Life in Pattaya Thailand offers you almost everything
A day. 24 hours, no more, no less. They arrive and depart according to physical laws we are powerless to change. One day. Put 30 of them together and a month has been completed. 365 of them strung together is yet another year, another birthday, and one more digit added to our ever increasing age.
Let me not wax too philosophical here. I offer you the events of one day, one ordinary day, one 24 hours in Pattaya. Please allow me to arbitrarily begin this day at 0735 of the morning.
Morning Ballet
There was no rain this morning, and I was more than happy to be able to get on my bicycle to get some much needed exercise. Already hot, already humid, it just felt like Pattaya. There was the usual zig zags around and through the ever beeping baht buses, the normal alertness when I heard a tour bus bearing down on me (alertness, hell. Chage that to fear.) And best of all, the ever present ladies out calling to me, waving me to stop and "chat". In short, just an ordinary morning of an ordinary day.
I was on Pattaya Thai headed to the intersection of that route and Second Road. Luck was with me -- I had the light and thus would not have to stop for traffic. I was almost to the intersection when I heard the now too familiar bang and scrape of a motorbike hitting the pavement. I was not really sure where this came from since traffic on Second Road was stopped, and there was nothing in front or back of me.
In a short second the creator of the noise became evident. A bike shot out of the stopped traffic and into Pattaya Thai. It was on its right side, spinning slowly, but traveling at a great rate of speed. It slid across the road, the rear wheel hit the curb, the bike spun against this new pivot and shot about 10 feet further north on Second Road. This happened faster than you can read this.
And then the show! A half second, could not have been more, the bike was followed by its dethroned rider. HE WAS STILL VERTICAL!! I have not worked out in my mind how one has a bike go down with the velocity of this one, and yet the rider remained vertical. Notice I did not state that he was standing -- he was anything but that. He was the Thai reincarnation of Michel Barishnikov as he sailed into view. He entered Pattaya Thai with a leap that began somewhere back, out of sight, in the waiting traffic. Landing on his right foot, he flew once more to the mid-point of the street. Here his left foot touched the pavement and he made a leap that would have made any NBA player proud -- except he added a most graceful, and unbelievable, full 360 degree turn while elevated. Poetry in motion. And then he was across the street, landing on yet his right foot again. One more modest leap and he was beside the now resting motorbike. Only at the conclusion of this flight did his two feet finally touch the pavement together.
Without having given it conscious thought, I had come to a complete stop and was enjoying this theatrical display even more than when I got dragged to an actual Barishnikov performance in New York. Yet another attempt by my first wife to instill some "culture" into me.
Once his final jump was over, without pause he bent down and grabbed the fallen bike. I could hear the engine revving up as he righted his transportation. A quick turning shove to get the front headed in the right direction, north on Second Road, and he jumped yet once more, this time onto the bike. The rear tire gave a brief squeal as he accelerated down the avenue. Last seen going at close to full throttle, his helmet securely stowed within the confines of the motorbike.
My ride continued until its sweaty end. The shower felt as good as it always has. Ordinary, just an ordinary morning.
Mid-day matinee
My condo overlooks the newly finished Summer Spring hotel and it roof top pool. It is a common sight to see vacationers with their find of the night enjoying themselves in the pool. Once in a while, even see a farang babe, but once that happens, I usually go turn on CNN.
On this day, I noticed a couple who had been there the prior three days. Normal Pattaya pairing -- he in his sixties, at least, and she in her early to mid twenties, no more. I would guess a go-go dancer from some domain, but I really had nothing to base this on other than just a feeling. They had gotten more and more amorous in the pool with each new day. I would have sworn they were "doing the deed" on my previous watches, but could only say with a 99% certainty.
Today things went to new levels. He would brace himself against a side of the pool, she would spread her legs and sit upon his "lap". Thanks to some excellent Nikon binoculars, I was able to take my 99% certainty to the 100% level in short order.
They would gently rock to and fro, and then she would ease back, adjust her bikini (blue with yellow polka dots), and then be sure to pull down the bottom of his swim trunks. (Thank Buddha, no Speedo!) They would ease across to yet another spot and repeat the water sports. All this time, other people would enter and exit the pool, but somehow this couple managed to carve out a bit of space that only one soul had the chutzpa to invade, and he quickly got the message to SCRAM!
Once I stated breathing again, my brain kicked in, and I pulled out the Nikon camera, attached the telephoto lens, and started snapping away. They continued their quest for deeply hidden pleasures without even glancing up.
Over an hour, maybe several, passed before I saw him pull her tightly into his chest, hold her there for a few moments, and then ease back into a most relaxed position. She eased herself back away from him, made the earlier described adjustments, and then hastened out of the pool and into the ladies room. Probably drank too much beer and had to relieve herself...........
While she was out of the picture, both literally and figuratively, I waved at the man as he was stretched out in the pool. Finally, he noticed me and waved back. And thus began the second act of this mid-day delight.
I had no way to know where he was from, so just took a chance that he was American. I first gave two huge "thumbs up" signals to him. Then I grabbed the camera and pointed it at him, making as if I was taking more pictures. Finally, I stood and held my hands over my head in the "Touchdown!" signal. Grabbing my binoculars, I could see he was laughing. Message sent, message received.
Miss Polka Dot shortly returned. She now laid back against his chest. Both of them were looking up at me. I could see him pointing at me. I held the camera up and waved so she could know exactly where I was. A quick bit of explanation was offered to her, and she started laughing. Caught in both the act and the viewfinder.
As she laid back and relaxed, I took my hands, placed them against my chest, and made a huge opening or stretching motion. He immediately caught on, and pulled both sides of her top aside. She initially jumped, but then when he pointed out I wanted to get pictures, she opened the top herself, all while laughing.
I stopped breathing again. He took the bikini bottom and lowered it so that her, uh, dark hair was visible. She did not object, but just laid back laughing further. He then rotated her over such that she was facing him. And down came the bottom of the polka dots yet again. A most delightful moon shot if ever there was one. This went on for ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours -- I have no idea. My brain had shorted out. Only thing moving was my finger on the shutter button.
And finally things came to an end. They needed some refreshment after their labors, so they left the pool areas, but not without first a wave good-bye to me.
The clock had marched onward as this ordinary day progressed. The sun was lowering itself into the bay, and night would soon be upon us.
Evening Jollies
Unknown to me, Miss Moon was about to become a part of this day. She and I had spent two or three days together earlier in the week, then she was out for whatever she desired, leaving me equally free. I decided to go to the Beer Garden, not having been there for at least three weeks. Just had a feeling that I was going to find a new evening delight.
Upon arriving, found it necessary to hit the toilet before ordering a drink. Seems to become ever so more common as the days roll by. Once I had lost some fluids, I came back to the Garden central, only to find most of the waitress force waiting on me, all laughing and yelling at me, and in the center of this crowd, Miss Moon.
OK, lots of laughs, chatter, flirting, teasing, just a good time. Moon had her hands checking my upper legs for damages that I might have somehow incurred.
Now I must step aside from the day under review for just a short bit of explanation. Bear with me, please.
As Moon learned more and more about the joy of sex (What a great title for a book), she became equally more conversant with me about different things she would like to do or watch done. I earlier had written about her reaction to the dildo show in Misty's. Since that time she had been telling me that she wanted to watch me have sex with another lady. Took a bit, but I finally was convinced that she was serious.
And before the clock expires, let me get back to our day's report.
After a couple of drinks, and not seeing anything that would be better than Moon, I paid the check and we left. As we were walking, I decided that tonight was the night - we would find the "other" lady and Moon would have her fantasy fulfilled.
I took her to the Blue Lagoon go-go. Definitely bottom feeding in terms of such establishments, but I wanted to see it for myself, and who knew, maybe there would be Miss Other within.
Uncrowded, it was only about 2000 on the clock, so we got seats exactly beside the "stage". The two stars were putting on a languid lesbian show, all the while carrying on a conversation with one of the dancers sitting against the stage.
Moon was absolutely bouncing with excitement and happiness. Think four month old cocker spaniel puppy. The stars got into her keenness and a regular conversation in Thai took place. I merely sat back and watched.
At some point the "show" progressed to the dildo insertion. At this point Moon was out of her seat, standing beside the stage and eagerly talking to the "insertee" rather than the inserter. Only later did she tell me that they were discussing how care had to be taken to avoid going in too far (JIP!), and that it did not feel like the real thing. The real thing was "good and fun" while the dildo was just part of the job.
There was almost an accident as we left. The dildo was still inserted. I took out a 100 baht note and handed it to the mounter. It was for the two of them to split. Each lady screamed with joy, and the mounter, just for that split second, forgot she could not move her hips to any great extent. That forgetfulness brought forth another scream from her partner, this one not of pleasure.
I just kept walking.
Outside, back on the beach, I had to find "Miss Other". I had not mentioned this to Moon, but tonight it would be. And then the Pattaya moment happened.
We had not walked 50 feet when I turned and stopped in my tracks. At the same time, a lady sitting on one of those concrete benches stopped in mid-conversation. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then she ran up to me for a big hug.
Only in Pattaya. Na, a lady from BKK. I had not seen her in just over a year. She speaks three languages, has a good job in BKK, owns her own house, and sometimes comes down here for some extra spending money.
Quick introductions were made. "Na, Moon wants to see me with another lady. She wants to watch. You want to come with us, and we do for 500 baht"
Na squealed in pleasure, "We go!" I now had two bouncing babes on my hands. Lucky farang.
At the condo, I insisted that Moon had to strip down rather than just sit on the sofa as a distant spectator. Even got her to come over to the bed for a close up view. Na and I enjoyed each other.
Before long, I had a handful of Moon, Na had a mouthful or me, and events moved rather well.
I will not bore the reader with an overly detailed description of Moon's now real fantasy. Suffice it to say that she became a full performer, and found that she actually loved it. Lucky farang, indeed.
As things wound down, Na invited the two of us to come to her home in BKK and spend a few days with her. The invitation was sincere, and just might be something I will decide to do.
Before leaving, Na asked me about some information that I could get for here. I told her I would get it and call her. It took little time, and I had Moon make the call. Thai to Thai.
After she got off the phone, she looked at me and smiled.
"Na tell me she want me to come her home even if you not go. She also tell me I have very large "boobs" (taught her the word). Harley, she say my pussy is beautiful."
Oh, Buddha, just what have I managed to get started here? The mind leaps at the possibilities.
And the night progressed. I looked at my watch - 0130! There are those who will read this and swear I have been making it all up. Top up at 0130?? Ain't gonna happen, no way.
But on this ordinary day, it did.
It was some time before Moon and I were tired enough to sleep, to let the remainder of this day slip away from us.
A ballet, a full performance sex show, an unexpected threesome just walking down the beach. Just an ordinary day in Pattaya. 24 hours, nothing more, nothing less.
Damn! I love this place.
Let me not wax too philosophical here. I offer you the events of one day, one ordinary day, one 24 hours in Pattaya. Please allow me to arbitrarily begin this day at 0735 of the morning.
Morning Ballet
There was no rain this morning, and I was more than happy to be able to get on my bicycle to get some much needed exercise. Already hot, already humid, it just felt like Pattaya. There was the usual zig zags around and through the ever beeping baht buses, the normal alertness when I heard a tour bus bearing down on me (alertness, hell. Chage that to fear.) And best of all, the ever present ladies out calling to me, waving me to stop and "chat". In short, just an ordinary morning of an ordinary day.
I was on Pattaya Thai headed to the intersection of that route and Second Road. Luck was with me -- I had the light and thus would not have to stop for traffic. I was almost to the intersection when I heard the now too familiar bang and scrape of a motorbike hitting the pavement. I was not really sure where this came from since traffic on Second Road was stopped, and there was nothing in front or back of me.
In a short second the creator of the noise became evident. A bike shot out of the stopped traffic and into Pattaya Thai. It was on its right side, spinning slowly, but traveling at a great rate of speed. It slid across the road, the rear wheel hit the curb, the bike spun against this new pivot and shot about 10 feet further north on Second Road. This happened faster than you can read this.
And then the show! A half second, could not have been more, the bike was followed by its dethroned rider. HE WAS STILL VERTICAL!! I have not worked out in my mind how one has a bike go down with the velocity of this one, and yet the rider remained vertical. Notice I did not state that he was standing -- he was anything but that. He was the Thai reincarnation of Michel Barishnikov as he sailed into view. He entered Pattaya Thai with a leap that began somewhere back, out of sight, in the waiting traffic. Landing on his right foot, he flew once more to the mid-point of the street. Here his left foot touched the pavement and he made a leap that would have made any NBA player proud -- except he added a most graceful, and unbelievable, full 360 degree turn while elevated. Poetry in motion. And then he was across the street, landing on yet his right foot again. One more modest leap and he was beside the now resting motorbike. Only at the conclusion of this flight did his two feet finally touch the pavement together.
Without having given it conscious thought, I had come to a complete stop and was enjoying this theatrical display even more than when I got dragged to an actual Barishnikov performance in New York. Yet another attempt by my first wife to instill some "culture" into me.
Once his final jump was over, without pause he bent down and grabbed the fallen bike. I could hear the engine revving up as he righted his transportation. A quick turning shove to get the front headed in the right direction, north on Second Road, and he jumped yet once more, this time onto the bike. The rear tire gave a brief squeal as he accelerated down the avenue. Last seen going at close to full throttle, his helmet securely stowed within the confines of the motorbike.
My ride continued until its sweaty end. The shower felt as good as it always has. Ordinary, just an ordinary morning.
