“Hey! Gentleman! Come to taxi,” the driver-thugs of Bangkok prowl the touristy streets of Sukhumvit or Sathorn Road. Like crouching tigers, they lie in wait to entice that hapless tourist to a long, expensive ride.
“Which terminal, sah?” Sitting in the cab, a thick accent now broke my musings. Accented English had worked my defences up. I reflexively clenched my fists, gritted my teeth and even let out a low growl — getting ready to fight out yet another con game.
Ashamed, I relaxed. I was only headed to Heathrow with a driver who spoke with a Cockney twang!
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