One of the best things about living in Bangkok is that I know — no matter where I am or what time of day it is — that I can poop my pants. I mean, I wouldn't want to poop my pants intentionally, but accidents can happen to the best of us.
And it's good to know that if the unforeseen does happen, even at 3:30 am in Ramkhamhaeng on a rainy Thursday, I'll still be able to find myself a clean pair of underpants thanks to 7-Eleven.
Now, I've known for a long time that 7-Elevens in Thailand sell underpants. When I first moved to the Land o' Smiles, the fact that a convenience store would sell underwear struck me as kind of funny — convenience stores in the US don't tend to sell underpants. Nachos, porn and the occasional crack pipe, but rarely underpants.
The true realisation of how useful having quick access to clean undies could be didn't occur to me until this morning when I was paying my electricity bill.
I looked down at the display of underwear and thought to myself, "Wow, I'm really glad those are there. You know, just in case I poop my pants or something."
I don’t know why this thought occurred to me just then. I'd never considered that particular need, and I have trouble imagining any scenario in which I would poop my pants. But all of a sudden it seemed to me a great comfort to know that if I was struck by a sudden, inexplicable bout of incontinence, I'd know just where to go to replace my soiled under things.
And the great thing about 7-Elevens here is that you're never more than 30 metres from one. If the store you're in is sold out of underpants, all you have to do is cross the street to the 7-Eleven just across the way and get underpants there.
American moms are obsessed with the condition of their children's underwear. I don't know why. They're always warning their kids to be sure to put on clean underpants before they leave the house. When asked why by their incredulous offspring, the inevitable response is always: "In case you're in an accident."
I'm sure that these moms are talking about things like car crashes or falls down flights of stairs or meteor impacts or something, but what good clean underwear would be in those situations is still beyond me. Chances are that, to this day, if any of those things did happen to me, I'd probably poop my pants anyway. Nobody would even know if I had been wearing clean underwear before tragedy struck.
But it is nice to know that as the paramedics drive me slowly away through the gridlocked Bangkok traffic, I'll be able to hoarsely whisper a last request through my death rattle and have them pick me up a clean pair of underwear on the way to the hospital.
Sean Vale
Editor
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