Mid-day matinee
My condo overlooks the newly finished Summer Spring hotel and it roof top pool. It is a common sight to see vacationers with their find of the night enjoying themselves in the pool. Once in a while, even see a farang babe, but once that happens, I usually go turn on CNN.
On this day, I noticed a couple who had been there the prior three days. Normal Pattaya pairing -- he in his sixties, at least, and she in her early to mid twenties, no more. I would guess a go-go dancer from some domain, but I really had nothing to base this on other than just a feeling. They had gotten more and more amorous in the pool with each new day. I would have sworn they were "doing the deed" on my previous watches, but could only say with a 99% certainty.
Today things went to new levels. He would brace himself against a side of the pool, she would spread her legs and sit upon his "lap". Thanks to some excellent Nikon binoculars, I was able to take my 99% certainty to the 100% level in short order.
They would gently rock to and fro, and then she would ease back, adjust her bikini (blue with yellow polka dots), and then be sure to pull down the bottom of his swim trunks. (Thank Buddha, no Speedo!) They would ease across to yet another spot and repeat the water sports. All this time, other people would enter and exit the pool, but somehow this couple managed to carve out a bit of space that only one soul had the chutzpa to invade, and he quickly got the message to SCRAM!
Once I stated breathing again, my brain kicked in, and I pulled out the Nikon camera, attached the telephoto lens, and started snapping away. They continued their quest for deeply hidden pleasures without even glancing up.
Over an hour, maybe several, passed before I saw him pull her tightly into his chest, hold her there for a few moments, and then ease back into a most relaxed position. She eased herself back away from him, made the earlier described adjustments, and then hastened out of the pool and into the ladies room. Probably drank too much beer and had to relieve herself...........
While she was out of the picture, both literally and figuratively, I waved at the man as he was stretched out in the pool. Finally, he noticed me and waved back. And thus began the second act of this mid-day delight.
I had no way to know where he was from, so just took a chance that he was American. I first gave two huge "thumbs up" signals to him. Then I grabbed the camera and pointed it at him, making as if I was taking more pictures. Finally, I stood and held my hands over my head in the "Touchdown!" signal. Grabbing my binoculars, I could see he was laughing. Message sent, message received.
Miss Polka Dot shortly returned. She now laid back against his chest. Both of them were looking up at me. I could see him pointing at me. I held the camera up and waved so she could know exactly where I was. A quick bit of explanation was offered to her, and she started laughing. Caught in both the act and the viewfinder.
As she laid back and relaxed, I took my hands, placed them against my chest, and made a huge opening or stretching motion. He immediately caught on, and pulled both sides of her top aside. She initially jumped, but then when he pointed out I wanted to get pictures, she opened the top herself, all while laughing.
I stopped breathing again. He took the bikini bottom and lowered it so that her, uh, dark hair was visible. She did not object, but just laid back laughing further. He then rotated her over such that she was facing him. And down came the bottom of the polka dots yet again. A most delightful moon shot if ever there was one. This went on for ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours -- I have no idea. My brain had shorted out. Only thing moving was my finger on the shutter button.
And finally things came to an end. They needed some refreshment after their labors, so they left the pool areas, but not without first a wave good-bye to me.
The clock had marched onward as this ordinary day progressed. The sun was lowering itself into the bay, and night would soon be upon us.
Evening Jollies
Unknown to me, Miss Moon was about to become a part of this day. She and I had spent two or three days together earlier in the week, then she was out for whatever she desired, leaving me equally free. I decided to go to the Beer Garden, not having been there for at least three weeks. Just had a feeling that I was going to find a new evening delight.
Upon arriving, found it necessary to hit the toilet before ordering a drink. Seems to become ever so more common as the days roll by. Once I had lost some fluids, I came back to the Garden central, only to find most of the waitress force waiting on me, all laughing and yelling at me, and in the center of this crowd, Miss Moon.
OK, lots of laughs, chatter, flirting, teasing, just a good time. Moon had her hands checking my upper legs for damages that I might have somehow incurred.
Now I must step aside from the day under review for just a short bit of explanation. Bear with me, please.
As Moon learned more and more about the joy of sex (What a great title for a book), she became equally more conversant with me about different things she would like to do or watch done. I earlier had written about her reaction to the dildo show in Misty's. Since that time she had been telling me that she wanted to watch me have sex with another lady. Took a bit, but I finally was convinced that she was serious.
And before the clock expires, let me get back to our day's report.
After a couple of drinks, and not seeing anything that would be better than Moon, I paid the check and we left. As we were walking, I decided that tonight was the night - we would find the "other" lady and Moon would have her fantasy fulfilled.
I took her to the Blue Lagoon go-go. Definitely bottom feeding in terms of such establishments, but I wanted to see it for myself, and who knew, maybe there would be Miss Other within.
Uncrowded, it was only about 2000 on the clock, so we got seats exactly beside the "stage". The two stars were putting on a languid lesbian show, all the while carrying on a conversation with one of the dancers sitting against the stage.
Moon was absolutely bouncing with excitement and happiness. Think four month old cocker spaniel puppy. The stars got into her keenness and a regular conversation in Thai took place. I merely sat back and watched.
At some point the "show" progressed to the dildo insertion. At this point Moon was out of her seat, standing beside the stage and eagerly talking to the "insertee" rather than the inserter. Only later did she tell me that they were discussing how care had to be taken to avoid going in too far (JIP!), and that it did not feel like the real thing. The real thing was "good and fun" while the dildo was just part of the job.
There was almost an accident as we left. The dildo was still inserted. I took out a 100 baht note and handed it to the mounter. It was for the two of them to split. Each lady screamed with joy, and the mounter, just for that split second, forgot she could not move her hips to any great extent. That forgetfulness brought forth another scream from her partner, this one not of pleasure.
I just kept walking.
Outside, back on the beach, I had to find "Miss Other". I had not mentioned this to Moon, but tonight it would be. And then the Pattaya moment happened.
We had not walked 50 feet when I turned and stopped in my tracks. At the same time, a lady sitting on one of those concrete benches stopped in mid-conversation. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then she ran up to me for a big hug.
Only in Pattaya. Na, a lady from BKK. I had not seen her in just over a year. She speaks three languages, has a good job in BKK, owns her own house, and sometimes comes down here for some extra spending money.
Quick introductions were made. "Na, Moon wants to see me with another lady. She wants to watch. You want to come with us, and we do for 500 baht"
Na squealed in pleasure, "We go!" I now had two bouncing babes on my hands. Lucky farang.
At the condo, I insisted that Moon had to strip down rather than just sit on the sofa as a distant spectator. Even got her to come over to the bed for a close up view. Na and I enjoyed each other.
Before long, I had a handful of Moon, Na had a mouthful or me, and events moved rather well.
I will not bore the reader with an overly detailed description of Moon's now real fantasy. Suffice it to say that she became a full performer, and found that she actually loved it. Lucky farang, indeed.
As things wound down, Na invited the two of us to come to her home in BKK and spend a few days with her. The invitation was sincere, and just might be something I will decide to do.
Before leaving, Na asked me about some information that I could get for here. I told her I would get it and call her. It took little time, and I had Moon make the call. Thai to Thai.
After she got off the phone, she looked at me and smiled.
"Na tell me she want me to come her home even if you not go. She also tell me I have very large "boobs" (taught her the word). Harley, she say my pussy is beautiful."
Oh, Buddha, just what have I managed to get started here? The mind leaps at the possibilities.
And the night progressed. I looked at my watch - 0130! There are those who will read this and swear I have been making it all up. Top up at 0130?? Ain't gonna happen, no way.
But on this ordinary day, it did.
It was some time before Moon and I were tired enough to sleep, to let the remainder of this day slip away from us.
A ballet, a full performance sex show, an unexpected threesome just walking down the beach. Just an ordinary day in Pattaya. 24 hours, nothing more, nothing less.
Damn! I love this place.
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Pattaya Bar Girl Motto
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Depending on the school system, sometime in our teen years we all learned that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points. That bit of knowledge still remains true except in two places: 1) deep into Einstein's theory of relativity where light gets bent by gravity, worm holes allow a curved entry to be shorter than the aforementioned straight line, and time itself becomes altered. But let us not venture there. Even thinking about such things approaches being work -- a human endeavor I most assiduously avoid at this stage of my life., and 2) Pattaya.
In Pattaya there is one inviolate straight line -- have money, get honey -- but the rest of Pattaya's universe operates in ways unknown to the rest of the world, and certainly outside the massively complicated realm of Einstein's thinking.
Witness now the less than straight line path of sugar for my coffee.
Two days ago I ran out of sugar. Normally, I have "one sugar, please" with my morning wake up -- and then get on the bicycle.
Two days ago, Moon came over for a visit. She bemoaned the absence of sugar, and we agreed that we had to get a resupply from the Family Mart just down from the condo.
The day passed in a, well, in typical Pattaya fashion. Moon, a nap, Moon, another nap, Moon, lunch, Moon, ahhh, you get the idea.
In late afternoon it was off to the Family Mart for supplies. Beer (San Miguel dark! How do you guys drink that light stuff?? Thank goodness for personal choice.) Beer, Spy (Has any drink colored BLUE ever tasted good!), potato chips, milk, etc.
No sugar. I have often described the incredible drop off in short term memory that has accompanied my arrival in Paradise. Another bit of the strange universe of Pattaya or just my getting older? Anyway, entering Family Mart and shopping with Moon constantly walking close behind me and rubbing the back of my arms with her wonderful, uh, boobs, meant that all memory cells just shorted out -- became inoperative and unresponsive. In truth, I did well to remember where the door was. Sugar be damned.
And back to the condo. "Harley, you no get sugar."
"Tomorrow."
The 'morrow did come. Coffee was served to me -- black. Be a man, drink it down. Get on the bike.
As we both drank the strong brew, Moon's phone rang.
"Hello. You okay? I good. No. Cannot. I have man. No. Have man now. Cannot." And she closed her phone.
"Moon, who call you?"
"Jomtien man."
Just a bit of explanation here. Jomtien man, he was staying in a Jomtien condo, so let's call him Mr. Jomtien, had been with Moon about a week before. Since that time, he had called her most eagerly trying to reschedule things for a second appointment. She seemed to have made a more than positive impression on him.
"Moon, why you tell him no? I go ride bike. Call him back and tell him you can go short time with him NOW, then come back to condo."
I enjoyed watching her mind absorb this bit of information. She was eager to see him since he paid 1500 baht for short time, and he was one of those men wherein a short time was, well, quick.
"I can do?"
"Yes, call now. I go ride bike. You get money, come back when you finish."
She rapidly grabbed the phone and made the call. I, of course, could only hear her side of the conversation, but it was very evident that Mr. Jomtien was delighted to find that a short time with Moon was available to him. The total time on the phone was less than a minute. She got off with a smile on her face, and rose to put on her clothes.
Her phone rang yet again. Mr. Jomtien. Again one sided listening on my part. She got off and broke into an open laugh. "Jomtien so excited to see me, he take motorbike to my room, then take me to his condo. Not want to wait for me to take taxi." (This guy is quick.)
She dressed and started for the door. Memory finally kicked back into life. Reaching for my wallet and getting a 100 baht note, "Moon, here. On way back, you please stop at Family Mart and get sugar for us."
"Ooooh, good, good."
And we left. Me for my bike ride, Moon for her own ride.
I got back first. The ride was incredibly hot, and just as incredibly humid. I did not really enjoy it. Best part was not getting hit with any water thrown at me. Just too early for the Songkran revelers it would appear.
I was sitting at the desk, cooling down, and the door bell rang. Opening the door, I found Moon literally bouncing about and holding out the newly purchased bag of sugar. "I get! I get!"
To mercifully bring this epistle to a close, Dear Reader, I sit now at the computer -- a freshly made cup of coffee with "One sugar, please" at my wrist, and tell you of this bit of Pattaya life.
Need sugar? Go to Family Mart and get. Not in Pattaya. Those kind of straight lines do not work here. In the universe of Pattaya, Need sugar? Have farang desperate for short time. Take bike ride. Lady go short time. Farang pick her up in haste. They have SHORT time. She get sugar. Come back to condo. And the space time continuum is complete.
This tale is over. And in another bit of the strange world of Pattaya's universe, as I finish my poorly told story, I feel Moon rubbing her ever so wonderful chestly protuberances against the back of my neck. It would appear that there is work to be done.
Ahhh, it is not really work, now is it?
Pattaya is strange, wonderful, different. And damn! I do love this place.
In Pattaya there is one inviolate straight line -- have money, get honey -- but the rest of Pattaya's universe operates in ways unknown to the rest of the world, and certainly outside the massively complicated realm of Einstein's thinking.
Witness now the less than straight line path of sugar for my coffee.
Two days ago I ran out of sugar. Normally, I have "one sugar, please" with my morning wake up -- and then get on the bicycle.
Two days ago, Moon came over for a visit. She bemoaned the absence of sugar, and we agreed that we had to get a resupply from the Family Mart just down from the condo.
The day passed in a, well, in typical Pattaya fashion. Moon, a nap, Moon, another nap, Moon, lunch, Moon, ahhh, you get the idea.
In late afternoon it was off to the Family Mart for supplies. Beer (San Miguel dark! How do you guys drink that light stuff?? Thank goodness for personal choice.) Beer, Spy (Has any drink colored BLUE ever tasted good!), potato chips, milk, etc.
