Wit Phoonsiri

English 105
A Stupid Thought
On Friday of June 16
th
, I told mom that I will return home at 3.30 pm after finishing my
printmaking class in TAISM, Oman. I just finished my graduation rehearsal at 12 pm and walked
to art class. I however found out that Mr. Montoya, my art teacher was gone about a week for his
daughters graduation. A stupid thought suddenly popped up, If he is not here, why should I do
my art work. I decided to immediately go home by bus at 12 pm, thinking that mom would be
home. When I got to the house, I knocked at the door, Pung pung. Mom did not open the door.
I knocked again and called Mom, are you there? No one responded back. I could feel the cold
breezes from the air condition inside. I began to wonder if she was home. Opening the cupboard
and shelter, I could not find any key. Panic, I formulated many silly solutions to break into the
house. One of them was, What if I use a screwdriver to unlock the door? I repetitively rotated
the screwdriver into the door but to no avail.
The air outside was hot and terrible. The yellow, bright sun is shining its intense ray to my
house. I flee to the laundry room where it was cooler. . I kept mumbling, What am I going to
do? I thought that I will died from the scorching heat outside. I thought of calling my mom, but
then figure that the battery was depleted. My body was cover by sweats. I figured out the only
solution. Go to the security office. It has air condition and water. I sauntered to the security
building. However, it was 2 kilometers from my house.
I trudged desperately to the department. The beaming sun was shining its ablaze light onto
my head. I felt like there is a flaming reddish oven inside my body. My throat and mouth were
sore with dehydration. I kept thinking of getting to the security as soon as possible. I tramped on
the sidewalk, passing the building flats with the palm trees shining its green, spiny, oval leaves. I
saw colorful cars, buses and trucks outpacing my walking speed. Finally, I turned left, strolled
for a few miles and finally arrived at the security department, a white one-story building. A
warden welcomed me. He asked in his thick, guttural Arabic accent, Is there anything I can help
you? I told him that I just come back from my school and found out that no one is at home. I
told my houses location and ask if he can help me. The warden said that the guards did not
possess reserved keys for houses, regretting that he cannot help. Then he called his subordinates
to drive me to the villas shopping center where I could go killing time while waiting for my
mother.
I drank two cups of water, waiting for the junior officers. Drinking water was the nicest
feeling I had since coming back home. The cold, transparent water gently flows into my reddish
mouth. The water relieved the scorching pain from my dry lips. The two subordinate officers
arrived a few minutes later. They took me into their car and drove me to the villas shopping
area. Both of the officers are Omanis and spoke Arabic but they totally differ in their looks: one
had white skin with pointy, hooked nose and beard. Another one was of black complexion with
woolly hair, beardless face and shorter stature. They first took me to see the clear, sapphire but
rocky seawater before dropping me at the shopping center.
I did not bring my wallet so I sit on a couch outside of the caf. I tried to take a nap but the
sunlight, clinging sounds of car engines, and hot air wake me up. I saw Omanis of different
gender walking pass by. The males were wearing round hats and dishdashas (plain, white robe).
The females were donning black, smooth robes with their heads covered. I sat for an hour,
killing time. I went to sit in another table in front of a restaurant. Waiting for my mom, I learned
a hard lesson for disobeying my schedule. In addition, I blamed myself for not bringing wallet
and charging the phone battery. I thought of the AC and water fountain in my school. This
stupid decision would never happen if I do my art at school. I envied those who buy and eat in
the cool, windy air of the shops. I waited for a long time until three oclock. Has mom come
back home yet? I walked back but stop at the yard near the beach. I had to be sure my mother
has return. I sat on the green, thin grass under a tall, banded date palm with its green, unripe
fruits hanging over my head. I sat, killing time until 3.30 pm and walk back to find my mom
standing outside of the house. She said, Where have you been? I try to find you. I told her that
I had been at The Wave since 12 pm because I thought she was home. Mom said that she could
not open the door and that she is calling the housing service before telling me to get into the car.
She ordered Musab, the Omani chauffeur to drive us to the housing service. Along the way I told
her that it was me who broke the door with a screwdriver. Mom taught me that next time I have
to be more careful with my phone battery. She says, How am I going to find you if you did not
come back at 3.30 pm? I cannot call because you did not charge your phone. This event will
never happen if I follow my own schedule, I added. In the aftermath, the housing staff attempt
to break into the house. He failed and inquired two Indian workers if they can open the door. The
Indians, wearing blue, long sleeve costumes, covering their dark tanned skin, pound a grey,
round-faced hammer onto the doorknob, successfully opening the door. We thanked the staff and
the Indian workers, rewarding them with two rials (one rial is equivalent to two point six
dollars), oranges and cold water bottles. From now on I will become a more responsible and
disciplined person. I will never again be neglectful of my phone battery or ever again dismiss my
schedule. Finally, I just hope that this one crucial experience will be enough to change me
forever.