Scammed and the Stupidity Tax

Let me preface this tale by saying that one thing this trip has taught me is that I shouldn't be allowed to travel on my own.  Though it makes for interesting stories at times, I can be a mess when I'm alone.  Who knows what would've happened at Crazy Johnny's without Nikki or in Columbia without Brian.  Ugh.

The second preface is that this story is really, really embarrassing.  In hindsight, everything is so obvious -- this is completely my own fault, and it's reasonably difficult to share this story because it is so embarrassing.  Oh well -- I promised to share my stories good or bad, so let's get started...

After talking with Laurel, I raced home and instantly started doing some searches. 

Yes -- I had been taken for a ride.  The place that sold these "jewels" was notorious for selling significantly overpriced "jewels" if they were even "jewels" at all.  Essentially, they scam the tourists.  What I also learned is that I might have some recourse and in some cases, people were able to recover 100% of their money.  However, this required going to the Tourist Police in Bangkok.  Luckily, I was scheduled to fly back to Bangkok prior to going to London.  However, I only had about a two hour window between returning to Bangkok and flying out to London, so I figured that this wouldn't be enough time to resolve the issue -- one of the trips had to change; either the Ho Chi Minh City - Bangkok or Bangkok to London.  I knew that AirAsia operated two flights a day between Ho Chi Minh City and Bangkok.  One flight arrived in Bangkok around 9am and one arrived closer to 8pm (the 8pm flight was the one I had already booked).  If I could change my AirAsia flight to the earlier one, I might have enough time to visit the cops and still make my 12:45am flight to London.

Ok -- the clock was ticking.  I tried to change my ticket online, but the AirAsia system wouldn't let me, and their ticket agent office wasn't open on the weekend (it was Saturday night when I was trying to do this change), so I flew to a travel agency; literally -- I don't think my feet hit the ground. 

They were still open -- whew!  I talked to them; they understood me and did some calling around.  They wanted to charge me $130 to change the ticket even though the whole roundtrip ticket cost $125.  I told them that I already had a leg and wanted to do a change, and the agent told me "AirAsia no changes.  New ticket."  I knew this was bullshit -- I had just been on the site and you can generally make changes online, so I declined this offer.  I reasoned that if I needed to be in Bangkok for a couple of nights, I can get a room and most of my food for less $.  This, of course, was dependent on American Airlines being able to change the flight.  I called the American Vietnam office and they were closed for the day, so I nervously went to bed, figuring worst case scenario, I could change my flight at the Bangkok airport...

With good reason, I didn't sleep well at all that night.  I woke up Sunday morning and was pressed for time -- not only did I want to try American again, I had to check out by noon.  I showered, packed and called the American Vietnam office -- oh, what was that??  I didn't hear the automated message the prior night correctly?  They're closed the entire weekend...Aah!!

I did a couple of searches and found the American international 800 number.  Now, if only I could figure out how to dial an 800 number from my room.  It was 11:10am at this point.  Tick.tick.tick.tick.  More internet searches.  Every time I dialed, nothing worked.  Tick.tick.tick.tick.  It was now 11:20am. 

Finally, I saw a way online to use a calling card (or credit card) to call their 800 number.  I called the AT&T operator and was patched through to American (free of charge, amazingly enough).  The past few times I've had to call them on this trip, I was sent to India, and it was a pain trying to explain what I needed.  This time, luckily enough, I was patched to Dallas and a pleasant woman. 

My hope had been that I could push the flight back one day -- unfortunately that wasn't an option and I had to push it to Tuesday evening (tonight).  Well,  I gotta do what I gotta do.  There was a slight tax fee being charged and the woman said she would research it -- it's 11:52am now.  Tick.tick.tick.tick.  She came back on and told me that she thought it was unfair that I was being charged the fee and she waived it.  Thanks!!   We hung up -- I snagged my bag and room key and got to the desk in plenty of time -- 11:59am (not that it really would've mattered had I been a couple of minutes late; I just don't like being late).