No sugar. I have often described the incredible drop off in short term memory that has accompanied my arrival in Paradise. Another bit of the strange universe of Pattaya or just my getting older? Anyway, entering Family Mart and shopping with Moon constantly walking close behind me and rubbing the back of my arms with her wonderful, uh, boobs, meant that all memory cells just shorted out -- became inoperative and unresponsive. In truth, I did well to remember where the door was. Sugar be damned.
And back to the condo. "Harley, you no get sugar."
"Tomorrow."
The 'morrow did come. Coffee was served to me -- black. Be a man, drink it down. Get on the bike.
As we both drank the strong brew, Moon's phone rang.
"Hello. You okay? I good. No. Cannot. I have man. No. Have man now. Cannot." And she closed her phone.
"Moon, who call you?"
"Jomtien man."
Just a bit of explanation here. Jomtien man, he was staying in a Jomtien condo, so let's call him Mr. Jomtien, had been with Moon about a week before. Since that time, he had called her most eagerly trying to reschedule things for a second appointment. She seemed to have made a more than positive impression on him.
"Moon, why you tell him no? I go ride bike. Call him back and tell him you can go short time with him NOW, then come back to condo."
I enjoyed watching her mind absorb this bit of information. She was eager to see him since he paid 1500 baht for short time, and he was one of those men wherein a short time was, well, quick.
"I can do?"
"Yes, call now. I go ride bike. You get money, come back when you finish."
She rapidly grabbed the phone and made the call. I, of course, could only hear her side of the conversation, but it was very evident that Mr. Jomtien was delighted to find that a short time with Moon was available to him. The total time on the phone was less than a minute. She got off with a smile on her face, and rose to put on her clothes.
Her phone rang yet again. Mr. Jomtien. Again one sided listening on my part. She got off and broke into an open laugh. "Jomtien so excited to see me, he take motorbike to my room, then take me to his condo. Not want to wait for me to take taxi." (This guy is quick.)
She dressed and started for the door. Memory finally kicked back into life. Reaching for my wallet and getting a 100 baht note, "Moon, here. On way back, you please stop at Family Mart and get sugar for us."
"Ooooh, good, good."
And we left. Me for my bike ride, Moon for her own ride.
I got back first. The ride was incredibly hot, and just as incredibly humid. I did not really enjoy it. Best part was not getting hit with any water thrown at me. Just too early for the Songkran revelers it would appear.
I was sitting at the desk, cooling down, and the door bell rang. Opening the door, I found Moon literally bouncing about and holding out the newly purchased bag of sugar. "I get! I get!"
To mercifully bring this epistle to a close, Dear Reader, I sit now at the computer -- a freshly made cup of coffee with "One sugar, please" at my wrist, and tell you of this bit of Pattaya life.
Need sugar? Go to Family Mart and get. Not in Pattaya. Those kind of straight lines do not work here. In the universe of Pattaya, Need sugar? Have farang desperate for short time. Take bike ride. Lady go short time. Farang pick her up in haste. They have SHORT time. She get sugar. Come back to condo. And the space time continuum is complete.
This tale is over. And in another bit of the strange world of Pattaya's universe, as I finish my poorly told story, I feel Moon rubbing her ever so wonderful chestly protuberances against the back of my neck. It would appear that there is work to be done.
Ahhh, it is not really work, now is it?
Pattaya is strange, wonderful, different. And damn! I do love this place.
Double click to edit
Moon came back to Pattaya yesterday.
I had to go to immigration to renew my visa today.
Absolutely no connection between these two events -- except in the wonderful world of Thai Immigration......
All my papers were completed, checked, then re-checked before I even thought about getting on the Jomtien bound baht bus. Pictures, check. Income statement, check. Forms filled out with no blank spaces, check. Have lots of baht, check.
And I am off. Moon says she wants to go with me. She dresses nicely and into the heat we go.
Rather than waste the reader's time with a boring description of the taxi ride (hot!), let me digress just a bit.
Probably everyone who has visited the Jomtien immigration office has seen the sign posted in the "lobby" area. Paraphrasing, it points out that this is a business office and appropriate wear is necessary. And farangs being farangs, this policy is observed in the lurch more than in reality. I have seen applicants in shirts that obviously came directly out of bed, shorts with stains -- often in rather strategic locations, faces with more than beard stubble, and so on.
And often I have wished the sign had something about appropriate cleanliness. More than a few times my olfactory nerves have recoiled as I came close to someone who has been working overtime at saving water for the world by avoiding contact with a shower. Used to think this was an offense primarily owned by Arabs, but with experience, I now know that I have smelled almost every nationality in Pattaya. Not something I want to see in the Guiness records, but still a fact.
And on the female side, I have seen boobs, skirts that were basically colored band-aids worn around the waist, heels that were so high the wearer could have used an altimeter. And yes, I certainly enjoyed looking at them all as I waited for my number to finally be called.
Enough of the digression, but keep that sign in mind.
Got to immigration, stepped up the the ticket dispenser, was handed a number by the trainee, and turned to see that number IMMEDIATELY displayed on the annuciator board. No waiting. This is starting out well.
Back to the senior sergeant major (did I leave out a rank?)) and Moon and I sat down. Pulling my papers out of the envelope, I heard the officer say something to Moon. She replied. I was not looked at again. As mentioned in an earlier post about the police department, I had become invisible. Invisible in immigration is good. Moon grabbed my passport, said she had to get one more page copied and was gone. The good officer started stamping pages. Invisible me sat there and almost relaxed, almost.
In short order Moon returns with whatever copy was needed. Comments were exchanged, more stamping, and she was motioned to the desk behind his. I was invisible, and thus ignored, things were going well indeed.
All seats at the next desk were taken. We stood to the side and waited. Only there for a few seconds. People in front of me left and we sat down. Again, comments in Thai between Moon and the lady officer. Moon got a funny look on her face, stood up, "I cannot stay with you. I wait outside." Huh??
Anytime something unexpected or weird happens in immigration, one must remember that the objective is to get the visa -- nothing else matters, nothing whatsoever. If Moon, for some reason, had to wait in the lobby, so be it. Get the stamps, pay the money, get the visa. Remember the objective.
"You pay 1900 baht?"
"Yes."
"You own home or rent?"
"I rent condo." Where did that question come from?? I definitely preferred being invisible.
"How much you pay rent?"
Told her, and with that, she makes some written entries, tells me to sign all pages, hits a couple of pages with yet another stamp, and "Come back tomorrow afternoon for passport." I eagerly took the purple claim check and headed for the exit.
Moon had not gone outside, but was waiting near the doors. She saw me coming, smiled, and we headed back down the trail we had used to get to this point.
One more disgression - the last, I promise. This one is totally necessary.
Moon was in a nice pair of denim jeans (pretty much the Thai ladies national uniform) and a white cotton or linen top. The top of the top was high, not even a hint of cleavage. Her hair was well combed, freshly washed, she looked both normal and good. Oh, almost forgot. Under the white top, she wore a brilliant turquoise bra. Easily visible through the whiteness of the top. In truth, any bra would have been visible through the blouse.
As we walked back to the road to catch a taxi, she started to talk.....
"Lady tell me I cannot sit with you. She tell me this is business office. She can see my bra. I am not dressed correctly. I must leave or she will not issue you a visa. Tell me I do not look good since she can see my bra. Tell me to go outside. I go to door and wait, but not go outside. You think I not look good?"
Of course, only one answer to that question,, but what the hell just happened? I asked her to tell me again what the lady officer had told her. And again, the same story. The lady could see her bra underneath the blouse, and basically demanded that Moon leave the office as she was not wearing appropriate attire.
Wow! Blindsided by a TIT moment which came out of nowhere. One of those, "If it had not happened to me, I would not believe the story" events. The dress code enforced, and on a Thai -- who was dressed conservatively. TIT, TIT, TIT!
The law of averages should allow me to have a perfectly ordinary immigration visit at some point. Has not happened yet, but has to occur, right?
At this point, I almost look forward to going for yet another renewal. Each trip has been an adventure, something not entirely pleasant as it took place, but looked back on with amusement and fondness.
Once we got back to the condo, Moon and I decided to take off the offending bra -- and some other items. The afternoon passed most pleasantly.
Damn! I truly love this place.
I had to go to immigration to renew my visa today.
Absolutely no connection between these two events -- except in the wonderful world of Thai Immigration......
All my papers were completed, checked, then re-checked before I even thought about getting on the Jomtien bound baht bus. Pictures, check. Income statement, check. Forms filled out with no blank spaces, check. Have lots of baht, check.
And I am off. Moon says she wants to go with me. She dresses nicely and into the heat we go.
Rather than waste the reader's time with a boring description of the taxi ride (hot!), let me digress just a bit.
Probably everyone who has visited the Jomtien immigration office has seen the sign posted in the "lobby" area. Paraphrasing, it points out that this is a business office and appropriate wear is necessary. And farangs being farangs, this policy is observed in the lurch more than in reality. I have seen applicants in shirts that obviously came directly out of bed, shorts with stains -- often in rather strategic locations, faces with more than beard stubble, and so on.
And often I have wished the sign had something about appropriate cleanliness. More than a few times my olfactory nerves have recoiled as I came close to someone who has been working overtime at saving water for the world by avoiding contact with a shower. Used to think this was an offense primarily owned by Arabs, but with experience, I now know that I have smelled almost every nationality in Pattaya. Not something I want to see in the Guiness records, but still a fact.
And on the female side, I have seen boobs, skirts that were basically colored band-aids worn around the waist, heels that were so high the wearer could have used an altimeter. And yes, I certainly enjoyed looking at them all as I waited for my number to finally be called.
Enough of the digression, but keep that sign in mind.
Got to immigration, stepped up the the ticket dispenser, was handed a number by the trainee, and turned to see that number IMMEDIATELY displayed on the annuciator board. No waiting. This is starting out well.
Back to the senior sergeant major (did I leave out a rank?)) and Moon and I sat down. Pulling my papers out of the envelope, I heard the officer say something to Moon. She replied. I was not looked at again. As mentioned in an earlier post about the police department, I had become invisible. Invisible in immigration is good. Moon grabbed my passport, said she had to get one more page copied and was gone. The good officer started stamping pages. Invisible me sat there and almost relaxed, almost.
In short order Moon returns with whatever copy was needed. Comments were exchanged, more stamping, and she was motioned to the desk behind his. I was invisible, and thus ignored, things were going well indeed.
All seats at the next desk were taken. We stood to the side and waited. Only there for a few seconds. People in front of me left and we sat down. Again, comments in Thai between Moon and the lady officer. Moon got a funny look on her face, stood up, "I cannot stay with you. I wait outside." Huh??
Anytime something unexpected or weird happens in immigration, one must remember that the objective is to get the visa -- nothing else matters, nothing whatsoever. If Moon, for some reason, had to wait in the lobby, so be it. Get the stamps, pay the money, get the visa. Remember the objective.
"You pay 1900 baht?"
"Yes."
"You own home or rent?"
"I rent condo." Where did that question come from?? I definitely preferred being invisible.
"How much you pay rent?"
Told her, and with that, she makes some written entries, tells me to sign all pages, hits a couple of pages with yet another stamp, and "Come back tomorrow afternoon for passport." I eagerly took the purple claim check and headed for the exit.
Moon had not gone outside, but was waiting near the doors. She saw me coming, smiled, and we headed back down the trail we had used to get to this point.
One more disgression - the last, I promise. This one is totally necessary.
Moon was in a nice pair of denim jeans (pretty much the Thai ladies national uniform) and a white cotton or linen top. The top of the top was high, not even a hint of cleavage. Her hair was well combed, freshly washed, she looked both normal and good. Oh, almost forgot. Under the white top, she wore a brilliant turquoise bra. Easily visible through the whiteness of the top. In truth, any bra would have been visible through the blouse.
As we walked back to the road to catch a taxi, she started to talk.....
"Lady tell me I cannot sit with you. She tell me this is business office. She can see my bra. I am not dressed correctly. I must leave or she will not issue you a visa. Tell me I do not look good since she can see my bra. Tell me to go outside. I go to door and wait, but not go outside. You think I not look good?"
Of course, only one answer to that question,, but what the hell just happened? I asked her to tell me again what the lady officer had told her. And again, the same story. The lady could see her bra underneath the blouse, and basically demanded that Moon leave the office as she was not wearing appropriate attire.
Wow! Blindsided by a TIT moment which came out of nowhere. One of those, "If it had not happened to me, I would not believe the story" events. The dress code enforced, and on a Thai -- who was dressed conservatively. TIT, TIT, TIT!
The law of averages should allow me to have a perfectly ordinary immigration visit at some point. Has not happened yet, but has to occur, right?
At this point, I almost look forward to going for yet another renewal. Each trip has been an adventure, something not entirely pleasant as it took place, but looked back on with amusement and fondness.
Once we got back to the condo, Moon and I decided to take off the offending bra -- and some other items. The afternoon passed most pleasantly.
Damn! I truly love this place.
In another string, a member used the analogy of going to Disneyland and lifting the head of Donald Duck to see the reality of the individual underneath. A most apt description and certainly one of those "Wish I had thought of that" phrases.
Last night reality lifted Donald's mask for me, and having spent almost two years now in Fantasyland, I did not like the real life that was suddenly shown to me.
Moon was a find -- a real find. One of the two absolute best I have taken out of the Pattaya Beer Garden. With incredible luck I met her on her first night in Pattaya. She came here from BKK, having worked as a cook at a hotel there. As I learned from her, she had done a minor bit of freelancing in big city due to her job, like so many in LOS, not really paying enough to cover her expenses.
