I was sitting in the upstairs food court of the __________ shopping mall, twirling my fork into a sizzling plate of spicy noodles. With the skyline of Bangkok hanging in front of me, I cast my eyes over at a row of floor to wall windows and soaked in the sweeping city views.

It was dusk in Krung Thep. And the city sat in its usual outline, its usual patina of haze. The city’s glass-plated skyscrapers pumping their usual neon blasts. Then the sky began dimming, as if a knob were turning, and I glared in open-mouth silence as a mass of dark clouds crept forth, threatening a torrential downpour. 

I returned my focus to my food, and while chomping on big bites of noodles, I noticed a stranger’s silhouette sitting down to a seat nearby.  

Weirdly, he wasn’t eating, and his body was shifted toward mine. Suddenly I had that feeling one gets when they know they’re being watched. And I could sense the stranger looking over toward me. I could feel his eyes.

But I minded my business. Didn’t meet his gaze. I’m not usually one to start random conversations with strangers. Especially in Bangkok. Bangkok (and Thailand) is sometimes referred to as the “Land of Scams,” due to its preponderance of dodgy characters and wily strangers who’ll try to cajole you into a vast array of confidence tricks, so it’s best to be cautious who you talk to.

It’s worth mentioning, too, that the Thais are generally an inherently shy, reserved people, and not apt to speak randomly with strangers. So if a person approaches me, unsolicited, especially in a public place, in Bangkok, I’m highly skeptical of their intentions…

(It could be reasoned, too, that anyone, anywhere talking to random strangers, unsolicited, on the street, is likely NEVER anything good…)

A perfect defense for unwanted, unsolicited salutations, I’ve found, is wearing earphones and pretending as though I can’t hear anything, even if I can, and to smile, shake my head, politely, avert gazes, walk briskly, and continue on my way.

That’s not to say anyone speaking to strangers in Bangkok is a scammer. There are some expats who like talking to strangers, usually other expats, and I understand that, have nothing against it; possibly they’re just friendly, outgoing folks.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Then there are also some expats who’ve lived for years in non-English speaking countries, and when presented with the chance to speak with someone of similar origin, they’ll jump at it, start talking like they’d just snorted a line of cocaine.

And hey, I can understand that too. They might see another expat as someone they might finally be able to have an intelligent conversation with, someone they can talk football or politics or visa issues, 90-day reports, or someone just to grumble to.

Or maybe they’re just lonely.

Being an expat can often mean much time spent in solitude. And there are some who like it that way… And others who struggle with it…

A spiral of noodles I bit into were spicier than I anticipated, exploding in my mouth with searing heat. The noodles must have been packed with additional hidden clumps of chili peppers, and the intensity of the taste caused me to tense up and sneeze, clearing out my sinuses. As I was blowing my nose into a wad of napkins, I heard a European accent cut through the collective hum of the food court. It sounded German, the accent, and it was asking, “Is it spicy?”

“Sure is, but it’s tasty. I love Thai food,” I replied, shifting my eyes and laying them on the stranger who’d been sitting next to me, wordlessly, for the last few minutes.

“Are you American?” the stranger asked, and I estimated his age at 60 something. The stranger had a somewhat stereotypical, stout, Germanic look to him, with a bit of a beer belly, and a bushy white mustache spreading over his upper lip like a bad rash.  

“That’s right. I’m from Buffalo,” I replied, averting prolonged eye contact. Then I wiped beads of perspiration from my brows and returned to my noodles.

There was a certain fire in the stranger’s glare that was unsettling. Of course, this being Thailand, it would have been easy to label him as a child molester of some sort, as Elon Musk did to that diver, and yes, the stranger had that tree jumper, kiddy fiddler type look to him, like a guy you’d see on To Catch a Predator, that kind of creepy old guy gestalt.

But I tried not to rush to judgment. Look, despite widespread perceptions and beliefs, and despite that I even recently heard the comedian Andrew Schulz, on Theo Von’s podcast, shitting on Thailand for its pedophile problems, despite that, the truth is, after several years in Thailand, I’ve not heard or seen much about pedos. Allegedly they’re in Africa, South America nowadays. Pedos are like a species of parasite that flock to wherever they can feed, satiate their sickness, and most recently, at least according to an article I saw on Vice, that’s in places like Madagascar.

So yeah, maybe the guy was just starved for conversation. And I obliged him. Started spitting small talk.