Back in Vancouver it seemed that not a minute went by that a police siren wasn't screaming its head off, day or night. And with the generous abundance of Dunkin' Donuts dotting the landscape there were always a few men and women in blue within hailing distance.

It begs the question: are we Canucks a lawless bunch of cutthroats and thieves and jaywalkers? Are we all just waiting for that unguarded moment when the long arm of the law is washing cruller crumbs off his or her taser-fingers in the privacy of the DD washroom so that we can go out and perpetrate some heinous crime such as smoking a cigarette within 6 meters of a public doorway? Or brazenly driving around on the thoroughfares with a burnt-out light on the rear license plate? I bring this up because I only recalled the seeming overabundance of flatfoots by way of contrast: here they don't have any donut shops, and hence, I guess, they basically don't seem to have much in the way of law enforcement.

 

Picture this: a motorbike, all 125 roaring cc's of it, putts by in perfect nonchalance under the scorching Thailand sun with not one, not two, but FIVE people aboard. Mom, Dad, the toddler, the pre-schooler, and mother-in-law bringing up the rear. And not a helmet in sight. OK, so there I was, casually driving down Hastings with my wife, little Jimmy (he got his first tooth last week!), Sally (starts kindergarten in the fall) and Gladys (visiting from Chilliwack 'coz she likes to spend a bit of time with the grandkids), and heck, we were only going 30 kliks on the old happy honda on account of the, well, the Gross Vehicle Weight, and of course we weren't wearing helmets, because they restrict the passage of wind through our hair, for one thing. Next thing I know there's a friggin' S.W.A.T. team all over us, they're slappin the old bracelets on Granny 'coz she's got that mouth on her, and I'm looking at ten to ninety in the Big House, unless Harper and the boys manage to get that capital punishment thingy back on the books in which case I'm toast. But here in Thailand, even if we did drive through the rare helmet check roadblock (because they actually are compulsory here) all I have to do is get Granny to show them the helmet, the one helmet, that's tied on the back and we sail through while all the farangs line up to pay their 200 baht fines. "But Officer! I thought helmets were optional here! I've never seen the locals wearing them!" This in fact did happen to Ea once, and since then we both wear them at all times, which makes us a rare sight on the roads of Koh Phangan. And driving on the wrong side of the road? Well, it was only for a little ways, because we're going into that store right there, and we could see the oncoming traffic perfectly well, what's the big deal? And stopping at a stop sign? Well, I slowed down, didn't I ? There was nobody coming. Lighten up!

Now try this: go into a seveneleven and buy a coupla' brewskies, yes, please, open, kop khun kop, and then go out and sit on the sidewalk in front and suck them back while watching entire clans bike by, one clan per mo-ped. First of all, you're thinking "beer at a seveneleven?" Yeah, or Sang Som rum, or something sort of spelled like Remy Martin, but more like Beny Morton, or wine that's not french. Or coolers that don't inform as to what exactly has been cooled for your beveraging pleasure. Out front of the store. Grab yourself a seat and knock yourself out. So what if it's 3 o'clock in the morning? What, is there some law against it? Apparently not.
But don't smoke any wacky terbacky in the open, and don't say anything nasty about the Royal Family, because that WILL get you a whole pack of trouble, and I'm not sure, but I think there's no cafeteria in the jail, and definitely no swedish high density foam mattresses either. Hot showers? Yeah, right!
And by the way, the men in blue here are actually the men in brown. I saw one once.