The Bangkok Blitz Pt 1

For every cause, there is an indefinite effect. And for every action, there is a plausible reaction.

There aren’t many things in life we can be certain about; sex doesn’t always reach a climax, alarms don’t always wake you up and caffeine isn’t always your best friend.

Yet on the polar spectrum of this, lies the realm of definites. These are things we know that will reciprocate with an exponential – or at least marginal – receipt of gratification. We know that laughing at Whales or throwing a stones at them feels greats, or that mushrooms always goes best with melted cheese. And we all know that partying in Bangkok will always guarantee a great time.

There are many reasons to go to Bangkok. Never opened a bottle in your clubbing repertoire? Go to Bangkok. Never eaten a rat? Try one in Bangkok. Never had a two dollar taxi ride? Get one in Bangkok. There are just so many reasons to go there that if your job was to market tourism in Bangkok, it would be so easy, it would qualify as a social welfare inheritance.

The trip was coined on a blitz of impetus. LB, had over lunch one day informed us of his trip up there to visit a friend, and suggested that we travel up together. In immediate response, I quickly ran my Bangkok marketing campaign through Reznor again, highlighting certain note-worthy aspects which included $40 vodka bottles and an exploitation of the exponentially lower cost of leaving, which would mean we get to spend lavishly and at a fraction of the cost.

If you’ve sat down over coffee with me while I palavered you with tales of decadence, a debaucherous affair with alcohol and carnal intemperance, you will know that I can sell any destination. And that I did. I had coaxed Reznor to commit to a $273 plane ticket, which I assured him was the best deal in town and that the budget flight was probably going to be the worst experience of the entire trip.

I on the other hand would have to battle a bout of jet-lag. I was after all going to be flying after a night of heavy partying to Bangkok to engage and introduce Reznor to the seduction of Bangkok’s nightlife.

A slight delay in the departure, a less than ideal 2 hour flight nap and a very long customs clearance at Suvarnabhumi airport, couldn’t even dampen the long anticipated return for us. LB was still submerged with nonchalance, Reznor was afloat with so much anticipation he was hopping around so much, he only needed fur to qualify as a Gummy bear and I was pressured into ensuring my pitch on Bangkok would not decay into a mere gimmick.

The plan as it was, was that LB would leave with Pearl for Char’s place and would probably join TheScout, Reznor and me on one of the nights for some unbridled madness. And he left, and I knew there and then that LB was no longer the same man that accompanied me on those excursions to Phuket and Taiwan. He had lost his joy of the night. He had gone pussy.

I suggested a limo ride to the hotel as a symbolic broadcasting of our arrival in style. It was a silver BMW 7 series and it felt great to sit in comfort while watching the others huddle together on the back of a tuk –tuk. Yet on hind side, after the erosion of adrenaline of arriving in Sin City, it did seem like a stupid way to blow our cash.

It was at that time, an educational necessity more than it was a luxurious pamper. I was after all going through the intricacies on the clockworks of Bangkok and how to milk it for it’s worth with Reznor, and the first rule I always emphasized, was the absence of a budget; you can’t enjoy if you keep thinking about money.

The limo ride was great because it soaked Reznor right into the role of the budgetless tourist and suddenly from the concierge to the bellboy, everyone was beaming smiles at us as if blowjobs were part of the welcoming service.

We wasted no time, almost as if we had an invisible itinerary to abide by, of which that invisible thread would in finality lead an option of having a bedside companion. It was back to RCA, the golden walkway of the Promise Land (that is Bangkok), the congregation of the beautiful and famous and the familiar site of my dynamite fishing.

Slim, held great memories for me through the years that I’ve been there and it was always the automatic choice to kick start our Bangkok trip. This was largely because of the insanely cheap drinks and hordes of beautiful women who would give me more than just their attention.

Immediately, as we got in escorted by waiters who could smell heavy tippers from a mile, we got into a small debate on where we wanted the table. I was of course rooting for Flix, where they played some semblance of Trance, while the others thought the right investment was at Slim.