A very cute, roundish face, a smile so warm as to be part of global warming, a delightful bouncy personality, and yes, a veritable wonder in bed. Due to her inexperience, she was far from an expert, but was a most eager learner, and as she found that she too could have feelings and enjoyment, she became a sex tiger -- hungry for more and more ways to feel, to enjoy, to work herself into a breathless panting exhaustion. And then let's do it again.
I knew that she would not last long. Someone was going to latch onto her and the money would be flowing from his account to hers in short order. After the first night, I would have given even odds that I would never see her again due the unknown farang removing her to the sidelines for his personal trophy case.
Buddha smiled on me. Somewhere about a week or so after that wonderful first long time, she called me and wanted to come over. Giving her a quick "yes" was one of the easiest things I have done since coming here.
To shorten this, it seems that she enjoyed me seemingly as much as I her. GFE, feelings, the money? Did not matter to me, I was going to get a second go with a proven winner. Life was good.
And then Buddha threw me a curve ball, a really sharp breaking curve ball. In the late hours of our second night I began to feel sick, horribly sick. By 0400 I was almost unconcious and knew that BPH was once again in my very near future. Into the taxi and then the by now far too familiar routine of becoming a patient. Turns out I did lapse into the nether world. I eventually came to in an overly large room with doctors, nurses, and Moon. She had jumped into the taxi and came to the hospital with me.
She did not leave the hospital other than to return to my condo to get me some clean underwear and a razor, for the next four days.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
And while I was at BPH, she told me about "man from Australia want me to go Phuket for week with him". Instead she stayed with me at BPH.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
Time passed in its Pattaya wonderful way. I did my usual butterfly routine, she got her financial contributors from the beer garden and even just walking down the street, and we managed to still get together. She would tell me about the men, we would laugh at how they acted and the things they said and did, and then we would greedily enjoy each other's bodies. Life was good, very good, and Donald Duck remained with his mask intact. Fantasyland on earth.
She told me she was going to her home in Turin to take care of her sick mother and would be in touch with me. Literally disappeared, no calls, no SMS, the usual when one of the ladies takes off for an extended trip with a farang. OK, my time with her had been short, but ever so sweet. Thank you, Donald. Fantasyland is great.
Earlier this week she called. Her voice was heavy with tiredness. She was in BKK, and catching the bus back to Pattaya. Wanted to know if she could once again get into my life. Would not be much of a story if I had said "no", and also would not be a very smart move on my part. Like turning down a free ticket for an E ride.
We got together this week, four days ago now. Had her stay with me two days/nights -- not an ordinary practice, but Moon was a find......
And as the second day was winding down, let's go for three. Felt right to me, seemed to feel right to her. I had given her 2500B to cover the rent on her room (visited it once -- beyond depressing), and she told me that I did not have to give her money for the third day.
Have to slow down just a bit here. As we spent out time together, we had talked extensively about her visit to her mother. I was totally convinced that she had been with a farang, but as our conversations continued, I found I was wrong. She really had been with her comatose mother in one of Thailand's hospitals. Her descriptions of cleaning up her mother's bowel movements were just too correct, too heartfelt to be anything but the truth.
Last night we had dinner at one of the Thai buffets where you can pick prepared food, or get uncooked meats of every variety and cook them over a super hot charcoal grill. She ate as only a small Thai lady can eat. Putting that much food into such a small body has to break at least four laws of physics.
From the dinner, we went to Misty's. She had never been in a gogo and was literally bouncing with excitement as we finished dinner and jumped into a baht bus for Walking Street. Once inside M's and seated, her eyes opened wider and wider as she took in the ever so many damsels in some stage of undressed, including not dressed at all. Her head was on a swivel as she tried to take in the entire, constantly changing scene.
The longer we stayed, the closer she came to me. By showtime, she had one leg across my own and was making sure that her breasts were constantly rubbing me. Her hands spent more time between my legs than they did handling her drink -- orange juice. Cheap date.
As the show progressed, she was actually leaning forward, thoroughly absorbed with each thrust and plunge of the performers. Ahhh, Donald, you have a wonderful home.
And back to the condo. At Misty's I checked my phone for a couple of messages and asked her about her phone. "I leave at condo. Not want to listen."
We came in and she turned her phone on. "My sister call me many times". There was more than a little concern in her voice. She called, but I, and you, knew what had happened.
As she put the phone down, her face had turned white, her eyes just short of crying, and her voice was choked. "Mama die".
Reality ripped Donald's mask from his head.
It was a long night.
She left this morning, bus to BKK, then the ever so long ride to her home. She had broken down only once, and sobbed uncontrollably into my chest for about three minutes. A lot of strength there. An incredible amount of pain also there. In candor, seeing her agony (right word), I found I was having to force back tears myself. Reality can really suck.
Reality ripped Donald's mask from his head last night -- and hit me in the face with the fact that I live in fantasyland, having a fantasy life.
Give me a few minutes and I will get Donald's mask back on his head. Only when this is done can I once again tell you, Damn! I love this place.
Foot note:
Had to cut my bike ride short this morning. Damned wind just kept making my eyes tear up.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
Last night reality lifted Donald's mask for me, and having spent almost two years now in Fantasyland, I did not like the real life that was suddenly shown to me.
Moon was a find -- a real find. One of the two absolute best I have taken out of the Pattaya Beer Garden. With incredible luck I met her on her first night in Pattaya. She came here from BKK, having worked as a cook at a hotel there. As I learned from her, she had done a minor bit of freelancing in big city due to her job, like so many in LOS, not really paying enough to cover her expenses.
A very cute, roundish face, a smile so warm as to be part of global warming, a delightful bouncy personality, and yes, a veritable wonder in bed. Due to her inexperience, she was far from an expert, but was a most eager learner, and as she found that she too could have feelings and enjoyment, she became a sex tiger -- hungry for more and more ways to feel, to enjoy, to work herself into a breathless panting exhaustion. And then let's do it again.
I knew that she would not last long. Someone was going to latch onto her and the money would be flowing from his account to hers in short order. After the first night, I would have given even odds that I would never see her again due the unknown farang removing her to the sidelines for his personal trophy case.
Buddha smiled on me. Somewhere about a week or so after that wonderful first long time, she called me and wanted to come over. Giving her a quick "yes" was one of the easiest things I have done since coming here.
To shorten this, it seems that she enjoyed me seemingly as much as I her. GFE, feelings, the money? Did not matter to me, I was going to get a second go with a proven winner. Life was good.
And then Buddha threw me a curve ball, a really sharp breaking curve ball. In the late hours of our second night I began to feel sick, horribly sick. By 0400 I was almost unconcious and knew that BPH was once again in my very near future. Into the taxi and then the by now far too familiar routine of becoming a patient. Turns out I did lapse into the nether world. I eventually came to in an overly large room with doctors, nurses, and Moon. She had jumped into the taxi and came to the hospital with me.
She did not leave the hospital other than to return to my condo to get me some clean underwear and a razor, for the next four days.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
And while I was at BPH, she told me about "man from Australia want me to go Phuket for week with him". Instead she stayed with me at BPH.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
Time passed in its Pattaya wonderful way. I did my usual butterfly routine, she got her financial contributors from the beer garden and even just walking down the street, and we managed to still get together. She would tell me about the men, we would laugh at how they acted and the things they said and did, and then we would greedily enjoy each other's bodies. Life was good, very good, and Donald Duck remained with his mask intact. Fantasyland on earth.
She told me she was going to her home in Turin to take care of her sick mother and would be in touch with me. Literally disappeared, no calls, no SMS, the usual when one of the ladies takes off for an extended trip with a farang. OK, my time with her had been short, but ever so sweet. Thank you, Donald. Fantasyland is great.
Earlier this week she called. Her voice was heavy with tiredness. She was in BKK, and catching the bus back to Pattaya. Wanted to know if she could once again get into my life. Would not be much of a story if I had said "no", and also would not be a very smart move on my part. Like turning down a free ticket for an E ride.
We got together this week, four days ago now. Had her stay with me two days/nights -- not an ordinary practice, but Moon was a find......
And as the second day was winding down, let's go for three. Felt right to me, seemed to feel right to her. I had given her 2500B to cover the rent on her room (visited it once -- beyond depressing), and she told me that I did not have to give her money for the third day.
Have to slow down just a bit here. As we spent out time together, we had talked extensively about her visit to her mother. I was totally convinced that she had been with a farang, but as our conversations continued, I found I was wrong. She really had been with her comatose mother in one of Thailand's hospitals. Her descriptions of cleaning up her mother's bowel movements were just too correct, too heartfelt to be anything but the truth.
Last night we had dinner at one of the Thai buffets where you can pick prepared food, or get uncooked meats of every variety and cook them over a super hot charcoal grill. She ate as only a small Thai lady can eat. Putting that much food into such a small body has to break at least four laws of physics.
From the dinner, we went to Misty's. She had never been in a gogo and was literally bouncing with excitement as we finished dinner and jumped into a baht bus for Walking Street. Once inside M's and seated, her eyes opened wider and wider as she took in the ever so many damsels in some stage of undressed, including not dressed at all. Her head was on a swivel as she tried to take in the entire, constantly changing scene.
The longer we stayed, the closer she came to me. By showtime, she had one leg across my own and was making sure that her breasts were constantly rubbing me. Her hands spent more time between my legs than they did handling her drink -- orange juice. Cheap date.
As the show progressed, she was actually leaning forward, thoroughly absorbed with each thrust and plunge of the performers. Ahhh, Donald, you have a wonderful home.
And back to the condo. At Misty's I checked my phone for a couple of messages and asked her about her phone. "I leave at condo. Not want to listen."
We came in and she turned her phone on. "My sister call me many times". There was more than a little concern in her voice. She called, but I, and you, knew what had happened.
As she put the phone down, her face had turned white, her eyes just short of crying, and her voice was choked. "Mama die".
Reality ripped Donald's mask from his head.
It was a long night.
She left this morning, bus to BKK, then the ever so long ride to her home. She had broken down only once, and sobbed uncontrollably into my chest for about three minutes. A lot of strength there. An incredible amount of pain also there. In candor, seeing her agony (right word), I found I was having to force back tears myself. Reality can really suck.
Reality ripped Donald's mask from his head last night -- and hit me in the face with the fact that I live in fantasyland, having a fantasy life.
Give me a few minutes and I will get Donald's mask back on his head. Only when this is done can I once again tell you, Damn! I love this place.
Foot note:
Had to cut my bike ride short this morning. Damned wind just kept making my eyes tear up.
Moon was a find -- a real find.
Having grown up poor in the southern United States, I can still remember how my parents emphasized almost daily the importance of education and what it could mean to my life. And now,as I quickly approach 65, their wisdom still shows itself in ever so many ways. I have made it a point to thank them for this guidance on many occasions, but in truth, I just do not see myself telling them of this latest educational payoff.
I had not seen Pilot and Dang since the 4 2 4 night and the adventure that became. Dang made it clear that she wanted to be much closer to me than I desired. We spoke on the phone often, but I always put her off. Until the other night.......
I had been in one of my spells -- one where I was taking at least one lady every day, and even an occasional two in a 24 hour period. While this is normal for some members, for me, it happens periodically, and then the system basically shuts down for R & R. Not something I can control or alter, it seems.
I was in the R & R phase, the well was dry, and the night's entertainment was to be another episode of "Survivor" on television. My phone rang, Dang, and we talked briefly as to "How you?", "You OK?" I knew she wanted to come over, but I simply had no interest -- the factory was closed for renovation.
As we talked, it slowly became evident to me that she had a new tone to her voice, and that she was all but insistent that both she and Pilot needed to see me. I had no idea as to why this was so important, but figured that we could have some food, laughs, and just enjoy a friendly evening. I gave in and told her to come on over in about a half hour.
My door bell rang at almost exactly the half hour point, and the two ladies came in with smiles and the usual Thai grace. After some brief conversation, it became clear that the two of them were hungry, and had been living on the infamous noodle cups for a couple of days. What the hell! Let's order from room service.
They went over the menu with all the glee of children opening Christmas presents. In short order food was called for and we cleared the table in anticipation. I had no idea of what was coming inasmuch as the entire matter had been conducted in Thai, but I figured whatever came would be more than enjoyable, so no risk on my part.
The order came, was carried to the table, and the meal began. We had a very large whole fish of some sort, a seafood soup, rice of course, and another dish or so. Far too much food for the three of us. In less than an hour, the only thing left on the platters was some fish bones. They really had been hungry.
We sat on the sofa, watched some Thai soap opera, and laughed together. Pilot began to speak to me. I got some of what she was saying, but knew I had misunderstood several points. I asked her to tell me again -- "Not understand."
And then my brain gradually began to come to grips with what I was hearing. Pilot wanted me to help her teach Dang how to give better blow jobs. WHAT??!! YOU JOKE ME! I was assured that this was not a joke and that my help would really be appreciated. They did not know another farang that they would have been comfortable approaching on such a request.
An aside at this point -- I personally did not feel that Dang needed any instruction in her oral skills. I had her three short times before we had engaged in traditional push up activity. Once her mouth had settled over me, I had just relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
But now Pilot wanted to teach, and she needed a teacher's tool. I probably took about 1.5 nanoseconds to agree. After all, who was I to stand in the way of someone getting more education -- my parents would disown me had I done so.
In very short order the three of us were sans clothes and on the bed. I quickly arranged two pillows under my head so I could watch the lesson as it developed.
Pilot started the class. It was conducted all in Thai, I could only guess at what was being said, but I think I was able to get the gist of what happened.