The next step was to book a hotel.  I did this from a coffee shop offering free wi-fi (another joy about this place -- free wi-fi is offered everywhere!).  The place where I previously stayed had a room available at the same rate -- I figured that since I was already familiar with how to get there, and it was a reasonable price, I might as well do it.  I booked two nights and was ready to head back to Bangkok. 

During the flight to Bangkok -- the whole scenario kept repeating in my head.  I'm sooo stupid...

The first day I tried to go to the Grand Palace, I decided the best way to do it would be to take a train out to where the train stops (which is about 2-3 miles from the Grand Palace) and then either walk it or catch a cab the rest of the way.  Once I got out of the station, I was greeted by a gentleman in business attire who spoke reasonably good English and introduced himself as a volunteer for the tourism ministry.  Another guy, similarly dressed was a few feet from me, "helping" another tourist.

My "helper" told me that the Grand Palace was closed due to a holiday and instead offered some other places I should go.  He circled three locations on my map and hailed a tuk-tuk for me and told me not to pay more than $3 for the entire day.  I thought this guy was really helping me out and had negotiated a sweet deal for me.  The tuk-tuk took me to the first place, a temple where (in hindsight this should've thrown red flags, but I was green to Bangkok and yet to visit any temples so I didn't find it odd at the time) only one other guy and me were in attendance.

The guy introduced himself as "Andy."  He was an Asian guy wearing an English national soccer team jersey and spoke perfect English.  We talked about where we were from -- he claimed he was originally from Singapore but currently lived in London and had spent some time in the US working in the Silicon Valley. 

After awhile, he asked if I had been to visit a gem distribution place yet (face palm!! -- judging by the people I've told already, everyone in the world except for me has heard of this scam...I feel like I fell for the "Nigerian wire transfer" scam). 

In the back of my head, I felt like I had heard about this, but in the schemes I had heard, the taxi drivers will try to take your there -- for some reason, I didn't put the connection together because the tuk-tuk driver wasn't trying to take me there and the guy who marked on my map and hailed the tuk-tuk for me hadn't mentioned it all. 

"Andy" went on to tell me that the prices are really low and that you can find really inexpensive gifts relative to the gift's value.  He even said, you're limited to buying three things, so buy something nice for your girl, mom, whomever, and buy two other pieces and you can sell them to pay off the item you want to keep.  He even said that since I was coming to London, he'd be happy to meet me in London and we could sell whatever I didn't want to keep (face palm!!).  He offered to give me his phone number, but I said that I wasn't using my phone, so he gave me his email address -- andy_nn4537@yaho... or some such.  He even gave me a card from the "store."  (face palm!!)

I guess I felt that everything was a hustle in Bangkok and this was no different -- if you wanted to get in on the good deals, you have to bargain, and this was just another example.  Sadly, I can admit that no alarm bells went off in my head -- instead, I just thought -- "Ooh - more cheap souvenirs!"  (face palm!!)

So -- I told the tuk-tuk to go there (ugh!!), and he obediently followed MY instructions.  Long story short, I went in, met a guy dressed in a suit who spoke English as well as Andy, and bought some crap (I have no business buying jewelry -- I just looked for the "sparkly" stuff).  They gave me certificates of "authentication" and the fuckers even GIFT WRAPPED them for me.  (Oiy -- this is painful even retelling the story -- it's so freaking obvious).  For the rest of the day, and well, even the rest of my time in Bangkok, I walked around like an idiot, thinking that yes, the emperor did have clothes, after all.

I first began to think something might be amiss a few days later when I had emailed "Andy" and heard absolutely nothing back from him.  I'm sure whomever was on the other side of the email address got a kick outta it.  No biggie, I thought, I got such an excellent deal, I'll just gift everything if I can't sell it.  Whatev's.

