Mr Dang, He's Not My Lover...

We had arranged to hire a taxi for the day today to take us to Ayutthaya (Thailand's ancient capital for about 400 years) for some more culture, but after last night’s drunkenness, I call the driver (Mr Dang) and ask him to pick us up at 11 instead of the original 0930 – what were we thinking?!

As we are waiting outside the hotel, this taxi driver comes up to me and asks where I am off to, and I politely tell him we’ve booked a car (which was late). I call our Mr Dang and he says he’s one minute way. In the meantime, this other driver is sitting waiting and watching me. After about 15 minutes, with no sign of Mr Dang, I call again and I see the other taxi guy answer his phone. He comes over again and say’s that he’s Mr Dang. WTF?

And he’s got a bright pink taxi. 

Ayutthaya’s about an hour’s drive away and the minute we set off, Mr Dang puts on a CD and starts signing and dancing away to Michael Jackson at full volume. It’s going to be a long LONG hour’s ride…