Patpong
Bangkok,
Thailand
Friday, November 1, 2002
After sending an email I went back to my room and got changed. I thought I would check out the bar on the ground floor of the guesthouse. I sat down and ordered a drink and looked over at the guy sitting next to me. He had one empty and one half full long neck in front of him and he was studying his glass intently. I recognised him as the guy who had sat next to Craig at the Muay Thai fight in Chiang Mai. I said hello and introduced myself.
His name was Philippe and he was from Montreal. He was on his way to Australia and had been travelling on his own. We were talking about various things and Phil said he wanted to go to Patpong but was scared that he would be dragged into some sleazy parlour as a single white guy. I suggested that we go together and he was quite pleased to have someone to go with. I told him to wait while I went upstairs and changed into something more suitable for going out.
I returned and Phil finished his beer and we caught a tuk tuk from the end of Khao San Road. Phil took charge of commissioning a tuk tuk driver and bargaining with him over the fare.
We were dropped off at the end of a small narrow street which was closed to traffic due to all the market stalls set up in the middle of the road. The buildings along the side of the street were loud, neon lit bars. The bars opened onto the street and from the outside you could see gogo girls in skimpy swimwear and underwear dancing sullenly on the stage. Out the front touts shouted "no cover charge, no cover charge". They held laminated A4 sheets which they thrust into your face. The sheets listed all the acts on show for the evening, and `free' beside it.
The footpath was narrow and crowded. There was only enough room to squeeze past in single file. Phil was racing down the street, shaking pleading hands off. I received the same amount of attention as Phil, they were indiscriminate in their effort to get patronage.
When we reached the end of the street, Phil turned around and his face was blushing furiously. He was embarrassed at the advances of the touts, or maybe it was just that he was embarrassed to be around me in a seedy, sleazy part of town. I was quite enjoying myself. It was amusing watching market stall holders selling tacky souvenirs to pedestrians on one side and touts screaming for the tourists to come and check out some T&A on the other.
Phil asked me what I wanted to do and I shrugged and said that we might as well check out a show, seeming how we had come all this way. He looked almost relieved that I hadn't put on a prudish, disgusted voice and insisted on going back to Khao San Road. We started back on the other side of the road but then crossed back to where we had already walked. We stopped in front of Supergirls, a bar with a motorcycle bolted above the door. Out the front was a Western guy wearing a red cape like those of the touts with his mates. They were obviously drunk and the guy in the cape was acting as a tout telling us that this was the best place on all of Patpong. The real touts were giggling behind their hands at him. Phil again negotiated that we would go in if he could wear the cape. After some toing and froing of words, Phil scored the cape and we went upstairs to the bar.
At the top of the stairs a burly bouncer let us pass into a dim lit room with a stage in the centre. We selected two seats on the left hand wall. Immediately a waitress appeared to take our drink orders. The lack of a cover charge was made up for by the exorbitant drink prices and waitresses would constantly pester you and force you into buying another round before even finishing the first.
I was rather surprised when a woman came up and sat next to me and started massaging, or rather pummelling, my arm. I turned and looked at Phil with a quizzical look but she continued. I thought it would be rude to ask her not to do it, even though it was making me uncomfortable and I naively thought that it was part of the club's idea to keep women distracted while the blokes checked out the show. It certainly succeeded in distracting me, but free it was not. The
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woman kept purring in my ear saying that I was beautiful and that I reminded her of her daughter.
One of the performers came around with a box collecting money for her little act (which I hadn't seen as I was distracted by the women groping my arm). She was completely naked except for a chain hung around her waist like a necklace and a large burn scar on her thigh. She was completely comfortable with her nudity, and not knowing what was the norm, I contributed 100B.
When my massaging woman went to grab my other arm across me after cracking my knuckles on my left hand, I told her that was enough. She then cuddled up into my side and said in her pussy cat voice, "You pay me" so I said "how much?" to which she shrugged in pretend shyness and looked briefly away. I then pulled out 50B from my purse and she looked all sad and hurt and purred in my ear "Why you give her (gesturing to the naked woman collecting money) more. She not nice. I nice to you. You beautiful." So I pulled out another 100B to shut her up and said thank you. She got up and sat down beside Phil. I leaned across him and put my arm on his leg and said "he's alright". She looked at me and I said "he'll get a massage from me tonight" and she nodded her head as if she knew exactly what that was going to be.
I was glad to have her away from me so I could concentrate on the show. A large martini glass filled with bath bubbles and a naked girl was lowered from the ceiling. While she splashed and writhed in the `bath' Thai men with naked girls surrounding them drank and laughed at the girls in their arms.
The next act came on and it was the scar woman using an egg as a prop. After her act, a drunken bogan Brit was encouraged onto the stage. He didn't need much encouragement and took his shirt and pants off and threw them to his female companion. He had been sitting right on the corner of the stage chatting up all the dancers. He was prancing around the stage when one of the girls came up from behind and pulled down his boxer shorts. The crowd tittered and he roared, then covered his dignity with his hands and got down from the stage. Back with his friends he was laughing over it.
Balloons started floating from the roof and they were directed into the crowd. They were long balloons and Phil and I each got one, I wasn't sure in the darkness but I think mine was yellow. The next girl came on stage With ua< <s and a tube. I wasn't sure what she was going to do urrt;i suddenly a balloon popped and then another. Looking around I saw people ducking and shielding their faces with their arms while holding out the balloons, so I did the same. I was amazed when my balloon popped. I marvelled and the girl's ability to control her anatomy in such a way that I never thought possible.
After that performance I sensed that Phil was a bit bored. He told me that he had seen it all before in Montreal so we decided to leave - although I could have stayed longer to see the famed sex on a flying motorcycle show.
Phil had heard from another traveller about discos where there were no Westerners and he wanted to go to one of them. We went to a tuk tuk rank and Phil asked the drivers about a club with no farang. They seemed to have no idea where to take us and eventually a driver just took us back to Khao San Road. Our driver then asked the other drivers there if they knew where to go and we changed tuk tuks, headed back past Banglamphu and across the river to a plush looking hotel. It was deserted except for a security guard who told our driver that it was closed. Our driver couldn't help us anymore so he took us back to Khao San Road.
Phil knew of a bar on Khao San Road that had been recommended to him. We found it tucked away off a lane. There was a DJ and it was fairly empty, but still dark and smoky. We got ourselves a drink and sat on a bench at the side.
An African guy came up to me and dragged me onto the dancefloor. I didn't want to go and I wanted Phil to save me but I ended up on the dancefloor with the African guy. I flapped about for a bit before crying off adn going back to sit with Phil and my drink. The African guy came back and was more forceful, grabbing my wrists. I refused to move. He went off for a dance and then came back and said right in my face "You're scared of me aren't you". I returned coldly "No I'm not. I just don't feel like dancing to this music and I don't like having people in my face." In truth I was threatened by him and his persistence. He then made a big deal about settling the peace and high fiving which became tiresome after the first minute.
The club was closing, the lights were coming on and they hadn't played any of Phil's requests so we left in search of another place. We walked to the end of Khao San Road where there was another pub which had also closed. People were streaming out into the street in all states of inebriation.
