In the Golden Triangle

Chapter 24: Ugly Jeans

Devon plucked at the polyester comforter listlessly. The room was warm despite the valiant efforts of the small AC unit in the corner. Sounds from the street filtered in through the thin hotel window and she glanced towards it. She had no motivation to look down from her third story room to the streets of Bangkok.

A headache was beginning to form at the base of her skull, and she knew she should drink some water. Or eat something. But neither of those things appealed to her as much as remaining splayed out on the firm hotel bed. She closed her eyes to try and alleviate the pressure building behind them.

The flight from Chiang Rai had arrived in Bangkok in late evening. They had immediately gone to their respective hotel rooms, but Devon had not been able to sleep. The bed was too big and the ambient noise too strange. Gone were the cicadas and the distant hoots and calls of wildlife. Replaced by honking horns and people on the street.

Instead, she lay in bed and pretended like she wasn't thinking about every decision she's ever made.

Early this morning she had precisely 48 minutes to meet with Mr. Changthotong. Why such a specific number, Devon didn't have the energy to ask. Peppering him with rapid fire questions took her mind off her current emotional state but it didn't fill her with her usual sense of adrenaline. Normally questioning someone for an article gave her a thrill. There was nothing like hunting for the truth.

But as she suspected, Mr. Changthotong didn't have any more information for her. The fact of the matter is, he and the lawyers with him were fighting a losing war. Not even a losing war, they were fighting a battle by themselves. There was already a narrative in place that drugs were the enemy and the people wanted change, even at the expense of a few lives. Surely losing a few lives was worth eradicating such a terrible scourge on society? Surely some mistakes were acceptable as long as the final result was the same?

How does David fight Goliath when Goliath doesn't even need to show up to the battlefield?

Any excitement she had to finally get to interview Mr. Changthotong died as swiftly as her aspirations for her article. Her article had no end. There was nothing concrete she could give her readers. Whatever she writes will most likely end up being someone's bathroom read, or a poor attempt to sound intelligent with world events at a backyard BBQ. Any thoughts that she might be able to help somehow, or change the world, fizzled to nothing.

"Are you sighing dramatically because you're trying to get my attention, or are you actually hypoxic?" John groused, looking up from his perch at the small desk seated directly beneath the AC unit. He complained that the unit in his room wasn't as good, and so had set up a small nest in her room. A notebook was opened in front of him and she could see his wrist moving in sweeping lines across the creamy page. It had been ages since she had seen him so focused on his art.

"Sorry. I didn't realize I was doing it."

His pencil paused above the paper and he turned to face her. The fact that she didn't immediately come back with a quip, or a sarcastic remark was unusual. He watched her for a long moment.

"Was the interview not good?"

"He was very forthright and full of information." she said without any emotion.

Dropping the pencil, he turned in his chair and gave her his full attention. "You'll figure out this article. You always manage to pull something out of your ass on the eleventh hour. It's basically become a superpower for you at this point."

Devon appreciated his attempts at cheering her up, but she couldn't muster any energy to respond. It wasn't that she doubted her ability—she knew she would write a tantalizing article that checked all the boxes. It would be laid out in an informative, yet entertaining way. The facts would be presented as unbiased truths with just a hint of her personality peaking out between the lines.