Then, as I told the story to Laurel, her face dropped and well...

The plane landed in Bangkok and I was pissed.  I'm sure I took at least a millimeter or two off my teeth during that flight from all of the teeth grinding.  I couldn't wait to get to the Tourist Police to get this resolved...

The next day, armed with the Tourist Police's location, I set out.  I read online that the police want to be treated respectfully (don't we all), so they respond better to well dressed people.  Keeping that in mind, I put on a nice pair of jeans and a nice shirt.  Of course, the mirage of the prior week's beautiful and temperate weather had morphed into a sweltering mix of heat and humidity.  By the time I got off my train, I was drenched in sweat.  It was so bad, my shirt was sticking to my chest.

I grabbed a scooter and we danced around the traffic in record time (ahh -- the joy of the scooter...these guys will pass anyone at any time; it's awesome!!  mental note -- that's how I need to drive my motorcycle from here on out!) and he pulled all the way up to the front door of the building (yes -- on the sidewalk, of course).  I paid him and went inside -- my heart was pounding.  The scooter ride cooled me down a little bit, but I still looked disheveled.  Before entering the building, I looked at my surroundings.  I had been dropped off in a tourist "no man's zone."  We definitely ain't in Kansas anymore.  As I entered, stares bounced off me from the left and right. 

I harnessed my focus and walked to the information booth.  I asked the woman working the desk if she knew the Tourist Police's location.  She grinned, muttered something in Thai, and I gathered that she didn't speak English.  Ok -- this will be a little harder than I thought.  I found a map of the building and didn't notice anything that looked like "Tourist Police."  My gaze caught a security guard by the elevator.  I figured he might know the location, so I approached him.  I tried asking him about the location, and...Same problem; no English.  Luckily, a woman who did know English, happened to be waiting for the elevator, and she translated for me -- the Tourist Police station has moved.  "Does he know where it is?"  I asked.  "No," was the response.  Shit!  My head started to ache, and I felt like I was beginning to spin.  I had no idea where I was other than "southeast of the heart of the city," and I felt trapped in a world where I couldn't communicate.  Furthermore, I couldn't tell if the guard was fucking with me or not.  In my readings, I came across several articles that said that the Thai police are notoriously crooked.  Is this some way to deter tourists from reporting crimes to the police?  I hated that this thought even crossed my mind, but now, I found myself less trusting.  Ahhh!!

I walked around inside the building for a few minutes in order to calm down.  I noticed another "Information" desk manned by two sweet looking women.  I figured, what the hell, I'll try my luck again.  This time I first asked the two women if they spoke English -- "Yes."  Thank god.  Then I asked if they knew the location of the Tourist Police.  "They moved," was the response -- ok; I don't think the security guard was screwing with me.  They told me where it had moved (on the other side of town, fairly close to where I was staying), and they told me the location of the nearest train station -- they pointed the direction.

Ok -- now I'm on to something.  I graciously thanked them and headed out.  Unfortunately, the train station was about 5 miles away (I didn't realize this until I walked the majority of the way).  Again, I was drenched in sweat, and right around the 4 mile marker (when I still couldn't see the station on the horizon), I paid a scooter to take me the rest of the way.  The scooter knifed through the traffic and arrived in a few minutes.  The hunt is still alive!  I bought my train ticket and I was off.

Once I got off the train stop that the women had told me, I noticed that there's a tourist information desk in the train station -- ok; this will help.  I asked the woman working in the office where the Tourist Police station is located.  "Oh, next stop -- National Stadium; not this stop."  Ahhh!!  Ok -- where at National Stadium?  "Not in the stadium; just behind."  Well, I don't know how you beat directions like that, so I went back upstairs, caught the next train, and got off at the National Stadium stop.  I had now downed two water bottles, three hours had elapsed, and I was drenched, tired, and cranky.

