the man

Yesterday I was woken up at 8:30 by Poo coming home from taking Jason to school.

I got out of bed, asked Poo to make coffee, went to the computer and started to download the Arsenal highlights.

"We have a flat tire," said Poo, who had just inspected the truck.

"Oh," I said. I thought to myself: I'm not working, just being a lazy bum. I should be a real man and fix the tire.

"OK," I said, "I will fix it."

"No," said Poo, "don't trouble yourself, me Lord," (Poo is getting sarcastic now, even using Shakespearean English). "I will call 'the man' to fix it; it costs only 100 Baht (3 dollars).

I thought some more: really, I should fix it myself. But then I thought some more; I imagined getting my hands dirty and straining my back with the jack.

"OK," I said, and Poo picked up the phone. 30 minutes later, the phone rang. It was 'the man.' The tire was fixed. Poo went downstairs to pay him.

5 minutes later, Poo returned, huffing and puffing. She was angry.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

She exclaimed, "It was 200 Baht!" (6 dollars). "If you drive it to the garage, it's 100 Baht, but if the man comes to fix it, it's 200 Baht!"

I'm so happy I don't live in America. There, "The Man" means the Police, aka Johnnie Law, usually a poorly-educated, trigger-happy, schizo-paranoid nimrod who can ruin your life in an instant. Also, any interaction with "the man" (the one with a wrench) costs at least $100, but any interaction with "The Man" (the one with a gun) costs at least $500.