The Phuket Return Pt 6 - The Last Night
Something actually happened on the last night in Phuket last September, which I don't remember why I didn't write about. Here it is,
Following the huge airport debacle with LB, which I believe most of you would have read by now, in which we actually missed the flight by a full 24hrs because LB's infant attempt to be responsible was met with a disastrous setback. He had booked our return flight on Saturday instead of Sunday and we ended up missing the flight.
However, like all seasoned travellers and torch-bearers of optimism, we bounced back from it with nothing more than a hole in the pocket. It was Phuket, the city of vice and we were blessed with an additional night to toast debauchery and get laid.
Immediately after we re-checked in at the hotel, much to the amusement of the hotel staff who were still confused to see us again, we threw our bags and headed straight for the only place we knew that could erase this tragedy. The equation was simple, music + booze = happy Butterfly.
Our steps grew with haste and before I knew it, we were breaking out in skips to the nearest money changer. We had entirely exhausted our reserve of Thai Baht and now depended solely upon our stash of Singapore dollars, and this being Thailand, was more than sufficient to perhaps adopt an elephant.
We headed straight to Banana. It was the nostalgic scene of bodies mashed on the dance floor, the occassional trance tracks and the outstripping female to male ratio. There was only one thing left to do and that was to replicate the foursome fuck fest of the first night.
There was no time for mingling or small talk. The game plan was simple. I was not going to be wasting time standing by the bar, gulping down beer and hoping to be picked up. No. LB had disseminated an enchiridion of 'to do' and I was expected to assimilate myself obediently into it.
For a town that lacked respect for time and where everyday is a weekend, the club was rather lacking in the eligibility pool on a Sunday night. Most of the women who were there were either already hooked onto the Caucasian boys, or looked like they deserved a punch.
We finally settled next to two local women. They were neither good looking or had any merit ascribed to them other than being alone. Which was good, because everyone else looked like they were going to get married in the morning.
LB: "These two can?"
Me: "Let's drink more."
Two drinks down, they are still not looking better, so we decided to talk less and drink faster.
LB: "Are you sure you can do this?"
Me: "Let's go!"
Another round of drinks.
LB: "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to do this you know."
Me: "Let's go!!!"
LB: "Are you sure?"
Me: "LET'S FUCKING GET THIS OVER WITH!"
When I start drinking, everything is a good idea.
LB: "Wait wait... I need to drink some more."
You have to remember that LB almost never drinks voluntarily and for this, he had a perfectly good reason to. For one, the two girls weren't even remotely attactive. One was thin, both were tanned (which I believe is the politically correct word for dark-skin) and they looked like they were working hard towards being a domestic helper. All they needed was a broom and we had ourselves a maid agency.
LB started making small talk with them and I believe the intrusive introductory line was,
"Are you girls working?"
You have to remember that this was Phuket, not Bangkok. The vast majority of local women found in the club are usually working women (which I again believe to be the politically correct term for prostitutes). Sure, there are the ones who legitimately are here for holiday or have day jobs selling umbrellas or slippers, but on a Sunday night, those are few and far between.
Girl: "No, we are on holiday."
LB gives the all clear sign and despite having a bit to drink, I approach cautiously. You see, unlike normal nights, where we hunt the best the place has to offer, what we have now is basically a push selling. It's like forced consumption because there really isn't anyone else to pick. If my Chang beer bottle came with a skirt and a free condom, I would have fuck it instead.
We eventually left the club with them to another club, which had alot more variety, but the only ones who were actively hitting on me were ladyboys. I don't remember why we didn't toggle with chance or tried our luck with the other girls, but we left for home with them in toll almost as soon as we got there.
The great thing was that we made our intentions to have a foursome clear to them and they responded with enough interest to entirely blind me from picking anyone else up. Remember, I was already well intoxicated and focused on the thought of being boob slapped by two girls. I cannot think logically or question the conservatism of society or even wonder why would any two random girls be so opened to the idea of a foursome with two complete strangers.
There were signs littered throughout which beared warnings of another debacle that was going to ensue in the bedroom. But I didn't care.
