Observation Diary of a Taiwanese Couple on Bangkok Bus No. 53

February 12, 2018, Bangkok.

At night I got on Bus No. 53. The passengers in the carriage were scattered, and the air was stuffy and heavy with a smell that mixed sweat and the unique scent of a tropical city. The author sat by the window, watching Bangkok’s streetlights recede one by one outside, occasionally catching a glimpse of the golden roofs of temples or the neon of night market stalls.

Just two seats ahead sat a young couple.

From their accent and the overall “feel,” the author guessed with about eighty or ninety percent certainty—they were probably from Taiwan.

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The story starts here.

The woman first lifted her feet and leisurely propped them up on the platform at the front of the bus—a posture that was very relaxed, treating the place like her own living room.

The driver saw it and corrected her almost immediately.

There was no extra tone—brief, direct, non-negotiable. The woman put her feet down. The author actually thought this scene was quite good—Thai people care a great deal about “feet” in public places. Feet are the most unclean part of the body, and raising your feet to point at others or at sacred things is a rather impolite act. The driver corrected it quickly and correctly.

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Next, the author’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward the man.

He was wearing a pair of… how should I put it.

The length reached about mid-thigh, and one could even say that if you put it on as boxer briefs, the size and cut would be perfectly fine. The pattern also quite matched this association—that kind of lively geometric print was practically on the same track as the series in the underwear section of a department store.

The author couldn’t be sure at all whether this was a very short pair of shorts or a very serious pair of underwear.

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Then the woman.

She was wearing a local traditional outfit, which was a big plus—following local customs and trying on local clothing is originally a good thing that makes travel more immersive.

However, there was a big hole in the back.

It wasn’t the kind of deliberately cut-out open-back design by a designer, but the kind—look closely, there are loops, there are buttonholes, they just weren’t buttoned—of a purely forgetful big hole.

The shoulder strap of a pink undergarment was clearly visible; the position of the back clasp was plain to see. If any passenger in the rear half of Bus No. 53 turned their head, they could admire the “hidden open design” of this traditional outfit.

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(Public decency patrol activated.)

This was the subtitle that automatically appeared in the author’s mind.

Actually, there’s nothing much to criticize—who hasn’t, while traveling, rushed out the door in a fluster, worn something out of order, or made some embarrassing scene that they’d want to find a crack in the floor to crawl into when recalling it afterward? The author is no exception.

It’s just that on this stuffy Bangkok night bus, all of this happened to occur simultaneously two seats ahead—truly a rather complete composition of a travel vignette.

Outside the window, Bangkok continued its clamor amid the lights.