Situating herself between my legs, gently taking me in her hands, speaking to Dang who was just outside my left leg and eagerly looking on, class became in session.
Pilot spoke to Dang, then proceeded to -- giving new meaning to the term -- give me a tongue lashing. I watched in wonder until my eyes crossed and I started seeing double. At that point I just closed them and felt, just felt.
It was Pilot, then Dang practicing, then Pilot, then Dang, then -- I lost track of who was where. I am positive that I levitated above the bed and floated in a totally blissful state of anti-gravity. OH MY GOD!!!
Somewhere along the way, I reached for Dang, pulled her above me, and began to practice my own oral abilities. Pilot remained below, proving she really did have a doctorate in MOUTH.
I remember hearing Dang moaning, and thought her voice had gotten a lot lower in range. It took a few minutes to realize the moans came from me. Such realization did nothing to make them stop.
As things moved on, I found that Dang and Pilot had switched positions, and I again floated above the bed. Life was good.
From that point, we became a threesome of moving, rolling, probing bodies. I cannot really recall who was where, who did what, but it all just went on and on. Never had school been so down right wonderful.
Three people working so diligently to further one's education it turns out generates an enormous amount of heat. I was sweating, the ladies were panting, in short things were getting hot. In the background I could hear the air conditioner whining like a Ferrari on the Le Mans straightaway. Thank goodness my landlord had the foresight to install the large orgy model.
Please remember my opening comments. I was dry. No Texas well had ever been more of a dry hole than I was -- there was just nothing in me to give. And now this became a challenge to the two ladies. Pilot was back below while Dang fed me her boobs -- left one, right one, then repeat just to be sure we had it right. And nothing came.
Comments were made in Thai -- I am guessing that Pilot finally admitted to fatigue and frustration -- and Dang looked at me, "You fuck me now". Well, how could I refuse such a diligent student.
Pilot rubbed, I plunged, Dang thrust back at me. And nothing came.
Use the hands, all four in quick switching succession. And nothing came.
That night you could have hooked me up to one of Mr. Hoover's vacuums, even the thousand dollar model, and nothing would have come.
Time and motion passed. The ladies were truly getting upset at the lack of waterworks. I had to stop things out of consideration of their feelings. It took a lot of explaining, but I think I got the point across that they had in no way failed -- far from it. With this understanding, they finally began to relax and smile. We simply laid together for at least a half hour, just recovering.
Showers, clothes on, smiling faces, and school was over for the day.
Near as I can compute, it works out as follows:
Room service meal for the night -- 700 baht.
Honorarium for the two ladies -- delivered by trembling hands -- 2000 baht.
Being a teaching tool -- PRICELESS.
FOLLOW UP: Dang called and came by the other night. She played nurse for me, cold towels, glasses of orange juice, no sex of any kind -- I was just not up to it at that point. However, she did get across to me that she and Pilot wanted to come back in an attempt to get Dang an advanced degree. Just let me finally get over this sinus infection.....
Damn! I love this place.
I had not seen Pilot and Dang since the 4 2 4 night and the adventure that became. Dang made it clear that she wanted to be much closer to me than I desired. We spoke on the phone often, but I always put her off. Until the other night.......
I had been in one of my spells -- one where I was taking at least one lady every day, and even an occasional two in a 24 hour period. While this is normal for some members, for me, it happens periodically, and then the system basically shuts down for R & R. Not something I can control or alter, it seems.
I was in the R & R phase, the well was dry, and the night's entertainment was to be another episode of "Survivor" on television. My phone rang, Dang, and we talked briefly as to "How you?", "You OK?" I knew she wanted to come over, but I simply had no interest -- the factory was closed for renovation.
As we talked, it slowly became evident to me that she had a new tone to her voice, and that she was all but insistent that both she and Pilot needed to see me. I had no idea as to why this was so important, but figured that we could have some food, laughs, and just enjoy a friendly evening. I gave in and told her to come on over in about a half hour.
My door bell rang at almost exactly the half hour point, and the two ladies came in with smiles and the usual Thai grace. After some brief conversation, it became clear that the two of them were hungry, and had been living on the infamous noodle cups for a couple of days. What the hell! Let's order from room service.
They went over the menu with all the glee of children opening Christmas presents. In short order food was called for and we cleared the table in anticipation. I had no idea of what was coming inasmuch as the entire matter had been conducted in Thai, but I figured whatever came would be more than enjoyable, so no risk on my part.
The order came, was carried to the table, and the meal began. We had a very large whole fish of some sort, a seafood soup, rice of course, and another dish or so. Far too much food for the three of us. In less than an hour, the only thing left on the platters was some fish bones. They really had been hungry.
We sat on the sofa, watched some Thai soap opera, and laughed together. Pilot began to speak to me. I got some of what she was saying, but knew I had misunderstood several points. I asked her to tell me again -- "Not understand."
And then my brain gradually began to come to grips with what I was hearing. Pilot wanted me to help her teach Dang how to give better blow jobs. WHAT??!! YOU JOKE ME! I was assured that this was not a joke and that my help would really be appreciated. They did not know another farang that they would have been comfortable approaching on such a request.
An aside at this point -- I personally did not feel that Dang needed any instruction in her oral skills. I had her three short times before we had engaged in traditional push up activity. Once her mouth had settled over me, I had just relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
But now Pilot wanted to teach, and she needed a teacher's tool. I probably took about 1.5 nanoseconds to agree. After all, who was I to stand in the way of someone getting more education -- my parents would disown me had I done so.
In very short order the three of us were sans clothes and on the bed. I quickly arranged two pillows under my head so I could watch the lesson as it developed.
Pilot started the class. It was conducted all in Thai, I could only guess at what was being said, but I think I was able to get the gist of what happened.
Situating herself between my legs, gently taking me in her hands, speaking to Dang who was just outside my left leg and eagerly looking on, class became in session.
Pilot spoke to Dang, then proceeded to -- giving new meaning to the term -- give me a tongue lashing. I watched in wonder until my eyes crossed and I started seeing double. At that point I just closed them and felt, just felt.
It was Pilot, then Dang practicing, then Pilot, then Dang, then -- I lost track of who was where. I am positive that I levitated above the bed and floated in a totally blissful state of anti-gravity. OH MY GOD!!!
Somewhere along the way, I reached for Dang, pulled her above me, and began to practice my own oral abilities. Pilot remained below, proving she really did have a doctorate in MOUTH.
I remember hearing Dang moaning, and thought her voice had gotten a lot lower in range. It took a few minutes to realize the moans came from me. Such realization did nothing to make them stop.
As things moved on, I found that Dang and Pilot had switched positions, and I again floated above the bed. Life was good.
From that point, we became a threesome of moving, rolling, probing bodies. I cannot really recall who was where, who did what, but it all just went on and on. Never had school been so down right wonderful.
Three people working so diligently to further one's education it turns out generates an enormous amount of heat. I was sweating, the ladies were panting, in short things were getting hot. In the background I could hear the air conditioner whining like a Ferrari on the Le Mans straightaway. Thank goodness my landlord had the foresight to install the large orgy model.
Please remember my opening comments. I was dry. No Texas well had ever been more of a dry hole than I was -- there was just nothing in me to give. And now this became a challenge to the two ladies. Pilot was back below while Dang fed me her boobs -- left one, right one, then repeat just to be sure we had it right. And nothing came.
Comments were made in Thai -- I am guessing that Pilot finally admitted to fatigue and frustration -- and Dang looked at me, "You fuck me now". Well, how could I refuse such a diligent student.
Pilot rubbed, I plunged, Dang thrust back at me. And nothing came.
Use the hands, all four in quick switching succession. And nothing came.
That night you could have hooked me up to one of Mr. Hoover's vacuums, even the thousand dollar model, and nothing would have come.
Time and motion passed. The ladies were truly getting upset at the lack of waterworks. I had to stop things out of consideration of their feelings. It took a lot of explaining, but I think I got the point across that they had in no way failed -- far from it. With this understanding, they finally began to relax and smile. We simply laid together for at least a half hour, just recovering.
Showers, clothes on, smiling faces, and school was over for the day.
Near as I can compute, it works out as follows:
Room service meal for the night -- 700 baht.
Honorarium for the two ladies -- delivered by trembling hands -- 2000 baht.
Being a teaching tool -- PRICELESS.
FOLLOW UP: Dang called and came by the other night. She played nurse for me, cold towels, glasses of orange juice, no sex of any kind -- I was just not up to it at that point. However, she did get across to me that she and Pilot wanted to come back in an attempt to get Dang an advanced degree. Just let me finally get over this sinus infection.....
Damn! I love this place.
A COLLECTION OF SHORT PATTAYA EXPERIENCES BY A PATTAYA RETIREE WHO WE WILL CALL ..... DAMM I LOVE THIS PLACE
Somewhere around the ninth grade, I learned about the magical number Pi -- 3.14 if memory serves me correctly. That value has pretty much been it for a single number having any magical attributes. Social security -- just something to put down on innumerable forms back in the states. Passport number -- that goes into any and all Immigration Department forms on my various trips to Soi 5 in Jomtien. Pi was solitary in its significance.
And then came 4 2 4. Or 424 if you prefer.
4 is the square of 2, which makes 2 the square root of 4, and re-squared, we come back to 4. 4 2 4. Even if written as time -- 4:24 -- it was simply a grouping of digits -- nothing different than any other such integers. If pressed for an attribute, I would have taken a wild guess that 4:24 is the approximate time of morning when Mongo finally rolls over and goes to sleep after yet another night of attempting to bed all the gogo girls in Pattaya. And it would be the wildest of ventures inasmuch as I have never made it past midnight on the many times I have wandered the various sois and canyons off Walking Street with him. Color me wimp.
But let me get back to the new magical number in my life.
Dang and Pilot (closest I can come) are freelancers working the beach. Both are getting on in years, and Dang is an especially nice lady. I have actually become friends with her. Last night I met her on the beach pathway,and just sat and talked for a good half hour. She had no money, and I slipped 200 baht into her hand before going on to other adventures. End of story, and hardly worth using the reader's time, or so I thought.
I came awake to my phone ringing. Quickly slipping my glasses on, I reached to that bit of electronic intrusion, and there it was, glowing from the nightstand -- exactly 4:24.
"Hello." More than groggily.
"Halley. I solly. Police. Wait." I recognized the voice as Dang's. She has far less English ability than Pilot, and often passes her phone to Pilot who will act as a communications conduit. I knew the "Wait" was for her to pass on her phone.
"Halley, you come help us. Police have us. 200 baht. Dang have no money. We go monkey house you not come."
"Uh, where are you? I do not know where police department is."
In truth, it is on Beach Road, Soi 9, and I pass it daily. My brain remained somewhere on the pillow while my mouth was rambling on in classic, confused, old man form.
"Halley, Soi 9. Soi 9. You come now please. No want to go monkey house."
I am sure that a bit more conversation took place. It gave my brain time to join the rest of me, and I agreed to go to Soi 9 with 200 baht to avoid the dreaded monkey house.
I had gotten my clothes on, was about fifty feet from Beach Road at what was now a tad later than 4:24 when my phone rang again.
Pilot, "Halley, you come? Police want take us monkey house. Not believe that you come."
"I am on the way. I have to catch song tow (taxi), and not see many now."
Actually I saw none. Looked like I was going to have to walk the 8 sois. Motorbike taxis were available, but if the solution to their problem involved my getting on a motorbike, the two ladies were firmly destined for the monkey house.
I started walking up the beach, gradually coming back to full reality. It took me about one soi to realize that there were a great many people on the walkway -- all of them Thais, young Thais, and their eyes followed me with the same look I see on the Discovery channel as a pride of lions gaze at a solitary zebra.
I quickly moved back across Beach Road and accepted that this walk was going to be a long one. Some time and steps later I heard the familiar "beep, beep" of a song tow driver hoping for a fare. I turned and held out my hand. Settling onto the bench seat, I started looking for soi street signs. Hard to see in the dim lights, and of course, my phone rang one more time to distract me. Pilot again in all but a state of panic.
"I come, I come" (No, not that come -- I'm in a taxi, remember?)
With the phone distraction and a driver who seemed to be in training for a gran prix race driver slot, I suddenly saw Soi 10 flash by. Ugh! Now I have to walk back.
Once I got to Soi 9 and started into the police station, my natural wariness kicked in, and I was not going inside unless I knew exactly where, how, who, etc. It is past 4:24, and I am just going to stroll into the home of the browns? Not.
This time I called Dang. The phone was picked up by Pilot within a millisecond of beginning to ring.
"Hey, I am here. Where do I go?"
"Come inside! Come inside now!"
I walked up to the double doors and entered.
There were four officers behind the counter. Standing in front and almost crying in relief at seeing me were the two Thai ladies.
And I was to pay 400 baht for them.
4 2 4.
I put a 500 baht note on the counter. One of the officers reached over and took it. I was not spoken to, looked at, or acknowledged in any way. I was dismissed as if I was a -- well -- a farang.
4 officers, 2 ladies, 4 hundred baht.
He got out a receipt book and began making entries. Since I did not exist, I moved to the end of the counter and watched a part of the U. S. Open tennis broadcast. Serena Williams was beating that day's lady with an unpronounceable name -- nothing new there.
Finally receipts were given to each lady, and we all but trotted out the door and to freedom. Not a lot was said until we had managed to get to the beach walkway.
In short order they began to tell their story, and quickly let me know they were going to walk me back to my condo to be sure nothing untoward happened. Those lion eyes were still around various spots, so I hardly argued.
