Not All Kilos Are Created Equal

We arrived in Ho Chi Minh (the former Saigon) late Monday afternoon. The plane ride was uneventful except for two things.

First, the cost of the ticket was cheap but the baggage fees were nothing short of extortion. Vietnam Airlines allows 20kg in baggage per person.

Period.

You could check 10 bags weighing two kilos each and that would be fine but if you go over so much as a gram, the baggage police come out and demand your arm, the keys to your SUV, your first born and GOBS of American dollars.

To put this into perspective, 20 kilos equates to about 44lbs. My suitcase was originally packed for the 17 days of this trip and I've shopped a bit. My bag clocked in at 24 kilos, which would be pretty close to American guidelines. My client, on the other hand, has already had to acquire an extra bag for her purchases, which is completely understandable because it is her first time in Asia and she has lots of disposable income. Between her two bags, she weighed in at a whopping 61 kilos. Bottom line was that we were about 25 kilos over the weight limit. In the US, this would have cost us roughly $40 each. Vietnam Airlines expected $260.

I had myself a little hissy fit right there at the counter, demanding to speak with the supervisor, who patiently explained that this was the policy and that basically, I could just go pound sand. I told him that his fees were unreasonable. He smiled, agreed and then asked if I would be paying with cash or credit card. Clearly, I was not the first loud and obnoxious American to cause a fuss at the "Excess Baggage" counter.

So, out came the American Express and everyone exhaled.

While waiting to board our plane, we decided to have a bite to eat which turned out to be all kinds of stupid. I had a little curried something that caused a mini war between my stomach and my bowel. I have never wanted a Tums so badly in all my life.

On the plane, my client and I were lucky enough to have a row of seats to ourselves.

And the stinky foot of the person in the seat behind us.


















I mean, c'mon. It wasn't just a toe up there on the armrest. It was half of a very stinky foot. We swatted at it with a newspaper. We slugged it with our purses, to no avail. Smelly foot remained. We turned around and gave the death stare but still, there was no retreat. "Pinch it," I suggested. My client declined. We gave up. Finally, after take off, the flight attendant came by and since neither of us knew how to say, "Oh my God, this person hasn't washed their feet in years and we're about to vomit from the fumes," in Vietnamese, we pinched our noses, screwed up our faces and pointed at the offending appendage. That did the trick. The sock disappeared.

The rest of the flight was largely uneventful except for the karaoke singing from the person with the stinky foot and my visit to the toilet, which has caused me to wake up in the middle of the night screaming for my mother. Oh the horror.

I can't say that I recommend Vietnam Airlines.

But Vietnam, the country, is spectacular. More on that tomorrow.