Sign #1 :
We took a cab ride back to their home. Yes, their HOME. If you hadn't noticed the slight inconsistency here, then let me remind you again that they said they were here on HOLIDAY.
Perhaps it's common for Thai folks to buy a house everytime they go on a holiday, but generally this would have triggered warning signals. I was however, too absorbed in alcohol and fantasy and LB probably doesn't think well with an erection either, so we ignored it completely.
Sign #2 :
Instead of fucking at their place, they insisted on doing it at ours and brought their clothes over. This was actually a good idea because their place stank, like the aftermath of a blanket bukkake orgy.
When we finally got to our place, LB got abit more reserved and suggested that I took a shower with my girl first, while he formulated some other grand master plan of perhaps on how to get them to cover their faces during sex.
And so I plunged, into a bath, which I would rather had not taken but a blowjob was a sure way to coax me into it. When I got out, LB was still fully clothed in bed and his chick ran into the toilet because she wanted to take a dump.
LB: [in Mandarin] "I think something is wrong."
Me: "Like what? Are they men? Mine isn't."
LB: "I think need to pay..."
LB immediately turned his focus to my girl.
LB: "Need to pay?"
LB: "Are you sure don't need to pay?"
LB: "So need to pay anot?!"
Girl: "I don't know, you ask my friend."
At that very juncture, like an ill fated timing, his girl came right out.
LB: "I ask you. Need to pay?"
ShitGirl: "Yes, of cos.."
I don't know what the current world record for long jump is, but I broke it. I immediately leapt onto the bed from where I stood and tucked my head beneath the pillow, while belting out my disapproval in the new Grammy song of the year, called,
Me: "GET OUT!! GET OUT!! I'M NOT PAYING!! I'M NOT PAYING!!"
This was the catchiest song of the evening, because LB started singing along to it and the girls started to come in for the bridge with,
Girls: "2000 Baht! 2000 Baht!"
It was a symphony of chaos. Pandemonia at it's peak. Occasionally LB would come in for the verse with,
"Are you crazy?! We are not paying!"
Then we'll slip back into synchoronized chorus of, "Get out! Get Out!".
At this point, they had entirely stopped on the price and was shouting profanities in Thai to us. This was a good thing, because we didn't understand a fuck they were saying or neither was I interested to hear their grievances. I just took it that they were shouting their apologies to us or that it was their culture to be saying goodbye, by yelling at us. And maybe they wave using their middle finger too.
ShitGirl: "Okay okay. 700 Baht one person."
Me: "Are you deaf? I said I don't want to pay."
ShitGirl: "Okay, 500 Baht."
In case you are not familiar with the currency exchange, SGD1 = 22 Baht. So a fouresome would have set us back under $25 and this is the kind of money you spend just to pay to get into the clubs and pray you get lucky in Singapore. If my economics lesson taught me anything, it was that this was deal you should seal in an instant. What did we do?
We yelled at them to leave.
My girl started shouting at me again, then suddenly stormed into the bathroom and emerged holding a toothbrush, while continuing her barrage of yelling, which now sounded like an annoying horse-racing commentary in a foreign language.
LB: "Dude, is that your toothbrush?"
Me: "..I think so.."
LB: "She is stealing your toothbrush?"
We both lay there motionless as they stood there yelling at us with my toothbrush. Then it hit me. Was she taking that as payment for blowing me? Is she going to take the television too? Where is my wallet? Can I wrestle her back for it? When are they going to leave? Did they just say 'Fuck'?
Then it all ended. They stormed right out and as with all dramatic finishing, slammed the door in their wake. And there was peace once again.
We both broke out in uncontrollable laughter at the whole debacle. And once the spasms stopped and I was well capable of walking again, I quickly ran into the bathroom.
Me: "Dude! My toothbrush is still here. She didn't take it! She didn't take it! HAHAHA!"
I don't think I have been any happier to see my toothbrush. It's funny how the aftermath of a faceoff with adversity allows us to find true happiness in even the simplest of things.