parents couldn’t be bothered with restraining them, too preoccupied with passing judgement and buttering toasts.
Unmindful of the crowd, a besotted young Brit kisses his male companion full on the lips. A Gujarati lady, standing in queue behind them, is gobsmacked, and decides to forsake her omelette and flee the scene. The hostess approaches, escorting an elderly American woman, wielding a walking stick, to the table next to mine. Her good-looking companion is a young Thai male. The couple bill and coo. I smile and discreetly look away.
One night in Bangkok, so the song says, makes a hard man humble. But breakfast in Bangkok will teach you a thing or two about life and love.