I got to the stadium and amazingly see a sign for the Tourist Police.  The directions were vague and just pointed forward.  I walked about 400 yards before I found it (sorry, I was too pissed to take pictures of this particular journey).

The Tourist Police Station was a 4 story building in what can be best described as a crappy strip mall.  The front door was open, but was no sort of receptionist.  Like entering a cold pool for the first time, I first dipped a toe into the building.  Eerily silent...Ok, well time to figure this out.  I walked inside and immediately was greeted by a staircase.  I headed up the first flight and I encountered several people who smiled at me, but no one offered any sort of help.  I continued to climb until I met an older (probably in his early 60s) bald guy with a deep brown tan and glasses pinned to his nose.  He was wearing a white polo with "Tourism Police" embroidered on the front, olive cargo pants, and sandals.  He limped towards me.

I instantly began my story.  He nodded and asked me for a receipt.  I gave it to him and he made a call with his cell phone.  No answer.  He motioned me to follow him downstairs.  He called again, and this time got a hold of someone.  They talked for 8 minutes and then he hands the phone to me, "He wants to talk to you."  Ok, why do I need to talk to this guy? I thought.  On the other end was the unmistakable voice of the guy who sold me the bunk shit in the first place.  He asked what I wanted and I told him that I want 100% of my money back.  I told him that I'd be happy to return his jewels.  He  responded, "Not going to happen."  I told him that I'll bring the police with me.  He said, "How about 90%"  Ah -- we're getting somewhere now, I thought.  I hold my ground -- 100%.  He moved a little more -- "How about 90% and you can keep the jewels?"  I'm not interested in them, I bark back.  I want 100%!  The convo then moved in a direction I didn't anticipate.  "In order to get 100%, you'll have to file a police report with the regular police and file a claim through the court."  He laughed and told me to go ahead and do it.  "Thai police are corrupt," kept playing in the back of my mind.  He repeated, "If you come down here, we'll do 90% and you can keep the jewels."  I figured, what the hell, at least this will get resolved and I'll have a rather expensive lesson in stupidity, but I'll have some interesting conversation starters. 

I gave the phone back to the cop and told him that the shop won't do 100% but I explained the 90% offer.  The cop shrugged.  He walked over to a scooter, grabbed his helmet and motioned me to join -- clearly he had never done this before (that, ladies and gentlemen, is sarcasm).

I figured maybe I can still get 100% -- once I was there, perhaps I will have called their bluff and they'll relent.  If nothing else, I'll cause a commotion and tell all the other people in the store that their shit is bunk. 

When we pulled up, I'm greeted by 4 "henchmen" waiting outside the shop.  They said, "follow me, please" and opened the doors to the shop.  None of them touched me, but they immediately maneuvered me to the stairwell.  As I passed by the shop's floor, I saw one unfortunate soul looking at the jewelry.  I climbed the stairs and was taken to a spartan office. 

A bitter looking woman with too much makeup sat behind the desk and offered me a seat.  In a very calm fashion, she told me that she understood that I wanted to "sell back" my jewels, and she'd be happy to pay me my 80%.  I told her hell no and that I came for 100%.  "Whaa?" her face responded to me and she started talking very quickly in Thai to the cop.  Clearly, they were negotiating something.  She turned back to me and said, 90%.  I told her 100%.  She told me to call the Thai police and file a report with them.  She picked up the phone and while she maintained a shit eating grin, she offered to dial their number.  The implication wasn't lost on me; maybe this was a bluff, but I didn't think so (though, admittedly, I'm obviously not the best judge of liars).

The entire time, the cop sat there like he was about to fall asleep.  Perhaps a more appropriate description would be that he sat there like he had seen this dance played out hundreds of times before.  After a few minutes, I defeatedly agreed to 90%.  However, I said, I want the refund in cash.  "You pay in Visa, you refund in Visa."  I asked her how I was supposed to believe that I'll actually get the refund.  "We file report with police," she said.  "You get refund in 14 days."  I had read online where it actually did look like the refunds were given through credit card transactions, and they typically took 14 days. 

