Breakfast in Bangkok

To Chicago it was 90 minutes. Took about 13 hours to get to Tokyo. Then an easy five hour saunter to Bangkok. All in all it was a wonderful 30 hours of constant low-grade stress and discomfort, with regular intervals of terrible food served hot as hell. Luckily our agent Peter Mills secured us exit row seating on both of the long flights. I guess I could've been crushed between two American type II's for 13 hours. I guess that could've been a scenario. Or I could've been forced to sit next to Gary for a plane ride of any duration. The only comfort there is, at 38,000 feet, maybe it's easy to feel closer to God.
The continental breakfast is included with the 1280 baht a night rate here at the Reno. The breakfast was simple and good. Morgan had a fried egg and a sausage that was a shade of bright pink I had never before encountered. Astonishing. There are a grip of French nationals swaggering around and saying bonjour to the locals and the chairs and the walls. Anything that will listen, really.
Morgan just came bouncing down the stairs to the lobby and declared that he just took a massive dump in the utter pitch black of the bathroom in room 340. I think he's in the throes of a jetlag-induced dimensia that is not to be dismissed lightly. He just spent the last 40 minutes studiously transcribing simple Thai phrases onto a napkin. I'll have to keep an eye on him and hope this thing doesn't turn seriously weird.
Now we're off to the gear shop to secure a rental on a couple microphones and see about a few other things besides. Interviews with the interns will be happening in the next couple days. Cross your fingers. It's humid as a pistol here in Bangkok proper, and you can cut the heat with a bayonet.