As we sat, enjoying Thai coffees and beers, after finishing our walk through Wat Pho, it began to thunder. And eventually, rain.
Not drizzle. Rain. Downpour.
We made our way to the pier and waited for the water taxi to arrive and bring us down the river, back to our hotel.
After running the few steps between the covered pier and the boat, my pants were soaked. But I settled into a seat and watched through the plastic windows which had been lowered in an attempt to keep passengers dry. Dryish.
We made the first stop and continued on to the second. Passing under Memorial Bridge and approaching the Chinatown pier. The driver announced the stop. And suddenly we were spinning around. Facing back towards Wat Pho. As passengers began to look around, a little worried, the winds blew us toward the edge of the river, into a metal pier. The front of the boat hit hard. We spun around again, the wind propelling us back and forth. And into another boat. DD had reached for his life preserver, bright orange under his seat, and informed us that This Boat Could Sink In No Time.
More amused than worried as the boat finally made it to the Chinatown pier and on down to the stop at the Sheraton, the water taxi was filled with chatter as passengers recounted the events.
