Sitting on the veranda of my cheap hotel in Chiang Mai, reading a Ripley novel, I heard an angry throat clearing on the stairs behind me. It was my neighbor from a few rooms down, a tall, fit, 60-ish American wearing jeans and an awful orange t-shirt, topped off with one of those horrible leather cowboy hats, sunglasses and a mustache, no smile or greeting. Quietly following him was a Thai woman, 35 or so, full figured buy not unattractive. He reached his door, turned to her and said, “please hurry,” not in a polite way. She answered low, “I’m sorry,” without altering her pace. When she got to his side, he held out his hand and said, “key.”
There are Thais who think that this is typical American behavior. These guys should be keel-hauled.