So you had a bad day...

This seems to want to be my theme song lately. Last Saturday was my conference and the day started off on a bad note as soon as I walked out the door. I got ready, dressed in my new suit (which needs a bit more alterations to be exactly like the picture of the Nordstroms suit I showed them)and walked out my door with a rolling suitcase packed with Andy's laptop and all my handouts. It was extremely heavy and being in a wool suit in Bangkok is difficult in the first place. I felt very flight attendant like. Anyway, I walked, and walked, and walked, and waited, then decided to walk some more. Taxis don't seem to be around at 7am on a Saturday, but can you blame them? I was a sweaty mess by the time I had walked a few miles and questioned by a large soi dog. He hated me from a few yards away and as I approached, his hatred only grew. I ignored him as I passed, but when I looked back he was gone. Well, gone from his original guarding spot. Now he was attached to my suit jacket that was hanging on my suitcase. I feel somewhat better that I, friend maker to all mangy mutts, was not the thing he had passionate anger towards, it was the unruly flailing coat jacket that needed to be taught a lesson. After prying his jaws away from my new suit I made my way down the street with no sidewalks but plenty of ditches and holes, and continued to get honked at by cars (not taxis) going in both directions. Did I mention I was wearing high heels as well? FINALLY a taxi stopped and I was able to make it on time to meet my friend Stephanie who graciously was acting s my assistant during the conference. As we got off the BTS we struggled to carry the 50 pound suitcase down the stairs and had an interesting conversation about male chivalry. Most women agree that So Cal men are horrible and Mid West or East Coast men have all the manners. We both agreed that even in Southern California, (we went as far as to say in the OC!)a man would have stopped to help us. It's just different here. Yesterday I was waiting with a cart full of groceries for a Pok Pok to take me home when a man and two women came in front of me and took the Pok Pok that arrived. I didn't let them leave with out a small glare of disapproval. Anyway, back to my day. My presentation was rushed because we started almost a half hour late and I was told not to make them late for lunch. Fitting in an hour's worth of material into 35 minutes was difficult, but everyone stayed at least 20 minutes after to ask questions and get more information. After, my principal told me that I "sure look the part" and again, I felt belittled by her. We are in month 4 and still, she has not stepped foot in my classroom. Soon she will do a formal observation of me with out having a single informal observation. I'm so excited for her to judge my teaching by "just popping in at any given time during the week." Anyway, it was made clear in a few words that my school can only send 2 applicants for EARCOS and with there being 4 of us wanting to apply, the two "newbies" will not get the opportunity. Never mind that I believe both our topics are more qualified, or that I had about 15 more people sign up for mine than did the veterans (that do not have a Masters might I add). Bitter? Nope, not me. So, to end my long, tiring, Saturday I took a taxi home with 3 other women. The taxi ride took about 2 hours, one hour of which I had to pee extremely bad. We dropped each person off and then it was my turn. I finally got to my house, paid, ran in and peed. Half stream realizing I left my suitcase (with Andy's lap top) in the trunk, I hopped up, ran downstairs, and down the street. I ran to my guards and said "Bag" and "Taxi". With a lot of arms flailing they seemed to understand and called a number. Luckily (I thought)they keep a log of all taxis coming in our village. They looked at their log and had some Thai writing and a number. This seemed promising. I was trying not to cry (because that is extremely socially inappropriate) but the tears were streaming down my face. They handed me the phone and I wasn't sure who I was talking to but he spoke English and was asking me what seemed to be irrelevant questions. I asked him what the chances were of getting my bag back and he said, "because we have the name, 60/40." Those didn't seem like the best odds. I called my landlord Pak, who is SO helpful and he made a lot of phone calls and said I should go to the police on Monday if it wasn't returned. He said the guy should be smart enough to come back because we have his name, but he also said that he didn't really work for the company he claimed to. So, I went back home and waited for something. I called Andy Hysterical and because he is a better person than me he was understanding and much calmer. He told me to do what I could (he was in Malaysia) and the worst case scenario was that we had to buy a new one. I felt so guilty! It is Monday now, and I will hopefully convince Pak to go to the police station with me. It doesn't look like we will be getting it back, but maybe if we continuously go to MBK (Thai mall) we will one day see it there, all our pictures on it and everything. The moral of the story is that I am an idiot and cannot be trusted with anything.
Here is a picture of me in my suit. Please picture it with very big black buttons and taken in a bit at the waist. It will be much cuter if you do, trust me.