My Legacy in Bangkok

As a short term missionary you live for those moments when you know that you are leaving a lasting impression—when you’ve made a difference that’s tangible, lasting, and… well concrete. Last Friday night I had one of those moments. I had just been dropped off by the sang tao and was walking the rest of the way home. As I strolled down the street I noticed that something was different.
“That’s weird,” I thought to myself. “Where are all the street vendors?” Typically the side walk is crowded with make-shift shops and eager peddlers. But as I continued onward I saw only a smooth void of concrete.
“I guess they all pack up early on Friday nig—.” Suddenly my foot slips and I start to fall backwards. My spacecat-like reflexes kick in and my other foot slips backward to catch my fall. Close call. I look down in bewilderment. No banana peal in sight, just cement…cement that is wet…I’m walking on wet cement. As any good American I immediately wonder, “Why didn’t they mark it off? Where was the sign?” I look around hoping no one saw me. Immediately behind five solid footprints bear witness against me. Looking up I see a few Thai ladies peering from their shops.
“Give me a break, ladies. Where I come from we have clearly demarcated areas complete with a graphic of a man slipping just when someone is mopping a floor. We even have warnings on our coffee cups informing us that our coffee is in fact hot. I need something to tell me the cement is wet. I'm not smart enough to figure it out myself.”
At this point I would like to say that I thought about how I could make it right—you know, like when you back into someone’s car, you leave a note with your number on it, right? Yeah, I didn’t think about that at all. I just wanted to get out of there with as much dignity as a big, illiterate white guy in Thailand can muster. So I exited to my left stepping over the rope boundary wisely placed on one side to make sure no one walked into the construction zone—yes they put one there, but not where I had entered. I walked down an alley and never looked back. Actually that’s not true, I went back to see the damage. A dog or two had also been victim. I actually have been noticing a lot of the cement work in the city since the incident, and there are often footprints imbedded in the sidewalks. Apparently spick and span cement work is not a priority to the city planning committee of Bangkok.
So there it is. That’s my lasting impression on the city of Bangkok—something concrete I can go back to and say, “I made that. The city will never be the same because of me.”