As we started to walk, two other ladies joined us. They were all talking excitedly. Something good apparently was said since the two newbys kept saying, "Good farang. Good farang." They walked with us to -- here it comes -- Soi 5.
4 ladies. 2 holding hands with me. Walking 4 blocks.
It seems that the police had set up some sort of major sweep of the beach. This was not just three or four officers strolling along, but rather was a full squad coming north, another of equal size moving south, and a third suddenly being deposited along Beach Road to prevent anyone escaping across the street. Only exit was the bay.
From what I was able to gather, somewhere around 25 ladies and lady boys were scooped up.
One farang thought he would be a hero, and quickly told a lady to stand next to him and be his wife. Not smart. Living example of the old saying that nothing good happens at three o'clock in the morning -- especially to farangs who try to get involved in Thai affairs. He explained to the browns that this was his wife and they were out for a very early morning stroll. In the meantime, another officer had moved his wife away from his side.
"What is your wife's name?" Nothing but a startled look from the farang, and finally. "I do not know."
The same question was being asked in Thai of the wife. Game over.
Bad move. No make that BAD MOVE by the farang. Ladies could get off for 200 baht. Special rate for farangs who decide to play with the browns -- 1000 baht.
Each and every sweepee was made to assemble into either a male or female grouping at the police station. (Lady boys went into the male flock. I asked. Just had to know.) Then they were marched outside of the station by several browns of the same sex, given a vial, and told to urinate into same.
"You went outside and had to pee pee?"
"Yes, all ladies had to pee into tube. Dang and I have no problem. Ours stay clear. If turn purple, go monkey house."
Having long ago disappointed my mother by deciding NOT to become a doctor, I can only guess as to what the purple color indicated, but I would venture that whatever it was, it was probably not legal.
Purple equaled monkey house. Forget the 200 baht, no get out of jail card available.
We eventually made it to the condo neighborhood, and what the hell -- I am now awake, the sky in turning pink in the east. Let's go into Family Mart, grab some food of some sort, a small bag of coffee, powdered coffee cream, and go up and unwind.
Inside, coffee was quickly brewed (Do you "brew" instant coffee??) and the various cakes and breads laid out. As with any high pressure situation once passed, a lot of laughter and conversation quickly flowed -- especially from the two of them.
After a bit, nature progressed to the point that you could call it "day light", Pilot said she was going to go back to the beach. According to her, there is some German guy well into his seventies who wakes up early and often meets her somewhere near Soi 1. He pays her to go back to his place and just sleep with him. What was once a sword is evidently now a wet rope. Ahh, getting old is not full of great promises.
She left with many "Kar poon kahs" which left Dang and I alone, and being a most dear lady, she decided to show her appreciation before going on to her room for some eagerly sought sleep.
After a bit of joint exercise, she was ready to leave. I realized that she probably had no money other than change. I gave her 200 baht and told her to get some food when she woke up.
4 hundred baht in 2 payments 4 a very nice lady. Nahhh, that's a stretch and definitely an indication that it is time to bring this story to a close.
4 2 4. Until tonight, just another number -- but now one that is firmly placed on my ever growing list of reasons for me to say, "Damn, I love this place!"
And then came 4 2 4. Or 424 if you prefer.
4 is the square of 2, which makes 2 the square root of 4, and re-squared, we come back to 4. 4 2 4. Even if written as time -- 4:24 -- it was simply a grouping of digits -- nothing different than any other such integers. If pressed for an attribute, I would have taken a wild guess that 4:24 is the approximate time of morning when Mongo finally rolls over and goes to sleep after yet another night of attempting to bed all the gogo girls in Pattaya. And it would be the wildest of ventures inasmuch as I have never made it past midnight on the many times I have wandered the various sois and canyons off Walking Street with him. Color me wimp.
But let me get back to the new magical number in my life.
Dang and Pilot (closest I can come) are freelancers working the beach. Both are getting on in years, and Dang is an especially nice lady. I have actually become friends with her. Last night I met her on the beach pathway,and just sat and talked for a good half hour. She had no money, and I slipped 200 baht into her hand before going on to other adventures. End of story, and hardly worth using the reader's time, or so I thought.
I came awake to my phone ringing. Quickly slipping my glasses on, I reached to that bit of electronic intrusion, and there it was, glowing from the nightstand -- exactly 4:24.
"Hello." More than groggily.
"Halley. I solly. Police. Wait." I recognized the voice as Dang's. She has far less English ability than Pilot, and often passes her phone to Pilot who will act as a communications conduit. I knew the "Wait" was for her to pass on her phone.
"Halley, you come help us. Police have us. 200 baht. Dang have no money. We go monkey house you not come."
"Uh, where are you? I do not know where police department is."
In truth, it is on Beach Road, Soi 9, and I pass it daily. My brain remained somewhere on the pillow while my mouth was rambling on in classic, confused, old man form.
"Halley, Soi 9. Soi 9. You come now please. No want to go monkey house."
I am sure that a bit more conversation took place. It gave my brain time to join the rest of me, and I agreed to go to Soi 9 with 200 baht to avoid the dreaded monkey house.
I had gotten my clothes on, was about fifty feet from Beach Road at what was now a tad later than 4:24 when my phone rang again.
Pilot, "Halley, you come? Police want take us monkey house. Not believe that you come."
"I am on the way. I have to catch song tow (taxi), and not see many now."
Actually I saw none. Looked like I was going to have to walk the 8 sois. Motorbike taxis were available, but if the solution to their problem involved my getting on a motorbike, the two ladies were firmly destined for the monkey house.
I started walking up the beach, gradually coming back to full reality. It took me about one soi to realize that there were a great many people on the walkway -- all of them Thais, young Thais, and their eyes followed me with the same look I see on the Discovery channel as a pride of lions gaze at a solitary zebra.
I quickly moved back across Beach Road and accepted that this walk was going to be a long one. Some time and steps later I heard the familiar "beep, beep" of a song tow driver hoping for a fare. I turned and held out my hand. Settling onto the bench seat, I started looking for soi street signs. Hard to see in the dim lights, and of course, my phone rang one more time to distract me. Pilot again in all but a state of panic.
"I come, I come" (No, not that come -- I'm in a taxi, remember?)
With the phone distraction and a driver who seemed to be in training for a gran prix race driver slot, I suddenly saw Soi 10 flash by. Ugh! Now I have to walk back.
Once I got to Soi 9 and started into the police station, my natural wariness kicked in, and I was not going inside unless I knew exactly where, how, who, etc. It is past 4:24, and I am just going to stroll into the home of the browns? Not.
This time I called Dang. The phone was picked up by Pilot within a millisecond of beginning to ring.
"Hey, I am here. Where do I go?"
"Come inside! Come inside now!"
I walked up to the double doors and entered.
There were four officers behind the counter. Standing in front and almost crying in relief at seeing me were the two Thai ladies.
And I was to pay 400 baht for them.
4 2 4.
I put a 500 baht note on the counter. One of the officers reached over and took it. I was not spoken to, looked at, or acknowledged in any way. I was dismissed as if I was a -- well -- a farang.
4 officers, 2 ladies, 4 hundred baht.
He got out a receipt book and began making entries. Since I did not exist, I moved to the end of the counter and watched a part of the U. S. Open tennis broadcast. Serena Williams was beating that day's lady with an unpronounceable name -- nothing new there.
Finally receipts were given to each lady, and we all but trotted out the door and to freedom. Not a lot was said until we had managed to get to the beach walkway.
In short order they began to tell their story, and quickly let me know they were going to walk me back to my condo to be sure nothing untoward happened. Those lion eyes were still around various spots, so I hardly argued.
As we started to walk, two other ladies joined us. They were all talking excitedly. Something good apparently was said since the two newbys kept saying, "Good farang. Good farang." They walked with us to -- here it comes -- Soi 5.
4 ladies. 2 holding hands with me. Walking 4 blocks.
It seems that the police had set up some sort of major sweep of the beach. This was not just three or four officers strolling along, but rather was a full squad coming north, another of equal size moving south, and a third suddenly being deposited along Beach Road to prevent anyone escaping across the street. Only exit was the bay.
From what I was able to gather, somewhere around 25 ladies and lady boys were scooped up.
One farang thought he would be a hero, and quickly told a lady to stand next to him and be his wife. Not smart. Living example of the old saying that nothing good happens at three o'clock in the morning -- especially to farangs who try to get involved in Thai affairs. He explained to the browns that this was his wife and they were out for a very early morning stroll. In the meantime, another officer had moved his wife away from his side.
"What is your wife's name?" Nothing but a startled look from the farang, and finally. "I do not know."
The same question was being asked in Thai of the wife. Game over.
Bad move. No make that BAD MOVE by the farang. Ladies could get off for 200 baht. Special rate for farangs who decide to play with the browns -- 1000 baht.
Each and every sweepee was made to assemble into either a male or female grouping at the police station. (Lady boys went into the male flock. I asked. Just had to know.) Then they were marched outside of the station by several browns of the same sex, given a vial, and told to urinate into same.
"You went outside and had to pee pee?"
"Yes, all ladies had to pee into tube. Dang and I have no problem. Ours stay clear. If turn purple, go monkey house."
Having long ago disappointed my mother by deciding NOT to become a doctor, I can only guess as to what the purple color indicated, but I would venture that whatever it was, it was probably not legal.
Purple equaled monkey house. Forget the 200 baht, no get out of jail card available.
We eventually made it to the condo neighborhood, and what the hell -- I am now awake, the sky in turning pink in the east. Let's go into Family Mart, grab some food of some sort, a small bag of coffee, powdered coffee cream, and go up and unwind.
Inside, coffee was quickly brewed (Do you "brew" instant coffee??) and the various cakes and breads laid out. As with any high pressure situation once passed, a lot of laughter and conversation quickly flowed -- especially from the two of them.
After a bit, nature progressed to the point that you could call it "day light", Pilot said she was going to go back to the beach. According to her, there is some German guy well into his seventies who wakes up early and often meets her somewhere near Soi 1. He pays her to go back to his place and just sleep with him. What was once a sword is evidently now a wet rope. Ahh, getting old is not full of great promises.
She left with many "Kar poon kahs" which left Dang and I alone, and being a most dear lady, she decided to show her appreciation before going on to her room for some eagerly sought sleep.
After a bit of joint exercise, she was ready to leave. I realized that she probably had no money other than change. I gave her 200 baht and told her to get some food when she woke up.
4 hundred baht in 2 payments 4 a very nice lady. Nahhh, that's a stretch and definitely an indication that it is time to bring this story to a close.
4 2 4. Until tonight, just another number -- but now one that is firmly placed on my ever growing list of reasons for me to say, "Damn, I love this place!"
I am unable to even think of another location where these recent events might occur.....
Yesterday -- no, let's start with last week. It will become evident why this is necessary.
Last week my BKK lady was in town again for some extra money. She has a good job in BKK, speaks Thai, English, Japanese, but still comes to Pattaya for a bit of overtime earnings on many weekends. Great body, unusual face (there is a farang in her ancestry somewhere), and LOVES the camera. When she came to the condo, she had a friend in tow. Hmmmm, unexpected threesome. The add on lady was named Wan.
And now to yesterday. I was going to the computer center for a USB memory drive. As is often the case these days, I was the only passenger on my baht bus. Sitting in the taxi I was completely oblivious to the world. Traffic had come to a stop and I was off somewhere in an old man's mental fog when I realized someone was rubbing my arm. Finally coming back to reality, I jumped and looked behind me. There I saw two lovelies on a motorbike also forced to stop. The back seat rider was the one so softly giving my arm a massage. I smiled and laughed, she did likewise. "Where you go?" she asked.
Had to tell her I was off to the computer store. Just could not make a detour for her charms. However.........
As I was returning from the center, my phone ran. Heavily accented lady said she wanted to come by at 1:00. I thought it was Wan. I had taken some pictures of her during the above mentioned visit, and she had asked me to get prints for her. I had these in the condo. "Okay, 1:00 I meet you in lobby." Discussion continued for a few minutes with all kinds of language difficulties, but meet at one was finally established.
I was almost to the condo when my phone rang again. "I come now?" Told her that famous Pattaya line, "Up to you." She was on the way. I did not want to see her again (one of my few disappointments -- just too hard and jaded.) so went to condo, got pictures, and then down to lobby to wait.
I noticed two young beauties walk in the entrance. Just mentally noted their appeal and figured somebody upstairs was in for a good time. Wan, the photo lady had not yet arrived.
They walked slowly into lobby, finally were in front of me. "I think I call you?" delivered as a question.
Huh?
To wrap this up, I had been talking to them, not the photo lady. All my ingrained western culture warning flags went up. Who were these two? How did they get my number? Why were they calling me? I was relieved to see that no Thai man was lurking in the back ground, but I was more than wary.
I asked them to join me on the sofa -- no way I was going to the condo until I had some of these questions answered. As the very difficult conversation gradually moved along, I tried to find out if they were there just to pick up the pictures of Wan. I opened the package and showed the prints to the closest visitor.
"She say call you." she uttered, but she was pointing to the BKK lady, NOT Wan. "Friend say you like two ladies."
Ahhh, the light bulb finally turns on in my retiree's brain. Turns out BKK had contacted these ladies as a favor to both me and them. A threesome referral! Life is good.
Gentle arm rub from a stranger in a traffic jam, great price on the USB drive, and home delivery of a surprise threesome. All in all a pretty good day in Pattaya. Could this even approach happening anywhere but here......
