Abusing trust or power is something no person should ever do. Stories about the notorious corruption of Thai police always seemed distanced to me; I had nothing to worry about. Usually the people in these stories are high school tough kids, motorcycle racers, or just about anyone breaking the law but ready to pay for police protection. This story is about me.

You may have read in my blog about my band practices every Tuesday and Friday evening. Every week, after class on Tuesday, I change clothes, grab my instrument, and take the BTS Skytrain to Victory Monument (อนุสาวรีย์ชัยฯ) station. Then I take either a bus or motorcycle taxi to Suan Oy where the practice studio is located. Last Tuesday I got to Victory Monument at 5:50 which meant I was going to be a few minutes late if I took the bus through dense rush-hour traffic. Motorcycle taxis are great for these situations if you don't mind bumping elbows against review mirrors a bit. There are too ways into Suan Oy, a street with restaurants and apartments for Ratchapat Universtiy which sits across the road. One end comes off the main road and turns into Suan Oy. The other entrance is from a small side road which our studio is on. Motorcycles come in the back way because they can stop, get paid, and return to their posts without having to dodge traffic and university students. This is a normal routine for me.

This Tuesday was different. As soon as we made the turn off the main road on to the small side street, we were stopped by five or six men in dark clothes, waiting between a pickup truck and a stone wall. As they surrounded us, I could tell they were wearing the standard dark green police uniforms. Police road blocks are a normal procedure here, and a good one I feel, as they help to stop many from drinking and driving. I certainly had no problems answering a few questions and moving on. Tuesday was different. They formed a circle around the bike and asked us to get off and park the motorcycle. The road was barely big enough for two cars to pass without scraping against eachother. One officer asked "Ai nong, what are you doing in this area?" Coming in the back way, eh?" Police split the driver and I up. "Been doing any drugs today?" I explained I was on my way to practice, at the end of this same dark alley. "You can go" they told the driver. They looked at my guitar bag as if I had a riffle in it. "What's in the bag?" I'll give you three guesses. Now isn't the time for sarcasm. I opened the bag to show my guitar. The bag was taken out of my hands. I could tell there was one boss leading the gang here. "Open it all up, it's here for sure." The motorcycle guy was asking to be paid now. I paid him and he started his bike and sped off onto the main road. I didn't mind the police checking my bad, I had nothing to hide, but why weren't they setting things up under a street lamp with big STOP signs like they normally do? "What's this?" They had found a rolled up ATM receipt in the smallest of 7 pockets on my case. The boss stared at me in the dark. "What's this? Nervous now aren't ya? That's it for sure, open it." They opened the crumbled up receipt. My stomach was starting to turn. If this had taken place during the former PM Thaksin's "War on Drugs" I could be shot in the middle of this alley, without a trial, if these policemen wanted to meet their quota and plant drugs on me. Nothing. The receipt was just a receipt. "Sir, I'm just coming to play music like I always do. I'm not interested in selling or buying drugs." This time I was speaking. The boss looked disappointed had me zip my guitar back up and put all my tools and things back in the pockets. "You just keep your mouth shut. He's got some on him for sure. Make him piss." What? Was this a road block or what? These guys wanted me to be someone I wasn't for sure. Did I want to take some roadside test in a dark alley, run by 6 guys who obviously needed to find something? One police officer took my arm and lead me to the wall only a few meters away. He pulled out a plastic kit, removed what looked like a piece of pH testing paper from my old days in chemistry class, and handed me the plastic wrapper. "Do it quick." I was supposed to fill the plastic wrapper while the cop watched. I was praying my friends, a few hundred meters down the road would somehow walk down to help me. I wrote my name on the wall, and put only a little into the bag. I turned around and went to give the bag back. A hand grabbed my arm and I was asked to tilt the bag. One officer shown a flashlight, another dipped the tester and swirled. They held the stick up, now green, and shown a light to it. "135." Not sure what that meant, but everyone shown a light into my face at the same time. "Are you even from here?" asked a policeman who hadn't said anything earlier. "No, I'm studying at Bangkok University. I honestly came to play music officer. I'm not who you think I am." The boss looked stunned. "You mean your not even Thai?" After looking at m student ID and drivers license. The "good cop" said I was free to go. I set my urine bag against the curb, picked up my guitar, and made the walk to the restaurant where our studio is. It was great to see familiar faces again. The owners were sitting out front drinking together and playing games. "Yeah, the cops in this area are a shady bunch. You're not the first."

I've never had a problem with police officers. They are here to protect us, not intimidate us, right? In the last few days I've noticed I feel differently. I know there are both good and bad officers out there, but every time I see one I feel afraid. The thing is, I've never felt like that before. The only time I felt scared of cops was when the good guy was about to be caught by one in a movie. Now I feel like I have to watch my back everywhere I go. It's a feeling I think will wear off over a few weeks, but I just don't like the whole thing.

Something else I wasn't happy about was the Special Topics in Communication class I talked about in my last post. The professor? Same one that gave me a good grade if I would shut up and forget about ever failing the three question midterm. Her first class was last week, because she didn't show up the first week. This week was also canceled because of personal schedule conflicts. In last weeks class, I was singled out in a small speech she gave. Along the lines of: "If you have a problem you know. I will fix it for you, you don't need to talk with the office." This angers me a bit, not because she was talking about the 3 students who wanted to know why the midterm results were kept from us, but because this teacher promises a bad grade for anyone who asks questions. I thought good learners were supposed to ask questions. I want to graduate, so I'll go along with it, but I'm sure this won't be the last post about her.

To top off a great week. I have a small cold. I had a bit of a fever and stuffy nose the other day, but I'm feeling better now. Sleep, water, and paracetamol.

Tomorrow I have a job taking graduation pictures all day. Wish me luck.