Ripping My Pants at the Royal Palace

If you see photos of people visiting Thailand, where the beautiful Royal Palace is located, especially backpackers, you’ll notice an interesting theme in apparel. It won’t be uncommon at all to see travelers who have traded in American blue jeans for something called, ‘elephant pants.’

These are drawstring pants that are super light and can be purchased for as little as two American dollars. They scrunch up at the bottom and the elastic makes them snug around the ankle giving the wearer a Bohemian, carefree look. The design is nearly always the same — a bunch of white elephants and some linear patterns.

I wanted that look and I wanted those pants. So yes, I bought them.

Now, women of every size and shape are gorgeous. But, buyer beware when it comes to elephant pants. If you have any kind of curve from your torso down to your feet — these babies are going to not only disappoint, but quite potentially, ruin your life.

Some Backstory.

I flew to Bangkok with my husband [then boyfriend] and stayed for about a week at the end of which, we would be meeting up with twenty or so people for a Contiki tour of the country.

On our fourth or so night in the city, the tour began and we met our travel buddies. We spent an evening getting to know most of them during an introductory meeting, having a family dinner, and even hitting a bar on Khao San Road afterward. I believe there was a beer tower involved.

All of our new buddies were cool, I mean remarkably nice, but I didn’t feel like I knew them very well at that point. For all intents and purposes, we were still strangers and I for one was keen on playing it cool and making a good impression.

Next day at the Royal Palace

The next morning we all journeyed to the Royal Palace for sightseeing. A place of unfathomable significance to Thai culture and Buddhist religion.

Now, if you need to know anything about Thailand’s temples or ‘wats’ as they’re actually called, you should first and foremost know that they are very conservative places when it comes to apparel. At the Royal Palace in particular, the standards of decorum were in place and high.

I arrived at the Royal Palace in a modest, loose fitting t-shirt because it was July and super hot outside. Almost immediately, I was told to cover my shoulders at which point one of the women in my tour group offered me a spare sweater. PHEW — new friends for the win!

If I’m being honest, I felt a little awkward that day. We all were strangers to one another and did that weird kind of forced mingling and conversation thing. I have social anxiety and I get nervous easily, so the entire morning was filled with fun internal monologues like, I smiled at her, why didn’t she smile back? Is it because she hates me? Did I do something wrong? 

In the midst of sweating and feeling awks, someone, I don’t know who, suggested that we take a group shot on a platform near the middle of the complex. I wish I knew who it was so that I could kick them in the ass.

Here’s why.

I was fine with the idea of a photo at the time. The fact that I was even invited to be in it meant I was accepted on some level, right? This would be great. A keepsake photo showing that I was in a beautiful new country and on my way to making friends. Hooray.

I squatted down eagerly for the photo, like way too eagerly.

And then everything went wrong.

Rip.

I felt a cool breeze flutter over my butt. I mean, really, this breeze was intimate with my ass, like, right on it. And I just knew. I knew right away. I felt my blood run cold in the middle of a hundred degree day.

I’d split my pants right on the butt part. And my underwear wasn’t covering a damn thing.

So, in the middle of the most sacred spot in all of Bangkok, where even showing a shoulder was immodest — there I stood with my butt out for all to see.

The worst part was I couldn’t even use the sweater to hide my butt because then I’d be showing my shoulders and get yelled at which would have drawn attention to me.

In a panic, I desperately held my hands against my toosh — like some kind of weird, shy, rendition of the Coppertone baby and began inquiring about where I might find a clothing store.

I tried to play it cool, but I’m pretty sure I came off as manic. Tears welling in my eyes as I did a creepy, rigid, Jack Nicholson-esque smile.

Someone alerted me that I might try the ‘place across the street.’

It gets better

In desperation, I tried to hold the two ends of my pants together to cover my shame. I don’t think I’ve ever run faster in my life. Finally, at the exit from the Royal Palace, I wrapped the sweater around my waist and cried as we waited for the crosswalk to be accessible. Thankfully, my boyfriend was there to help calm me down some.

We crossed the street and walked into the one clothing store. I kid you not. The only thing that this place sold…was more elephant pants.

There was no changing room, and so I had to put a new pair of pants over my old ones. How to get rid of the old pants that looked like a bulky diaper under the new ones?

WELL. I decided to rip the old ones with my bare hands so that I could pull them up through the waist of my new pants without having to be exposed.

I don’t think I’ve ever come so close to fainting from humiliation meeting physical exertion. I’m extremely grateful that no one else was in the store, because I definitely looked like I was having a psychiatric episode as I tore my pants to shreds.

On a whim, on a damn whim, I bought a second pair of pants. And I’m so glad that I did.

We paid, left the store, and ran across the street and back to the Royal Palace. Where…shortly after…I can’t make this up…the new pair of pants ripped.

Luckily, I had the second pair to cover me up until we got back to the hotel.

So, the moral of my story is, if you ever think meeting a new group of people will be awkward…take solace in the fact that it will never be as awkward as my first morning of Contiki.