Damn! I love this place.
Yesterday -- no, let's start with last week. It will become evident why this is necessary.
Last week my BKK lady was in town again for some extra money. She has a good job in BKK, speaks Thai, English, Japanese, but still comes to Pattaya for a bit of overtime earnings on many weekends. Great body, unusual face (there is a farang in her ancestry somewhere), and LOVES the camera. When she came to the condo, she had a friend in tow. Hmmmm, unexpected threesome. The add on lady was named Wan.
And now to yesterday. I was going to the computer center for a USB memory drive. As is often the case these days, I was the only passenger on my baht bus. Sitting in the taxi I was completely oblivious to the world. Traffic had come to a stop and I was off somewhere in an old man's mental fog when I realized someone was rubbing my arm. Finally coming back to reality, I jumped and looked behind me. There I saw two lovelies on a motorbike also forced to stop. The back seat rider was the one so softly giving my arm a massage. I smiled and laughed, she did likewise. "Where you go?" she asked.
Had to tell her I was off to the computer store. Just could not make a detour for her charms. However.........
As I was returning from the center, my phone ran. Heavily accented lady said she wanted to come by at 1:00. I thought it was Wan. I had taken some pictures of her during the above mentioned visit, and she had asked me to get prints for her. I had these in the condo. "Okay, 1:00 I meet you in lobby." Discussion continued for a few minutes with all kinds of language difficulties, but meet at one was finally established.
I was almost to the condo when my phone rang again. "I come now?" Told her that famous Pattaya line, "Up to you." She was on the way. I did not want to see her again (one of my few disappointments -- just too hard and jaded.) so went to condo, got pictures, and then down to lobby to wait.
I noticed two young beauties walk in the entrance. Just mentally noted their appeal and figured somebody upstairs was in for a good time. Wan, the photo lady had not yet arrived.
They walked slowly into lobby, finally were in front of me. "I think I call you?" delivered as a question.
Huh?
To wrap this up, I had been talking to them, not the photo lady. All my ingrained western culture warning flags went up. Who were these two? How did they get my number? Why were they calling me? I was relieved to see that no Thai man was lurking in the back ground, but I was more than wary.
I asked them to join me on the sofa -- no way I was going to the condo until I had some of these questions answered. As the very difficult conversation gradually moved along, I tried to find out if they were there just to pick up the pictures of Wan. I opened the package and showed the prints to the closest visitor.
"She say call you." she uttered, but she was pointing to the BKK lady, NOT Wan. "Friend say you like two ladies."
Ahhh, the light bulb finally turns on in my retiree's brain. Turns out BKK had contacted these ladies as a favor to both me and them. A threesome referral! Life is good.
Gentle arm rub from a stranger in a traffic jam, great price on the USB drive, and home delivery of a surprise threesome. All in all a pretty good day in Pattaya. Could this even approach happening anywhere but here......
Damn! I love this place.
Another chapter from my trip to Lopburi and Ayutthaya, if I may. It was time to bail out of the former, head for the latter. I think I had seen maybe two farangs in Lopburi. Without PBL at my side, I would have been in a world of hurt.
She managed to get us a taxi from the hotel to the train station. I thought we were taking a train for what she called a "not long time" trip. She went up to the ticket window, came back and started looking for another taxi. I still have no idea as to why the change. In the over all scheme of things, really does not matter.
We caught a taxi to the local bus "station", a place where the buses decided to stop. Also at the location was a collection of mini-buses, the large silver gray vans with seating for around ten or twelve.
I merely acted as a porter and rolled our single suitcase along following her wherever she went. I did hear her specifically use the word "Ayutthaya" as she asked for our tickets. Looking to me, she told me the needed amount and the tickets were purchased.
Nice van, relatively new, got a good seat where I could extend my left leg into the aisle, air conditioning worked well, looked like a decent group of people, younger driver, lots of pluses. Have no idea as to what time the van was supposed to leave or if it was a case of go when full, but things moved with un-Thai dispatch, and we were on the road again.
The road out of Lopburi, while in good shape, was basically two lanes. Our driver was determined to be on time, set a new record for the trip, or had a great lay waiting on him in Ayutthaya, or maybe all of the above. He passed with abandon, the hell with on coming traffic. I found myself squirming several times as I watched us going head on into the coming cars, trucks, and buses. On one occasion I actually braced myself against the seat back in front of me and whispered loudly to PBL, "Someone die". The oncoming car hit the shoulder, our driver inched towards the center of the road, and I decided to look at the scenery on the side rather than watching forward.
Eventually we hit a really modern road. No sarcasm, this would match any interstate layout back in the U. S. Three lanes heading in each direction, with a service lane off the main traffic path. Excellent. I could not see the speedometer, but I know we were moving on, really moving on. Was going to be a short trip.
We whipped down the road with only three stops to pick up passengers. Evidentially you either called in a reservation and waited in the designated gazebo, or perhaps you just waited in the same gazebo, and if the driver saw you, you got picked up. Not my system, so not important. I was already on the bus.
As we filled up all available seats, the driver hit new speed levels. I noticed a sign go by on the right with Ayutthaya written in English and an arrow pointing to the right. Since he did not even slow down, figured we would take the next exit. Later a second sign appeared exactly as the first. It disappeared behind us.
Another three minutes or so and I see the third Ayutthaya sign. This one had a U shaped arrow on it. To me, that meant our city is now behind us, and getting more so every second.
Suddenly PBL spoke up loudly so the driver could hear. He did not reply, but I did see him shake his head. Another half minute. PBL spoke up even louder and longer. Couple of other passengers said something. Keep in mind I am the only farang on the bus, all was being said in Thai, so I was nothing more than an observer in the truest sense of the term.
The driver gave an angry sounding reply -- loud and aggressive. Van kept rolling at previous speed.
This time she did not wait 30 seconds. She leaned forward in her seat and was all but shouting at the driver. He shouted back, but kept the pedal to the metal.
Silence.
Probably about two minutes passed. Suddenly I feel the van being braked, fairly hard. We moved into the slow lane, slowing more and more, and then we were on the shoulder, coming to a stop. There is nothing around us. We are in the middle of nowhere, and I was having a bad feeling about what was going to happen.
The driver opened his door and literally jumped out of the van. PBL looked at me and said very calmly, "We go". Huh?!?! Where the hell do we go?? We are on the side of an expressway and there is nothing in sight except rice fields and the traffic zooming by.
Passengers opened the door, looked at the farang with a "so what are you going to do now" look on their faces. I just followed directions and eased out of the van trying not to step on toes as I did so.
The driver walked to the rear, opened the hatch and pointed at the bags stored there. Looked at me, then shrugged his shoulders. I got the hint, got our bag and pulled it off the van. Door was slammed shut.
Now the three of us were standing on the left side of the van. PBL was all but shouting as is the driver. I was able to contribute exactly nothing, nothing at all, to the ongoing discussion. This went on for a full two minutes or so. It ended with her looking around, pointing at the nothingness surrounding us, and the driver pointing at a pedestrian over pass twenty five yards ahead of us. I did not speak Thai, but I knew what was to come.
Ultimately he got back in the van, and had he not had such a load, would have burned rubber as he pulled away from us. Van just did not have that much power.
OK, there we stood beside the highway with our objective a long way behind us, and of course, on the other side of the road. I found my eyes fixed on the overpass.
PBL, in an amazing change of temperament, was immediately back to her calm, easy going self. Would that I could get rid of anger that quickly. "Come, we go" and she started walking towards the only outlet around -- the overpass.
42 steps up -- with the suitcase, 42 steps down with same. I counted. The sun was blistering. Never had I been so happy to have my hat on. Once we got to the other side, I noticed three Thais standing in the shadow of the overpass. Hmmmm, must be a bus stop of some kind -- I hoped with all my heart. Another 50 feet and there was one of the afore mentioned gazebos. Shelter, seats, I rolled the suitcase behind me and headed for those welcome luxuries.
Looking at her, I asked, "What are we going to do now?" as I took another look around. I did not even see buildings. I never felt that we were in danger, we had water (bless her), I could sit and watch traffic go by us at what I would estimate as 80 mph or higher, but that was all we could do.
Her answer, "We catch taxi" seemed more like a prayer than a statement of fact.
Time passed, along with hundreds of cars, buses, trucks, and oddly NO MOTORBIKES -- NOT ONE! (No, I was not suffering from heat stroke, and I had not had a single drink.)
I noticed that PBL stepped out onto the curb and waved her hand a couple of times. I saw nothing even remotely looking like a taxi coming towards us. But again, I was just an observer, and totally dependent upon her to solve our problem.
Suddenly I saw this giant construction type truck pulling to the shoulder and slowing to a stop. This was a massive truck, the Yao Ming of trucks. Laid out exactly as a baht bus, loaded so heavily that a good twenty Thai men were standing in the aisle between the benches. They looked down on us, and I did not see a friendly face among them. Two more to board, along with a suitcase? I really was not eager, and even of more import, I was actually thinking, "I get UP into that thing exactly how?" The bed of the truck was about head high. I would literally have to have been lifted up like overweight baggage. Just not a good situation staring at me.
Again, PBL said something, there was a roar, a cloud of diesel smoke, and the "taxi" rolled back into traffic. I returned to my seat in the gazebo, had some water.
In short order I see a van exactly like the one we just left, pulling to the side. Once the van stopped, the driver got out, came over, quickly talked to PBL. She looked at me, motioned for me to come (I did) and it looked like things were going to work out.
The driver opened the side door. Damn! The van was packed, tightly packed. The Thai eyes looking at me were even less friendly than those of the truck's passengers. I could not have gotten into that van's passenger compartment even if had was thirty pounds less than now. No way.
And then I saw PBL grabbing the suitcase and beginning to squeeze herself on board. The Thais twisted, slid, somehow made way for her. The thought of being by myself was not appealing.
Once he closed the door, the driver stepped in front of me and opened the left side front door, motioning for me to climb in. Only problem was the Thai man already sitting there. Comments were made by the driver and the man slid rightward and onto the engine cover. I do not speak Thai, but I could easily tell he was far from happy with his situation. I got in, tried to give him as much room as possible, and made a mental promise to lose 50 pounds if I survived.
And then it was yet another verse of on the road again, this time headed towards our goal, rather than away from it.
Let me bring this overly long recitation to a close. This van also did not get us to Ayutthaya. Somewhere down the road we got off, and ultimately ended up with two more taxis, one a tuk tuk which I almost fell out of, before getting to a hotel. Of course, all three transports cost more baht, but while PBL was really upset about that, the amount was small enough that I honestly do not remember the total.
Two quick points. After things were settled down and we were relaxing over a drink, PBL filled me in on some of what had happened. Turns out the first driver had simply forgotten us. His excuse was, "I cannot keep up with everything". Once we were too far down the road, it became another issue of, yes, FACE. He was forced to lose such in front of the entire load of passengers, and to lose face with a farang involved really made it bad. Solution? Put us out at a bus stop, forget about going back to the destination we had paid for.
And the second, vastly more important. Back in the states, events such as this would have caused me to erupt in anger. I would have remained in such a state for a good two days. I would have gotten in touch with the president of the bus company, I would have....... You get the idea. Instead, now that I have been here for a year, I really acted as the observer I described. In fact, I was laughing once I got down that overpass (much harder coming down with a suitcase than going up). In the gazebo there was a young kitten, and I ended up playing with it while PBL eyed traffic for our next conveyance. Trust me, such behavior is a 180 degree change in my life.
I am MUCH calmer in LOS than was I in the states. Probably has added years to my life, and for this, I find another reason to tell you that Damn, I love this place.
She managed to get us a taxi from the hotel to the train station. I thought we were taking a train for what she called a "not long time" trip. She went up to the ticket window, came back and started looking for another taxi. I still have no idea as to why the change. In the over all scheme of things, really does not matter.
We caught a taxi to the local bus "station", a place where the buses decided to stop. Also at the location was a collection of mini-buses, the large silver gray vans with seating for around ten or twelve.
I merely acted as a porter and rolled our single suitcase along following her wherever she went. I did hear her specifically use the word "Ayutthaya" as she asked for our tickets. Looking to me, she told me the needed amount and the tickets were purchased.
Nice van, relatively new, got a good seat where I could extend my left leg into the aisle, air conditioning worked well, looked like a decent group of people, younger driver, lots of pluses. Have no idea as to what time the van was supposed to leave or if it was a case of go when full, but things moved with un-Thai dispatch, and we were on the road again.
The road out of Lopburi, while in good shape, was basically two lanes. Our driver was determined to be on time, set a new record for the trip, or had a great lay waiting on him in Ayutthaya, or maybe all of the above. He passed with abandon, the hell with on coming traffic. I found myself squirming several times as I watched us going head on into the coming cars, trucks, and buses. On one occasion I actually braced myself against the seat back in front of me and whispered loudly to PBL, "Someone die". The oncoming car hit the shoulder, our driver inched towards the center of the road, and I decided to look at the scenery on the side rather than watching forward.
Eventually we hit a really modern road. No sarcasm, this would match any interstate layout back in the U. S. Three lanes heading in each direction, with a service lane off the main traffic path. Excellent. I could not see the speedometer, but I know we were moving on, really moving on. Was going to be a short trip.
We whipped down the road with only three stops to pick up passengers. Evidentially you either called in a reservation and waited in the designated gazebo, or perhaps you just waited in the same gazebo, and if the driver saw you, you got picked up. Not my system, so not important. I was already on the bus.
