Losing Face: Part 2

Today I behaved like a complete and utter jackass.

Those of you who know me are probably thinking “What else is new?” But in today’s episode I took jackassnosity to a whole new level. If there were Academy Awards for being a jackass, my performance would have garnered me an Oscar in every category.

Because it’s the rainy season here in southeast Asia and I’m tired of getting soaked to the skin, I’ve been searching everywhere for a rain poncho. I've tried on several, and I even purchased one in Thailand, but it never lost that inflatable swimming pool smell, and besides, it was traffic cone orange. Whenever I wore it, I felt like a complete dork...not to mention the fact that I could be seen from weather satellites orbiting the earth. Like Christopher Columbus searching for the New World, finding “El Poncho Perfecto” had become my quest.

About five days ago, I went to a huge market here in Yangon, Burma. There must be at least 500 stalls selling everything from knock-off handbags to fake designer clothes to copies of famous painting to pirated DVD’s of Lady Gaga videos with Burmese subtitles. It is maze-like in its complexity. Even with an iPhone and the Google Earth app, Magellan couldn’t navigate his way through this place.

And then...I found it.

It was a thing of beauty...blue nylon with a sheen like a mallard’s feathers. Reinforced loops at all four corners so that it could be used as a ground cloth. A hood with a drawstring. Heavy duty snaps. And it rolled up easily into a small light-weight pouch. Everything you could want in a poncho and more.

As the angels sang and rainbows filled the skies, I tried to bargain with the shop-keeper. But like an expert poker player who knows he has already won the game, he stuck to his guns and I ended up paying way too much. As much as it rains here, I figured it was a good investment.

The very next day, the heavens opened and a torrential downpour began. Rain was pelting down like buckets of BB’s and the wind was blowing so hard that the deluge was coming down at 45 degrees. I whipped out my handy-dandy poncho, and, like Clark Kent transforming into Superman, felt invincible...and as water-tight as a duck’s you-know-what.

Later that afternoon, when I returned to my guest house and removed my Wonder Poncho, I noticed a strange smell. I sniffed and noticed that the smell was stronger. Turning my waterproof garment inside out, I discovered to my dismay that the entire surface was covered with mildew, which, when activated by my sweat and body heat, smelled like a basement where camping gear has been stored all summer.

I immediately turned on the shower, spread the poncho on the tile floor and began scrubbing it with soap and hot water, but to no avail. It was then I discovered that not only was my poncho a petri dish, but it also had multiple small holes in it.

“Sexual intercourse!” I exclaimed as I scrubbed harder, but the only thing going down the drain was the pride I had felt in my Perfect Poncho. And worse still, I knew it was the only one the store had in stock.

Returning to Yangon a week later, I decided to return the poncho and try to get my money back. I knew from the outset that this was a fool’s errand, but having spent a good sum of money, I decided it couldn’t hurt to ask.

I was mistaken.

Unlike the States, where you can purchase a surround sound home entertainment system and then fill all the empty boxes with rocks and return them for a full refund as long as you have your receipt, such is not the policy here in Asia. “Caveat emptor” is the Lating phrase for “once you’ve bought it, whether you like it or not, you own it.” Buyer beware.

I returned to the market place, feeling like Theseus entering the Labyrinth. But unlike the hero from Greek mythology, I had no beautiful Ariadne waiting for me, and no thread spun from gold to help me retrace my steps.

For about an hour I searched in vain, walking up and down the cramped aisles until my head was spinning. At long last, I passed a stall where I had inquired about raincoats on my previous visit to the market. As I described the shop and the salesman I was looking for, a passerby overheard me and led me straight there.

En route, the wind picked up, blowing over an umbrella covering a food stall. I grabbed a nearby bucket of water and hung it from the bottom of the stand supporting the umbrella. Problem solved. A stranger was doing me a favor, and here was the opportunity to pay it forward.

Putting on my biggest smile, I entered the shop and approached the salesman.

“Hi, I was here the other day and you helped me...I bought a poncho. Do you remember me?”

“Of course!” he said, returning my smile.

“Well, I have a small problem...I wonder if you can help me. The poncho is...”

“...dirty inside?” he responded, finishing my sentence for me.

“Son of a b***h !!” I shouted (inside my head) as my blood pressure went through the roof. I couldn’t believe this joker had ripped me off and then so blatantly tipped his hand!

My head was about to explode, but I kept an even tone of voice. “Yeah...and it’s got a lot of holes in it too.”

“I exchange for you...no problem.”

