There was a mosquito attack in our Chiang Mai resort room overnight, producing many welts along the back of my neck and a blood-stained pillowcase reminiscent of a mob hit. The only thing missing was the horse’s head.
During the hit, I did what I thought best. I set up the mosquito netting around the bed for the ultimate protection. I settled in for some much needed sleep. What I realized next, shook my little world. The netting was doing what it was intended to do – block the mosquitos. But there was one major problem. They were already inside the netting. They attacked me mercilessly until I had to get out of bed and sit on the couch. After two nights of this, we complained with all the bitterness we could muster. In my mind I was saying, “I’m from New York and I will take no prisoners.” These front desk people were way too accommodating, diffusing the situation I really wanted – or needed. I needed to vent but all they did was offer reasonable solutions. Damn them. After a couple of moments, we agreed to switch rooms. We thought all will be OK now.
Fast forward to the evening. We got into bed feeling good about our situation. There were no mosquitos in sight (accept the dead one in the bathtub, which was OK with me). We slept well, waking up to another beautiful Thai morning. Except, my left eye seemed a bit blurry. It must be the wakeup feeling a lot of us can get when we first arise. I rubbed my eye to try and clear the haze but it felt a bit puffy. Confused I sought the nearest mirror. Argh! My eye was swollen half shut. I’d been stung again by a lone member of an advanced SWAT team of mosquitos. They obviously penetrated the miniscule security of the resort computer system to determine our new location. Or maybe they just followed us using the tactics of the Mossad. It took most of the day for the swelling to recede, leaving me with only a bruised ego. The resort management team was quite good. At breakfast they came over to see how we were doing. I pointed to my eye. With a downcast expression I went in for the kill, requesting and receiving free body massages. Ca-Chiang Mai!
We only had one more night in the resort. We did a detailed reconnaissance of the entire room, searching for any mosquitos. We didn’t see any nor did we expect to see any as they can be quite crafty. We went to bed reasonably confident that we could sleep the night again. And, we did. Except the flying bandito got me again, this time in the upper lip, which is now puffed up to twice its size. I can’t wait to get the %$&# outa here. We went to breakfast, my hand over my face in the form of a fake moustache. It’s so hard to drink coffee through two fingers and a bulbous lip. Intravenous anyone? Time to head for the airport. I’ve seen Chiang Mai for the last time.