Another year, another flood

Almost exactly a year ago, I sat in a hospital bed on the ninth floor under a clean white sheet,  in pale blue pajamas, dreading the floods. Calculating. The rise of the waters, the strength of my limbs. The ways that I could and could not leave Bangkok. Everyone, even the doctor himself, was thinking of the floods all the time, and one day he told me there was a conspiracy. See, the government had failed to properly drain a dam, the rice fields should have gone first but to spare them they flooded the industrial areas.

Bangkok was right outside my door but it looked on television like all disasters do in foreign countries. Remote and chaotic, someone’s mistakes compounded by nature.

Who built this place?

 Who built this this silly sodden city of broken wet things? 

The superiority of the outsider shot through with the panic of the imperiled.

Onscreen the waters bobbed and sparkled darkly, swallowed cars, looked innocuous and then terrifying in their languid but endless seeping. Humans in rag doll clothes loaded onto rafts — someone doing the heave-ho.

I watched the news from my bed between spoonfuls of pad Thai which always arrived on a nice ceramic plate sealed under plastic wrap from the hospital kitchen downstairs. Watched. Ate. Calculating. Outside was dry, but for how long? I asked the skyscrapers that twinkled benevolently.

My part of Bangkok, where the hospital was, remained dry. But everything was sandbagged in preparation. Weird little low sandbag walls, maybe two feet high. The hospital said it would evacuate us if we had to go.

Soon I made the decision to leave town, and before long, thanks to my travel insurance and the fortitude of my friends and family, was safely home. But even at home, even then, I couldn’t pass a body of water — a river, a drainage pond — without eyeing the liquid’s distance from the lip. Everything was always almost spilling.

I lived in New York for just a semester. A brief home, but still. To see my former city under similar threats and more…. I’m watching now from Chicago. Watching on a screen, everything filtered through pixels. It could be somewhere far away, but it’s here.  A strange and hard reminder that no matter how far  you are from disaster, you are very, very close.