiting for me to agree. Or not. Except when we are headed down for breakfast at our usual hotel in Bangkok. The breakfast buffet is on the third floor. Noom always pushed the button for the lobby. And then follows up by pushing the one for the correct floor. I’m not sure that is about being directionally challenged as much as it is about tradition. Noom is big on traditions. On remembering which floor we are headed to, not so much.

When we are out and about in Bangkok it would be easier if I took care of dealing with getting us to where we are going but Noom is more of a leader than a follower. Which may explain why he has such of a problem following directions. No problemo. He knows I’ve got his back. And I know getting to stare at his gorgeous backside in motion while we walk down the street is more important than whereever it is we are going anyway. ‘Cuz it’s the journey, not the destination. Which, if I become too mesmerized with the view we’ll never reach anyway.

Having at least learned one thing from my days as a boy scout – well, in addition to learning how to diddle the other little boy scouts – when we first started getting lost in Bangkok I’d momentarily take my eye always from what I’ve always considered my primary destination and would call out the direction we needed to go. “Head south,” seemed to me to be a pretty definitive call. I just didn’t know that in Thai that meant turn around and look at me in total confusion. But I’m smarter than the average bear so I quickly changed that call to something that would make more sense to Noom. “Turn right,” made for an easier set of directions to follow. Ooops. My bad. “No, your other right,” didn’t help matters. Noom’s sense of humor isn’t all that much better than his sense of direction. “The one you write with,” however, did the trick.

So if you ever spot a hunky, muscled Thai guy walking down the street being followed by a no-less handsome farang signing out, “The one you write with,” followed by “The one you don’t write with,” a block later, that’s Noom and I. And if you are not positive it is us, if the Thai guy momentarily halts, raises his hand and mimics writing – just to be sure – that’s definitely us.

I speak, and understand, more Thai than I let on, a ruse that I’ve allowed to carry on far too long now ‘cuz if I suddenly became more proficient in his language Noom would worry about who I learned that from. My proficiency in Thai is more about survival and making my days easier than communication anyway. But occasionally I slip. On night headed back to our hotel – our first night spent at that particular establishment – knowing both that the taxi driver needed directions and that Noom would get them wrong I said, “Leeow kwah.” Noom was shocked. “How you know that?” he cried. I thought I was busted. Nope. He missed that I’d jut let loose with a Thai phrase I wasn’t suppose to know; that I already had figured out how to get back to our hotel was what baffled him.

Of course I think that’s all about Noom’s sense of direction. Or lack thereof. Noom know it’s more about me being a farang and just not getting what’s important in the world. It’s why we work so well together. We’re both willing to allow the other guy his peculiarities. And to blame each other’s respective culture rather than finding fault with the person. No matter how trying that occasionally makes life. He probably wouldn’t be as willing to cut me so much slack for my farang-ness, but knows, in the end, I don’t really care where we end up. As long as we end up there together. Which is how it should be. The getting there part, however, can be problematic.

In Thailand – as we American like to say – they drive on the wrong side of the road. If what Thais do behind the wheel can be considered driving. I value my life too much to ever test my driving skills against those of the locals in Bangkok, so that’s not a problem. But logic dictates that if you are in a country where they drive on the left, pedestrian traffic flow should follow. But then this is Thailand where the rule of logic is to do whatever is the most illogical.

You’d think with Thailand being a collectiveness society, the herd mentality would rule. But your first experience making your way down a sidewalk in Bangkok will prove just how wrong of a supposition that is. The crowd may be herd-like in size, but it’s a dysfunctional herd. Half of the people walk on the left, half on the right. And another half just stop and stand there blocking everyone else’s passage while they decide which side of the sidewalk to try next. That must drive German touri completely bonkers. I know, being half German by heritage, it does me.

I ignore the traffic flow on sidewalks in Bangkok and instead keep my eye peeled for ancient crones with umbrellas unfurled when it is not raining. At my eye-level. I assume they all have sons or grandsons who make their living as an ophthalmologist and are just trying to drum up business for their clan. Being capable of multi-tasking, I’d still be able to keep an eye on the crowd’s movement but my other eye is busy watching for dog shit on the sidewalk. Or large missing pieces of sidewalk. Or one of Bangkok’s slithering beggars making their way along the sidewalk.

I don’t think those guys make much money by begging. It’s hard to hold your begging cup up where people can see it and make progress down the sidewalk at the same time when you are missing most of your appendages. I’ve often thought they’d make a better living if the city paid them to clean up the dog shit instead. I mean they’re already down there and all. Same same for the blind singing beggars who disrupt the traffic flow. They may not be able to see those droppings, but when you lose one sense your other senses are supposed to be heightened. So they should be able to smell them. As well as the scent of the slithering beggars who could then do their job instead of having to say, “I got this one.”

Just saying.

Noom and I do, however, use the BTS in Bangkok a lot and the dysfunctional herd along its pathways is a pain in the ass. There is no street to step out into to avoid the crowd so you are forced to deal with a mass of people all trying to claim the same foot of cement while headed in opposite directions. Half of whom are headed the wrong way in the first place. At least those who are following Noom. Like me. But I can go with the flow. Even when it is flowing in the wrong direction. When we hit the stairs, however, the farang, or German, in me comes out.

Following the logic of vehicular traffic in Thailand, you should walk up what, as an American, you would usually consider the down staircase. And vice versa. Unless you are Thai. Then it is a free for all. I usually allow Noom to walk wherever he wants, wherever his sense of direction tells him to, wherever he feels the need. Until we hit the stairs. Then I correct him. It may not matter in the grand scheme of things, but little steps, ya know? And it isn’t about direction so much as it is about safety. Noom knows it’s really about me being farang.

In most cases Noom indulges me in being me. If I insist on only pushing one elevator button in the lobby, who cares? If I think it really matters that we make a right instead of a left, why not? And just because I feel the need to head south instead of north doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. I just don’t have my priorities straight. But demanding that we only walk down what I’ve decided is the down staircase is too much. The first few times I corrected him he allowed it. The next time he asked why. And allowed me a minute to explain before he pointed out what should have been obvious. Sure we’d just gotten off a train and the herd was all headed downward. But the opposite side of the stairway was unencumbered by bodies. “Yes, but it free,” he explained pointing out the empty flight of steps just waiting for us. Huh. He had a point. Or I’ve been visiting Thailand too long.

So now I let Noom lead me down whichever side of the staircase at BTS stations he feels best. Except for at Siam, down is the only way you can go anyway, so we’re safe and will probably end up where we were going. Eventually. And Noom is happy that he’s straightened out his farang on one of life’s little rules: The road not taken is the one with too many bodies on it. I allow him that little victory. Because I love the guy. And because I know, sooner or later, we’re gonna use the escalator instead and Noom will try to go down the up escalator.

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