Say Hi
I landed at night, checked in, and went straight back out. To say hi. One to three drinks per bar, half an hour of hellos, then move on. Five stops. I was back in my hotel by 4AM, and fell asleep happy.
I keep a mental list of the things I'm bad at. Keeping in touch is near the top. I don't text people enough, I don't reply fast, I disappear for weeks and pretend that's just how I am. But in Thailand I don't disappear. I walk into a bar I haven't been in for months and the staff just nods, like I came back from the restroom, and that nod fixes something in me that sending messages never does. It seems easier to show up than to keep up. Showing up is the only social skill I have, and it's the only one that place needs from me.
I used to think I went for the drinks. I still do. I sometimes plan the trips around them. But I realized the drinks are the excuse. What I'm actually doing when I land that first night is checking that the world I left still exists, that everyone and everything is still standing where I left them. Five stops in one night, an inspection, and I always come back relieved.
There's a small thing that happens there that I think about more than I should. One night a bartender handed me my bill and three drinks were missing from it. I told him, of course, because apparently I'm honest only in directions that cost me money. He checked the bill, looked surprised, which had mistakes, then said it's ok anyway and walked off. It's common for bars to not charge for some orders for regulars, but this was an obvious legitimate miss. I keep coming back to that. It wasn't a favor I asked for or earned. It was just how he saw me, and it made me feel like less of a stranger than I usually feel anywhere.
That's not the point.
I want to be honest about what these people are to me because I don't ever get to say it. I've known these people for years now. I've watched them open their bars, change jobs, get girlfriends, survive slow seasons, fight, make up, move cities. They've sat with me past close, fed me when I hadn't eaten, remembered my orders and my stories from a year ago. Most of my actual friends require effort from me and I mean that as a complaint about myself, not them. These ones never did. They just kept the door open. I trust them with more than I trust people I see every week, and I've never told them that. I think they know anyway. That's what I'm grateful for the most.
I'm going back in December. I miss them already, which is a stupid thing to say about people I see a few weeks a year. I don't have a good answer for why, still. The bills come out short. The nod is always there. Food and hugs are warm. The invites and care are always present. Good enough reason for me.