"Ok," I said, "but I'm keeping the jewels."  She looked puzzled again and said, "this buyback, you no keep."  I told her to bring the other guy in here because we negotiated 90% plus the jewels.  She refused for a few minutes.  I refused to sign her paperwork.  She finally relented and called the guy.  She passed the phone to me.  "90% and we keep the jewels," he said.  Goddammit!  I turn to the cop and told him -- this isn't what we discussed.  He shrugged.  I told him, "You and I just talked about this."  He said nothing.  He did nothing.  He just fucking sat there.  Goddammit!

We finished the "transaction," and before I was escorted out, I asked where was the police report -- she hadn't given anything to the cop.  "We fax it," she retorted.  "Oh yeah, I'm sure you will," I muttered.  I was escorted out -- again the same sad guy was on the shop floor, receiving the same sales bullshit I did, but about 17 sets of eyes were trained on me so I regrettably didn't say anything.

I had, however, made up mind that I was going to stand outside and warn any other potential victims.  Once my foot hit the pavement, I turned to ask the cop, "What the fuck??" when I saw that he had already hailed a cab and pushed me inside.  "Where?"  he angrily asked me.  I didn't say a word.  "Where?!"  he demanded.  I told the driver some random train station.  As we pull off, perhaps one of the more obvious things hit me -- the police are in on this scam, too!  I'm certain that his negotiation with the "manager" was his fee.  We negotiated this "deal," but there are no police files to complete, and the bastard didn't even take down my name.

Traffic was awful and after 20 minutes we had moved about a fourth of a mile.  I then told the cab driver to take to me the nearest train station.  I realized that I didn't have the cop's name, phone number or email address.  What happens when the shop refuses to give me back the 90%?  I'm going back to the police station to get it...

I exited the cab, caught the train and made my way back to the police station.  I walked the stairs where a middle-aged woman greeted me.  I started to explain my story and she shook her head.  She motioned for me to follow her.  She took me to the station's basement where a fleet of about 20 people sat behind desks.  I looked around for my officer and didn't see him.  The female cops asked me what I needed.   I tried to explain that I just wanted the the cop's email address (try miming that -- it's challenging), but no one spoke English.  I'll let that sink in for a minute...No one in the "Tourist Police Station" spoke English.  That ladies and gentlemen is one of the bigger WTF moments of the trip! 

The female cops told me to sit down and wait.  Then, in such a surreal moment that I couldn't help but laugh -- I was so defeated, pissed, frustrated -- the female cops all started hitting on me.  They asked if I was married, if I spoke Thai, if I liked Thai women, and then they proceed to tell me that I very hansome, sexy, and have pretty eyes.  Ugh!! This is so ridiculous.

Finally a younger guy showed up who knows English and got the email address and phone number for me.  As I left, the women, almost in unison, said goodbye and waved.  Ugh!!

I headed back to the train station completely disappointed.  This was the first time that I really felt alone on this trip -- dealing with crooked cops; encountering almost a full day of people who either didn't want to or couldn't speak English.  Ugh.  This was the worst day of my traveling adventures thus far.  When I get my refund, I'll be able to laugh about this -- it's still a little too early right now...I had decided I needed an escape so I went to the movies -- a place where I could escape and physically cool off.  Movies here are in English with Thai subtitles, so it worked out.  Also, there was a creepy "trailer" for the king, that appeared to discuss what an amazing person he is.  Everyone stood during the "trailer."  Creepy...
The icing on the cake was returning back to my hotel.  I had given them some clothes to launder and they failed to do so.  They had attached a note to my laundry bag saying that they had forgotten to tell me that the clothes wouldn't be ready until the next day, so they didn't do it since they didn't have my confirmation that this was ok (even though I would still be a guest the next day).  Ugh!!

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my tale of paying the stupidity tax.