Four For Friday- Bangkok Part Three
When you are going to be sick, the last thing you want in this world is to have to face being sick in some port-a-potty in the middle of a film set in the heart of Bangkok. Even in LA, a film set port-a-potty is something you dread. Put that sucker in the middle of a set when it is 90 degrees outside with 90% humidity and see how you feel. Why don't you throw in some jet lag and drenching sweat to go with it. That is what I faced. Almost immediately after spying the cheater head back into his trailer, I could feel it coming. That inevitable feeling you hope will pass that you are going to be violently sick. It felt awful. I frantically looked around and spotted a port-a-potty. I dreaded it but I didn't have much choice. I was going to have to get on my knees in that vile contraption and hope for the best. I so wished I had been drunk right then just to make the whole thing a little more palatable.
I opened the door. Yeah, it was even worse than I imagined. The smell pushed me over the edge and I didn't even bother closing the door as I heaved. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Honestly, the only saving grace was that I left the door open. Confined inside would have been the end of me. They probably would have found me there at some point. As it was, an actor who we will identify as JC saw me. Legs half out the door, bent over and came over to help. I heard his voice asking if I was OK. Judging from the guy in the suit bent over, he probably assumed I was another victim of the never ending nightlife in the city. A hangover would have been preferable at that point. I knew it was food poisoning. It is an easy self-diagnosis. There is no other explanation for the violent explosion or feeling you get from food poisoning. When I was in the sixth grade I had my first episode. An all you can eat seafood buffet. What could be wrong with warming lights and seafood in an open environment? I tell you that I didn't touch any seafood for a decade after that night.
When JC asked for the second time if I was OK, I wanted to make some kind of smart ass remark, because, I mean who is OK if they are puking in this situation? I whispered food poisoning. I got a knowing nod in return. I still don't think he was convinced at that point that it was not a hangover. It turns out though a week earlier he had dealt with the same issue. The guy actually reached out his hand and helped me up off the ground and took me over to his trailer. Can I tell you a feeling I remember to this day? When he opened the door there was this rush of cold air that came from that space like none I had felt before. It almost knocked me over, but in a very good way. The best way I can describe it to you is to go to somewhere where it is really hot and that first step you take into an air conditioned public space where someone else is paying the air conditioning bill.
That cold air saved me. I am convinced of it. He pointed to a couch in the trailer. This is a guy I had never met but I did a face plant on to that sofa like I had known him for years. That sofa felt like heaven. For the next two hours I would alternate between that sofa and his tiny bathroom. In between, we talked a little bit. I knew who he was of course, but we talked about this and that. Some common people we knew. At some point he had to go film and I told him I could make it the length of a cab ride to make it back to my hotel. He insisted on getting a car for me. Have I told you how great this guy was? I remember just being a shell while in the back of that car on the way to the hotel. When I got there, it must have been late afternoon. Cocktail hour. The noise was not at the same level it had been the night before. Had it really not even been 24 hours since I got to town? I made my way through the throngs of men, some of whom had their afternoon dates with them.
When I closed the door to my hotel room, I dropped down to a section of cold tile that was in between the door and the carpet to the rest of the room. I think I passed out there for a couple of hours. It was definitely dark when my stomach erupted again. The sofa in the hotel was not nearly as comfortable as the one in the trailer. Back and forth I went for most of the night. Time was not something I was paying attention to. No television. Just a dark room and the path between sofa and bathroom.
At some point during all of this I got a call. I remember it was JC and the guy was checking up on me. I don't remember it and I never thought to ask him later, but I must have given him my room number during that call because shortly before sunrise there was a knock at the door and there he was. The guy filmed all night. Instead of going to sleep, the guy came across town to check up on a guy he didn't know. He told me I should get some rest in the bed and not the sofa. I will tell you the hotel bed felt amazing.
When I woke up, there was sun coming through the windows and I could hear people either in the room above or next to me having sex. Loud sex. I also realized it had been hours since I had been sick. I staggered out to the living areas of the room to raid the mini bar for some bottled water. Sitting in a chair in the living room watching television was JC. Yep. He stayed.
I could go on about this guy, but I made it a point from that point on to say positive things about him whenever I had a chance. Bought him dinner and lunches for years every chance I could. Just an angel. No other words to describe it. After making sure I was going to live, he took off to go get a little rest before he had to start shooting again. I had some water, called the airline and moved my flight up to later that night. I wanted out of there. I left almost 48 hours after I arrived. I actually had the same flight crew for the second flight from Taiwan back to LA as I did on the way to Taiwan. I also had a row all to myself. I didn't eat though. I think that stretch of time might be the longest I have gone without eating.
Craziest 48 hour trip.