As we filled up all available seats, the driver hit new speed levels. I noticed a sign go by on the right with Ayutthaya written in English and an arrow pointing to the right. Since he did not even slow down, figured we would take the next exit. Later a second sign appeared exactly as the first. It disappeared behind us.
Another three minutes or so and I see the third Ayutthaya sign. This one had a U shaped arrow on it. To me, that meant our city is now behind us, and getting more so every second.
Suddenly PBL spoke up loudly so the driver could hear. He did not reply, but I did see him shake his head. Another half minute. PBL spoke up even louder and longer. Couple of other passengers said something. Keep in mind I am the only farang on the bus, all was being said in Thai, so I was nothing more than an observer in the truest sense of the term.
The driver gave an angry sounding reply -- loud and aggressive. Van kept rolling at previous speed.
This time she did not wait 30 seconds. She leaned forward in her seat and was all but shouting at the driver. He shouted back, but kept the pedal to the metal.
Silence.
Probably about two minutes passed. Suddenly I feel the van being braked, fairly hard. We moved into the slow lane, slowing more and more, and then we were on the shoulder, coming to a stop. There is nothing around us. We are in the middle of nowhere, and I was having a bad feeling about what was going to happen.
The driver opened his door and literally jumped out of the van. PBL looked at me and said very calmly, "We go". Huh?!?! Where the hell do we go?? We are on the side of an expressway and there is nothing in sight except rice fields and the traffic zooming by.
Passengers opened the door, looked at the farang with a "so what are you going to do now" look on their faces. I just followed directions and eased out of the van trying not to step on toes as I did so.
The driver walked to the rear, opened the hatch and pointed at the bags stored there. Looked at me, then shrugged his shoulders. I got the hint, got our bag and pulled it off the van. Door was slammed shut.
Now the three of us were standing on the left side of the van. PBL was all but shouting as is the driver. I was able to contribute exactly nothing, nothing at all, to the ongoing discussion. This went on for a full two minutes or so. It ended with her looking around, pointing at the nothingness surrounding us, and the driver pointing at a pedestrian over pass twenty five yards ahead of us. I did not speak Thai, but I knew what was to come.
Ultimately he got back in the van, and had he not had such a load, would have burned rubber as he pulled away from us. Van just did not have that much power.
OK, there we stood beside the highway with our objective a long way behind us, and of course, on the other side of the road. I found my eyes fixed on the overpass.
PBL, in an amazing change of temperament, was immediately back to her calm, easy going self. Would that I could get rid of anger that quickly. "Come, we go" and she started walking towards the only outlet around -- the overpass.
42 steps up -- with the suitcase, 42 steps down with same. I counted. The sun was blistering. Never had I been so happy to have my hat on. Once we got to the other side, I noticed three Thais standing in the shadow of the overpass. Hmmmm, must be a bus stop of some kind -- I hoped with all my heart. Another 50 feet and there was one of the afore mentioned gazebos. Shelter, seats, I rolled the suitcase behind me and headed for those welcome luxuries.
Looking at her, I asked, "What are we going to do now?" as I took another look around. I did not even see buildings. I never felt that we were in danger, we had water (bless her), I could sit and watch traffic go by us at what I would estimate as 80 mph or higher, but that was all we could do.
Her answer, "We catch taxi" seemed more like a prayer than a statement of fact.
Time passed, along with hundreds of cars, buses, trucks, and oddly NO MOTORBIKES -- NOT ONE! (No, I was not suffering from heat stroke, and I had not had a single drink.)
I noticed that PBL stepped out onto the curb and waved her hand a couple of times. I saw nothing even remotely looking like a taxi coming towards us. But again, I was just an observer, and totally dependent upon her to solve our problem.
Suddenly I saw this giant construction type truck pulling to the shoulder and slowing to a stop. This was a massive truck, the Yao Ming of trucks. Laid out exactly as a baht bus, loaded so heavily that a good twenty Thai men were standing in the aisle between the benches. They looked down on us, and I did not see a friendly face among them. Two more to board, along with a suitcase? I really was not eager, and even of more import, I was actually thinking, "I get UP into that thing exactly how?" The bed of the truck was about head high. I would literally have to have been lifted up like overweight baggage. Just not a good situation staring at me.
Again, PBL said something, there was a roar, a cloud of diesel smoke, and the "taxi" rolled back into traffic. I returned to my seat in the gazebo, had some water.
In short order I see a van exactly like the one we just left, pulling to the side. Once the van stopped, the driver got out, came over, quickly talked to PBL. She looked at me, motioned for me to come (I did) and it looked like things were going to work out.
The driver opened the side door. Damn! The van was packed, tightly packed. The Thai eyes looking at me were even less friendly than those of the truck's passengers. I could not have gotten into that van's passenger compartment even if had was thirty pounds less than now. No way.
And then I saw PBL grabbing the suitcase and beginning to squeeze herself on board. The Thais twisted, slid, somehow made way for her. The thought of being by myself was not appealing.
Once he closed the door, the driver stepped in front of me and opened the left side front door, motioning for me to climb in. Only problem was the Thai man already sitting there. Comments were made by the driver and the man slid rightward and onto the engine cover. I do not speak Thai, but I could easily tell he was far from happy with his situation. I got in, tried to give him as much room as possible, and made a mental promise to lose 50 pounds if I survived.
And then it was yet another verse of on the road again, this time headed towards our goal, rather than away from it.
Let me bring this overly long recitation to a close. This van also did not get us to Ayutthaya. Somewhere down the road we got off, and ultimately ended up with two more taxis, one a tuk tuk which I almost fell out of, before getting to a hotel. Of course, all three transports cost more baht, but while PBL was really upset about that, the amount was small enough that I honestly do not remember the total.
Two quick points. After things were settled down and we were relaxing over a drink, PBL filled me in on some of what had happened. Turns out the first driver had simply forgotten us. His excuse was, "I cannot keep up with everything". Once we were too far down the road, it became another issue of, yes, FACE. He was forced to lose such in front of the entire load of passengers, and to lose face with a farang involved really made it bad. Solution? Put us out at a bus stop, forget about going back to the destination we had paid for.
And the second, vastly more important. Back in the states, events such as this would have caused me to erupt in anger. I would have remained in such a state for a good two days. I would have gotten in touch with the president of the bus company, I would have....... You get the idea. Instead, now that I have been here for a year, I really acted as the observer I described. In fact, I was laughing once I got down that overpass (much harder coming down with a suitcase than going up). In the gazebo there was a young kitten, and I ended up playing with it while PBL eyed traffic for our next conveyance. Trust me, such behavior is a 180 degree change in my life.
I am MUCH calmer in LOS than was I in the states. Probably has added years to my life, and for this, I find another reason to tell you that Damn, I love this place.
Pump Station
In a taxi riding past the Pump Station,
I, “Oh, the Pump Station. I went there my second trip to Thailand.”
Blank look from PBL.
“It is a blow job bar.”
“What blow job?” Look on face told me she was not joking or being coy. The term does not register with her.
I explained. Also told her you could sit and have a drink while you were being taken care of. She thought for a minute, decided I also was not joking.
“I not go.”
End of conversation as she turned looking for our departure point.
Go Go Bars
From talking to PBL and other ladies, I get the impression that many, many of them know of go-gos, of course, but also have no idea of what goes on inside. I have described the various methods of hiding an ice cube several times. Each explanation has resulted in looks of incredulity, then finally laughs of disbelief. Once I told them that I was the chosen farang one night, and my drink was the depository of the somewhat melted cube (really is warm in there), and then the clincher -- that I would not be intimated. I took a large pull from the drink. Their collective mouths fly open, giggles, and much, much excited Thai among themselves. Obvious that they are not sure if I am telling the truth or just winging it.
I asked PBL if she had ever seen the balloon show. Had no idea of what I was talking about.
“Razors?”
“You ting tong.” (crazy).
“Egg?” Face now in full “farang bull shit me” mode.
Silence. She decides I am not BS’ing her.
“You want to go see?”
“I go. You take me? Never see go-go. Cannot believe girl do with pussy.”
Been a long time since I was in one of the bars with the pussy shows. Went to Mongo (who else?) to get exact run down on each and every venue in Pattaya. Maintaining my faith in his being a walking encyclopedia of the Pattaya go-go scene, when I asked him, he started a running commentary without even a second’s pause for thought.
Will report on her reaction once we go see the balloons skillfully popped with the pussy propelled projectiles.
Economics 602: No money, no honey
PBL works in a beer bar. Her bar primarily caters to the English crowd, even has a very English name. Keep this in mind with what follows.
She has the typical poor family’s Thai education. Often she has spoken of how frustrated she is by her lack of education. She has really surprised me with her curiosity and her appetite for reading. She devours magazines of all types and levels, loves books -- there is a mind in there. (Not able to find “Gone with the Wind”, Thai version. Think I will try for “Jaws”.)
I was sitting at the computer checking some email from the kids (Dad, I need money. Same song, different verse) while she was on the sofa watching the Thai soap opera about the airline crew.
Out of the blue, “Top, you okay with money?”
Took me a couple of seconds to fully comprehend what she had just said. No lead in, no preparation, just the loaded question. Where the hell did that come from?
“I have money. What you ask?” My Thanglish has really developed rapidly.
“You okay? Maybe you have problem?”
Ahh, she is talking about my monthly battle with Citibank to get my money transferred to Thailand. “Yes, I okay. Just same same problem every month with bank and money get here.”
“No, not bank problem. Think you maybe have trouble. I can cook, we not go out to eat. Spend money. Can save for you.”
I am back to lost. Whatever is she talking about?
“I have money. No problem. What you mean?”
Looking me straight in eye, “Dollar. Dollar go down. Not good for you. I help you save money. Think dollar big problem. You problem with money.”
I was more than floored. Uneducated by our standards, working around Englishmen, not Yanks, and yet she knows the dollar is going down and IT IS NOT GOOD FOR ME!
Her concern was most appreciated, but at the same time methinks a warning shot has been fired across my bow. No money, no honey. Subtle, ever so subtle, but the message was both delivered and understood.
And a second point. Anyone who tells you it isn’t about the money – either does not live here, or else is a politician.
In a taxi riding past the Pump Station,
I, “Oh, the Pump Station. I went there my second trip to Thailand.”
Blank look from PBL.
“It is a blow job bar.”
“What blow job?” Look on face told me she was not joking or being coy. The term does not register with her.
I explained. Also told her you could sit and have a drink while you were being taken care of. She thought for a minute, decided I also was not joking.
“I not go.”
End of conversation as she turned looking for our departure point.
Go Go Bars
From talking to PBL and other ladies, I get the impression that many, many of them know of go-gos, of course, but also have no idea of what goes on inside. I have described the various methods of hiding an ice cube several times. Each explanation has resulted in looks of incredulity, then finally laughs of disbelief. Once I told them that I was the chosen farang one night, and my drink was the depository of the somewhat melted cube (really is warm in there), and then the clincher -- that I would not be intimated. I took a large pull from the drink. Their collective mouths fly open, giggles, and much, much excited Thai among themselves. Obvious that they are not sure if I am telling the truth or just winging it.
I asked PBL if she had ever seen the balloon show. Had no idea of what I was talking about.
“Razors?”
“You ting tong.” (crazy).
“Egg?” Face now in full “farang bull shit me” mode.
Silence. She decides I am not BS’ing her.
“You want to go see?”
“I go. You take me? Never see go-go. Cannot believe girl do with pussy.”
Been a long time since I was in one of the bars with the pussy shows. Went to Mongo (who else?) to get exact run down on each and every venue in Pattaya. Maintaining my faith in his being a walking encyclopedia of the Pattaya go-go scene, when I asked him, he started a running commentary without even a second’s pause for thought.
Will report on her reaction once we go see the balloons skillfully popped with the pussy propelled projectiles.
Economics 602: No money, no honey
PBL works in a beer bar. Her bar primarily caters to the English crowd, even has a very English name. Keep this in mind with what follows.
She has the typical poor family’s Thai education. Often she has spoken of how frustrated she is by her lack of education. She has really surprised me with her curiosity and her appetite for reading. She devours magazines of all types and levels, loves books -- there is a mind in there. (Not able to find “Gone with the Wind”, Thai version. Think I will try for “Jaws”.)
I was sitting at the computer checking some email from the kids (Dad, I need money. Same song, different verse) while she was on the sofa watching the Thai soap opera about the airline crew.
Out of the blue, “Top, you okay with money?”
Took me a couple of seconds to fully comprehend what she had just said. No lead in, no preparation, just the loaded question. Where the hell did that come from?
“I have money. What you ask?” My Thanglish has really developed rapidly.
“You okay? Maybe you have problem?”
Ahh, she is talking about my monthly battle with Citibank to get my money transferred to Thailand. “Yes, I okay. Just same same problem every month with bank and money get here.”
“No, not bank problem. Think you maybe have trouble. I can cook, we not go out to eat. Spend money. Can save for you.”
I am back to lost. Whatever is she talking about?
“I have money. No problem. What you mean?”
Looking me straight in eye, “Dollar. Dollar go down. Not good for you. I help you save money. Think dollar big problem. You problem with money.”
I was more than floored. Uneducated by our standards, working around Englishmen, not Yanks, and yet she knows the dollar is going down and IT IS NOT GOOD FOR ME!
Her concern was most appreciated, but at the same time methinks a warning shot has been fired across my bow. No money, no honey. Subtle, ever so subtle, but the message was both delivered and understood.
And a second point. Anyone who tells you it isn’t about the money – either does not live here, or else is a politician.
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