Foodcart mafia

The market where I live has suddenly become a bigger and more exciting place, after I bumped into someone the other day who I had spent two years trying to avoid.

Pee Book is a small but resolute looking woman with long hair who runs a foodcart on the busy side of the market.

Until about two years ago, boyfriend Maiyuu and I used to go there to buy lunch most days.

We would order, and wait...and wait. The cart was popular, and even with three staff could not keep up with demand. However, Pee Book was also inclined to forget orders. I could make several return visits to pick up my food, only to be told she hadn't made it yet.

Worse than being forgetful or tardy, Pee Book was also sparing with the ingredients. She could afford to be more generous, I thought. Living in a fresh food market, residents can buy ingredients and make the meals just as easily at home.

So, one day I just stopped going. We took our business to another shop closer to our side of the market, which is divided by a railway line.

To avoid questions about where I had taken my custom, I also stopped going to Pee Book's side of the market.

Once I went there daily, to use the ATM machine, browse the video shop, visit the 7-11, or even just go for a walk. After I quit Pee Book's cart for a rival food-seller, I did not dare.

Some of my friends from the condo, however, continued patronising Pee Book, who of course wanted to know where Maiyuu and the farang with the large appetite had gone.

'The farang is on holiday overseas,' an inventive one said. Her name is Mai.

Several months passed, and Pee Book asked again. Mai remembered the story she had made up last time, and felt obliged to add to it.

'Er...he is still overseas,' she said.

'That's a long holiday,' said Pee Book.

Pee Book was to ask several times again over the following months. 'It's getting embarrassing,' says Mai.

More than two years were to pass, in fact, before the farang returned from his 'holiday' - and if he had a choice he would have stayed away even longer.

The other day I was forced to make a rare foray onto Pee Book's side, which as a disloyal customer scared of confrontation I had tried so hard to avoid.

After finishing my business, I was walking speedily back to the safe side of the tracks, when who should I encounter on the footpath but the tiny and determined looking figure of Pee Book.

She walked straight up to me. 'Where have you been?' she asked sweetly.

'These days I go to a shop closer to the condo,' I said. 'It's easier.'

'Ah.' A small pause, while perhaps she marvelled at how these farang could be so blunt.

'Good luck,' she said finally, and walked off.

I can understand why Pee Book might be upset. As long-term customers we were like family. We knew about each other's lives.

Pee Book or her staff would ask me jokingly if I had found a new boyfriend, or if I was still slogging away with poor Maiyuu. I would ask her for help in finding a new guy.

All those happy times are now gone, because I was simply too choosy. If I was a truly loyal customer, I would never have deserted Pee Book's food cart.

I might feel her hurt, but I am pleased to have the grand sweep of the market at my disposal again.

Being part of a busy market at lunchtime is exciting. While waiting at Pee Book's foodcart, I could take my time watching people as they went about their daily business. Maiyuu and I could play 'spot the gay' among the local technical college students.

On my side of the tracks, most folk are middle-aged or still at school. Pee Book's side, by contrast, is where the fresh-faced tertiary students wait for buses and song taew.

Once, as a long-term resident, I walked past the bus stop and attracted hardly a second glance. Now when I wander past, a new generation of young ones stares at me as if I am a new face in town.

Clearly, if I am to drink in the heady flavours of market life again I need to find a new vantage point from which to watch.

However, the next one will need quicker service. One confrontation with the foodcart mafia in two years is enough.