The new technology may be efficient, but it’s destroying an older, simpler way of life
This week I received a photograph sent to me anonymously through the mail. It appears I’ve been captured on film doing something illegal _ and somebody is demanding money for it.
Minds out of the gutter, please. As if I would allow myself to be photographed in that way. I’m extremely selective about where I’m seen, and make a point of frequenting nocturnal establishments with strict policies of leaving recording devices at the cloak room. Or towel pick-up. Whichever is closer. Anyway, who said the photograph was of me? It was my car, cruising majestically down the motorway in the direction of Chon Buri in the early afternoon sun, highlighting the stark lettering of my licence plate. Yes, all right, I got a speeding ticket. Not the first one I ever got in my life _ that was for hooning down McCullough Road in Sunnybank, at a breakneck 60kph _ but certainly the first I ever got here that was so, so cool! How modern and up-to-date of the police to have this technology. I almost wanted to find a safety pin in my sewing room, and affix the picture-ticket onto my shirt and strut around Siam Paragon. All I had to do was fill out the form on the back of the pic, send it off with a nominal 500 baht fine and that was it. And so I did, pausing to write ”Philosopher” in the space enquiring as to my profession. I was tempted to write ”Bangkok Post columnist” but being dragged out of my house at midnight in my Fly Now pyjamas never to be seen again is not part of my life plan. According to information below the pic, I was doing 130kph in a 120kph zone. Blame the government for that; it was 1.35pm and I had to get to a Chon Buri liquor store before 2pm lest I wouldn’t be able to buy any Bacardi Breezers for another three hours. See? Antiquated liquor laws cause dangerous driving! It seems everywhere you look the Thai police force is stepping into the 21st century with new devices, and not just speed cameras. There’s also a brand new thing called ”e-tickets” that started exactly two weeks ago as an experiment in Thong Lor and Bang Na. It turns out 154 e-tickets were issued to motorists and bikers who parked in forbidden zones, didn’t wear their seatbelts or felt helmets just didn’t do anything for their hairstyles. Speed cameras … e-tickets … Thailand is changing fast. Mind you, if change was what the police want, I personally would have started with their uniforms. The last time I wore zip-up brown polyester shirts was when Ring My Bell was No1. Whoever decided that was a good look? And what work is that person doing now _ designing for Bangkok Fashion Week judging from some of the presentations I saw this year. While all these changes are good, I have to admit I am a little nostalgic for the past, when breaking the law and getting caught was so much more civilised. I’ve been driving in this country for 15 years, and in the pre-E-Ticket-and-Evil-Motorway-Speedcam Era there was a very nice system in place. We’re not talking big crimes here like grand larceny or murdering a Robinson salesgirl for saying one too many ”No haves”. I mean silly driving things like crossing a lane too quickly or forgetting to indicate or, the most trivial of all, doing 130 in a 120 zone. Upon encountering a traffic cop he would announce your misdemeanour and say in Thai: ”Show me your driving licence.” This can be translated as: ”Show me your driving licence and place a folded 100 baht note underneath it so neither of us can see it.” Brilliant. First of all, everybody wins. I don’t have to go through the drawn-out process of going to the local station and paying a fine of at least 500 baht. The officer makes some extra money and on his dismal wage he needs all the help he can get. And best of all, nothing needs to be said. In no time you’re on your way and both parties are happy. I can’t imagine the indignity of a Sunnybank cop if I dared to hand over my driving licence along with the equivalent of A$3.30. I’d be in some dark holding cell at the Cop Shop quicker than I could say Detective Danni Francis. Then I’d be hauled through the courts on bribery charges and incur the steely stares of Sunnybank village elders for years, finally fleeing overseas to start a new life in _ Thailand? And they say Australia’s civilised! My very favourite experience with a Thai traffic cop occurred 10 years ago when a Learn-English book of mine was enjoying time at the top of the best-seller lists here. One day I was hot-footing it along the freeway towards Uruphong when a cop stepped out and waved me over. He was a happy soul, probably around 30, with a growing belly currently undergoing torture thanks to the pervading crush of brown polyester. Nevertheless he was jovial as I wound down the window and he said, in English: ”You! You go fast! No good!” ”Sorry _ won’t do it again khrap,” I replied. ”It’s OK! No problem!” he smiled. ”You give me money!” That’s when the conversation changed into Thai. ”Sir, you can’t ask like that,” I said, shaking my head and looking unhappily down into my lap, as if there was something monstrous there. His smile turned into a quizzical frown. ”What do you mean?” he asked. ”Well, you can’t just blurt out a demand like that. It sounds ugly and doesn’t make you look good. There are far nicer ways to say it.” ”Like how?” he asked. ”You could start with ‘Please give me some money,’ I guess. Or you could even make it into a question, like ‘May I have 100 baht, please?”’ ”May I have 100 baht?” he repeated in English, and I waggled a finger at him. ”Don’t forget the ‘please’ at the end. It makes what you’re saying sound so much better.” ”May I have 100 baht please?” he repeated, and raised his eyebrows. I nodded approvingly, and he thrust out his clipboard and pen. ”Can I trouble you to write it down for me?” ”Sure,” I said. ”You know, we even have some idioms.” Now he was fascinated. ”Like what?” he asked. It took me five minutes to teach ”Please grease my palms,” and ”Please make it worth my while,” and even ”You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours,” although he had terrible trouble pronouncing ”scratch”. It came out as ”scat”, which was unfortunate since someone once told me that was a sexual fetish _ something not normally associated with men in zipper-hugging brown polyester. The officer and I parted soon after. I didn’t have to pay him anything, though I did give him a signed copy of my best-seller, and he came away with all sorts of new words and phrases he could use. I often wonder about that guy. Did he ever employ any of those phrases on the next farang he pulled over? Can you imagine the motorist’s surprise confronting a Thai traffic cop who could hardly introduce himself, but could sail through ”Please make it worth my while”? Those days are long gone, thanks to the scourge of e-tickets and shady photographs of black Teanas breaking the speed limit. What a pity. Technology changes everything … we have merely scatted the surface.
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