a description, because I didn't dare take a photo

A neckless, girthy ex-football type sits astride a bike. He’s pedaling nonchalantly, no hands. He has a sleeveless shirt and a shaved head. He wears earrings in both ears and a giant dust mask across his mouth and nose. He’s Buddha vs. a biohazard, Mr. Clean doing some serious damage control.

Thanks to recent slash-and-burn efforts on the part of local farmers, Chiang Mai has been under a pallor of bluish smoke for the last two weeks. The whole city is hazy and indistinct, because of both the smog and my watery eyes. Most foreigners have taken to wearing face protection when they go out. I’ve asked some of my Thai friends why they don’t wear masks too, but they just say the smoke can’t kill them. I guess after a lifetime of sucking small-engine exhaust, you’re not really fazed by a little more air pollution.

This bike-riding Papa Bear that I saw, he moves slowly through the streets. He’s confused. This was supposed to be his perfect vacation- good weather, cheap prices, what you want when you want it. And then all of a sudden the environment turned on him. He’s still watching the locals with the look of someone who’s thrown a lot of his money into this city’s darkest corners. But he’s on the defensive. He’s hiding behind a dust mask. Things aren’t quite what they seem.