But it was too late. I knew I’d been had, and he knew it too. Furthermore, he didn’t have another poncho like the one I’d already paid too much for, so I knew he’d offer me one of lesser quality since mine was top of the line and not agree to make up the difference in price. Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened.

Blinded by pride and principle, I refused what could have been a quick and simple solution. Discovering that the poncho was defective was one thing, but finding out that this knucklehead had taken me for a ride was another matter entirely. My blood was boiling.

“I have a suggestion” I said, struggling to maintain my composure. “How about I give you your poncho back, and you give me my money back?”

Jerry Seinfeld in his heyday didn’t get the kind of side-splitting guffaws and gales of uncontrollable laughter this elicited from all the salesmen in the shop, several of whom had gathered to eavesdrop on our conversation.

“I’m not leaving here without a refund...or a poncho exactly like this one, but without the mildew and the holes!

The salesman turned and walked away, still chuckling.

“I’m your worst nightmare” I heard myself say, the volume and pitch of my voice rising. “I’m not leaving Yangon for another three days, and I’m gonna camp out here and tell every customer who comes in here what you’ve done”.

“No problem” he retorted. “You stay here three days...three months...three years. No refund.”

I’m not one to make idle threats. In my foolish haste I had brashly announced my ill-conceived plan, and now I had to show I meant business. I sat down on a nearby stool, rolled up the poncho in my lap, and tried unsuccessfully to adopt an attitude of cool detachment.

A few minutes later, a customer walked in. I stood up and approached him.

“Do you speak English?” I inquired.

“Yes.”

“I bought this poncho here, and they sold it to me knowing that it was dirty inside. It’s also full of holes and now they won’t give me my money back. I thought you should know. Be very careful before you buy anything here.”

I smugly returned to my perch, certain that my boldness would do the trick.

“You should check inside of poncho before you buy. No refund.” the salesman admonished, a smirk on his face.

A few minutes later, a group of potential buyers entered the store. Again I approached them, and like the Ancient Mariner, told them my tale of woe. They left the store without purchasing anything, and I was certain this would induce the salesman to rethink his position. Instead, in an angry voice he shouted “You very unlucky man!

Having spent the past several days touring the country with a guide who is a devout Buddhist and who repeatedly spoke about karma and “non-attachment”, I felt my face growing red with embarrassment and shame. But I’d gone to all this trouble and climbed way up here on the skinny branches and now was no time to lose my nerve. Like Davy Crockett at the Alamo, I decided to make a stand.

We all know how that story ended.

Despite having had my epiphany about non-attachment, my hubris fueled my audacity as I began to explain the concept of karma...in a country which is 98% Buddhist! He stared at me blankly as I told him “what goes around comes around.”

“I’m Muslim.”

“Have you noticed that none of your customers are buying anything? So...do you want to give me my money back, or shall I just sit here?

“You have bad mind! You only think one way!” my adversary rejoindered.

Ouch! That hurt. I knew he was right.

To make what should have been a short story even longer, I realized that I was going to spend the rest of my natural born days banging my musty-smelling, poncho-shrouded head against a brick wall, and given the fact that my visa expires in two days, my extended stay would result in ever-mounting fines from the government, followed by imprisonment.

My resolve began to soften.

I’ll spare you the rest of the gory details except to say that at some point I wised up to the fact that I was self-righteously trying to impose my beliefs about what’s right and fair on a guy who fundamentally and categorically wasn’t gonna budge and who had clearly and emphatically told me so from the outset. I left with my tail between my legs and my self-control and dignity smeared all over the floor.

I caught a cab which took me to the wrong address, hiked to a repair shop to be told that it would take 6 weeks and $170.oo to fix my camera and was given incorrect directions to a bookstore only to discover that a guide book for Sri Lanka (my next destination) is not to be had at any price in the city of Yangon. And then I stepped in some chewing gum.

Besides being a complete ass, I had set foreign relations back further than the Bush administration, and to top it all off had wasted quite a bit of what little time I have left in this beautiful country filled with people who have been nothing but friendly, helpful, generous and kind to me.

Except one guy, who taught me a valuable lesson: Look both ways before my karma runs over my dogma.

Footnote: I neglected to mention that I did eventually exchange the Almighty Mildew Holey Poncho for a cheaper one. I wore it for the first time yesterday and apparently it's made of some kind of ultra-suede which not only doesn't repel water, but absorbs it. You get wet slower, but when it's completely soaked it weighs about 5 pounds and I'm guessing will take about a week to dry in this humid climate, by which time it should have a nice coating of mildew.