-^-for posterity-^-

xe om drivers

i left on a terrible red-eyed trip from lx to hcmc. i was crammed between a fat lady wearing all black and a lot of jade and an even fatter twenty-something girl who tried her best to avoid moving at all costs. the bus left at midnight and we were expecting to sleep. being stuck between a hormel ham and a tyson turkey lead me to inevitably sweat. the man behind me would not stop snoring and making odd noises. at one point it sounded like he was trying to drink something in his sleep. i dozed off for only about an hour and a half.

before jumping on the bus i met a bunch of xe om drivers. xe om drivers are an interesting lot. they are all men in their twenties or thirties that can find no other employment except to drive people around on their motorbike. their one asset is that motorbike which they perch on rather like birds waiting for the next customer. they huddle together and chat and have a reputation to be drunkards. before you get on a xe om, you should do your best to smell their breath.

these men were sitting outside waiting and i had twenty minutes to kill so i sparked up a conversation. they were wonderfully friendly people and had disgusting nicknames for each other which they proudly explained to me until one of the older drivers said, 'hey, guys, he's a teacher we shouldn't be telling him these things.' we talked about where i was going, hanoi, and how i was going to get there. they said i should have gotten a bus at about three o'clock which would have put me in saigon at about seven thirty with a flight leaving at eight. they said it was no problem and that the plane would probably wait for me anyways. our experiences have been an entire world apart. we talked about september 11 and they said how terrible it was. i normally explain that i am from america and normally people ask, 'what state?' hoping that i'll say california or texas. i say pennsylvania and they all nod and pretend to understand so i always say, 'it's really close to new york.' so, that's what started the september 11 conversation. they wanted to know what the city was like on that day and me, not being one to explain to them that i was in university and that i don't normally even visit the big city, simply said it was crazy.

we're all going for coffee next monday.

then i arrived in hcmc. i came a bit too early and wanted to get some breakfast and have a cup of coffee before the trip. i walked around in the early morning right after the sun began to rise and illuminate everything. i walked for a few minutes constantly being hounded by more xe om drivers. everyone thinks your a tourist so when you say something in vietnamese they get a bit of a shock. i told them that i was happy walking and that, in fact, they should try it seeing as how it is healthier than driving a motorcycle. one driver puttered beside me while i was walking. he chatted me up and was determined to find out where i was going. i told him i was looking for a place to eat breakfast. he said he knew a place. i said it was probably very far away so he could charge me more. he said it was close. i asked if he had breakfast yet. he said no. i said, if he took me there, i'd buy him breakfast. he said sure.

i'm so much like my dad and uncle phil standing on the sidelines of a soccer game it's not even funny. taking a complete stranger to breakfast and asking a million questions about their life, how much they make, how long have they been doing it, everything. it's the exact same as chatting up the old guy standing next to you while you watch your 14 year old scurry around on a windy autumn day.

my xe om driver looked exactly like dean frankenfield except that he was vietnamese and poor. he looked like what dean frankenfield looks like in my mind if he's going out hunting. he had on a thick jean jacket over a long sleeved practical shirt. he had on a type of hunting hat and had a thin mustache and a very sincere smile. i found dean's long lost vietnamese brother and he drives a motorcycle in ho chi minh city.

we chatted it up and he had things to say and ask. he wanted to know where i was from, what i was doing, where i was going, where i came from, everything. we ate pho. he is obviously poor (as all xe om drivers are). he had a wife and four children and he had been a driver for the past fifteen years. he doesn't make much money but he enjoys taking people around. he says that the korean girls are the most beautiful and he enjoys taking them the most. he says he also takes a lot of foreigners and makes the most money from them.

i enjoyed this man. he was a clear headed, kind hearted person. he listened patiently while i spoke and answered all my questions thoroughly. he was not a very smart man but you don't have to be smart to be amiable. sometimes, smart people are the hardest to handle.

we began our trip to the airport and i wasn't sure if he was going to rip me off. sometimes xe om drivers will chat you up and not name a price until you arrive and then try to 'ban cat co' or 'sell to cut ones neck'. i thought he might try to pull something sneaky. on the way there he said that i should meet my family. he fingered it was a domestic flight so check-in wouldn’t be a problem. his family lived near there and it would only take a second. i agreed.

his house was small and packed with people. his wife, four children, mother in law, two brothers and their families. they were all waking up and he brought me in like a freshly killed 12 point buck. i was introduced to everyone, offered tea and more things to eat and then wrote down all my personal information. he wanted to know my name and what it meant and listened patiently when i tried to explain it all. he wanted me to draw a map of the united states and show him where i was from.

he wrote his information down and his youngest brother was sitting next to him in his underwear. he wrote slowly and meticulously. every tone was correct and every word spelled right. at the end, his brother cajoled him because he forgot to put the name of the city down so he jotted 'thanh pho ho chi minh' at the bottom.

he took me to the airport and chatted with me the whole time. he showed me buildings and told me where i should go and what i should do when i have a free chance. we got to the airport and he let me off. i tried to pay but he refused. he was sincere and truly was only interested in being friends. he smiled broadly and sincerely, raised his hand and drove away making sure his thick jacket and hunting hat were still in place.