TheScout quickly cajoled me with a bottle of Absolut and a Martell. This immediately raised our profile and soon everyone started giving us the eye. We had distinguished ourselves as foreigners immediately because we were buying ‘premium’ drinks when the industry standards there were half priced Johnny Walker Red labels.

I randomly flashed my smile at people who made eye contact with me and soon one of them popped up behind me to say hello, so I offered her a drink for her brash initiative and then proceeded to make small talk with her. She had a distinctively familiar accent, which sounded almost pleasant as a memory. Then I realized,

She was Japanese.

If this was anywhere else, I might have raised her hand and shouted “Bingo! We got a winner!”, waved goodbye to the boys and head off to find the nearest chapel to get married in, but this was Bangkok and my attention to her was solely on premise of nationality and divided equally with that one very hot girl by the bar below and the other one across the table playing snobbish.

We also did meet this group of Singaporean women who were up there in force to celebrate one of their girlfriend’s hen’s night. I immediately gave her my condolences.

Me: “You do realise that it is all going downhill from now on right? But anyway, where’s the groom to be?”
She: “In Phuket!”
Me: “What? Phuket? Oh man, you got the short end of the stick. Have you any idea how crazy his Bachelor’s party is going to be?”
She: “I KNOW!! SHIT!!!”

The girls were a great bunch to hang out around, but TheScout quickly set us back into perspective. We were in Bangkok and hanging out with Singaporean women? That was going to be the dumbest holiday party plan ever, so we bailed and re-introduced ourselves to the locals.

TheScout sent for a 5000baht champagne much against my protest because we were already clearly inebriated. I was no longer sober enough to choose who I wanted to go back with, so I left it to whoever had the greatest interest in me.

I got the hot girl up to our table and the Japanese girl was clearly not too pleased with it. The hot girl was also clearly not too happy that our table had a surplus of women in comparative ratio to men – which is effectively three – and you know how myopic Thai women can be, so she didn’t take to me as much as I hoped she did.

She was hot, and in my opinion, arguably the hottest in the club and on a regular night well deserving of my utmost attention, but I was already drunk and beyond my means to coax, charm and assure anyone of my undying 3 day devotion. And so I auctioned myself to the one that would take me for the asshole I am, and the Japanese jumped on it.

I, of course knew about it when TheScout told me about her confession to him of her interest in me. I, of course knew from the body language and jealousy when I had my arms around someone else. And I of course knew, when she had her tongue in my ear.

Next thing I know we’re heading out of the club to Scratch Dog to continue the partying. And it was this incredibly packed place with shisha and cheap whiskey. I didn’t remember much because we went in a huge group and I wasn’t even really enjoying myself because we were packed into a corner and there wasn’t even any sofa in sight that I could offer to buy over.

What I did remember was that group of guys trying to cock-block us with regards to some girls and they were force feeding them some negative notions on going back with us. On lesser men it might have worked, but not on me, not when the girl was determined to stay over with me.

That itself provided some comedy because here was a girl, whom I just met, trying to convince her friends that she’s going to be perfectly ok spending the night with me, when I could be some potential axe murderer.

She: “You don’t think I’m easy right? Do you?”

This was hilarious to me because she was the 2nd girl in 3 days to say this to me. I don’t know if it’s for self-assurance or for moral checking, but I seriously do not generally judge, nor do I give a fuck. I, on the contrary, applaud people who are direct and can cast that whole virginal façade aside.

We just met 3 hours ago, we have a mutual interest in each other and we are going back together. I cannot find a flaw in that.

I left Reznor to sleep with TheScout, while the Japanese girl, Shio, spent the night with me. Now surely this was going to be laced with so much salacity that censoring it would nullify my purpose to write. Now surely I would re-certify that Japanese ruled the realm of the bedroom. Now surely, I can’t be wrong.

Or could I..