Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 16
Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes 16
Sometimes you can have a little too much fun in Thailand. I've come to this part of Thailand as part of a personal obligatory to see as much of the country as possible. I'm in what the farang Thailand guide books call the Far South, a place so remote that no one has told them yet that shadow puppets are boring. The local non-indigenous part of the population has been a little spooky and the needle has not exactly been peaking on the fun-meter. I've seen enough turban heads and dot heads and scarf heads to last a lifetime. I thought I was done with that when I left Saudi Arabia in the 70's. But now my nostrils are flaring. I can smell it. My future. I'm like a dog on the scent of a meat wagon. This hotel is teasing me and I'm ready. I'm checking into an old hotel. It is huge and the proportions are huge. Big mouldings, and big doors, and big rooms, and big light fixtures and high ceilings. It is like one of those hotels that you might have in an old backwater European capital. When big shouted class. My hand starts to shake as I sign in. I wonder if I'll be shopping for a ladder today? I wonder if I'll add this hotel's name to the special list.
While the room porter is turning things on and off I notice that the room ceilings are high. As soon as he leaves, I rush into the bathroom and look up. JACKPOT. High ceilings. The shower nozzle comes out of the wall and it is higher than normal. EUREKA. As soon as I unpack, I make a list of things I need and I am off. An hour later I am back. I have purchased a hand drill and drill bit, some cheap large diameter cotton rope, two self-tapping eye bolts, some big natural sponges, some large diameter plastic aquarium hose, and a small folding aluminium step ladder. I put the ladder in the bathtub, climb up and install the eyebolts in the ceiling. The holding power isn't that great in the drywall but they'll probably last for one session. I'll take the eyebolts with me when I leave and use toothpaste to plug the holes. I cut two three foot pieces of rope and tied them to the eyebolts.
Now I need a woman. About four feet tall. (Why would you want a woman taller than you? – Stick) I look and look and they are all too tall. Then next day I spot a Malay wonder cruising. She is dark, cute, and a giggler. Her name is Lon. Stick a fork in me–I'm done. She is the right size but I don't know if she will want to play. Between the time that I let her into the room and the time it takes to put the slide lock in place, she is already naked on her back with her legs in the air. Normally, I would be all over this but I have something else in mind. She sees me hesitate so she flips over onto all fours and starts waving her rear at me. Again, normally I wouldn't have to be asked twice. But I have other ideas. I take her hand and take her into the bathroom. I point to her and I point to the stepladder in the tub. I make her put her hands up over her head. I point to the ropes. I pantomime tying the ropes around her wrists. I pick up the big sponge and pretend I am washing her all over. This is what I want. I want her to climb up on the stepladder, let me tie her wrists so that her arms are up, and then I am going to spend an hour just washing her and worshiping her. I love women. And I love to love women. I think they are deserving of worship. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to tie a woman up in the shower stall and just spend an hour washing and worshiping her. This almost never works in Thailand however. Thailand is supposed to be a great place for sex. What a joke. In Thailand the women are mostly sexually inept or sexually disinterested. What they really want to do is talk on their cell phones and make babies. Sex isn't even on the list. Just like everywhere else. And the shower and the bath are seen as hygienic devices only. Shower games and bath games never occur to the average bar girl. So usually when I pantomime what I want, I get looks of complete incomprehension followed by the furrowed brow of the frightened farmer's daughter. But this time it is different. I have hit the lottery. Lon doesn't have to have it explained twice and she doesn't have to be sold on the idea. Some Dane or German or Estonian, or Japanese, or Muslim has gotten there before me. Fine. You can have the virgins. I'll take experience. She jumps over the side of the tub and climbs to the top of the ladder and puts her little arms up. Her dark eyes are laughing and bright. I climb up with her and start tying her wrists to the ropes. Then it starts. For the next half hour I wash her and wash her and wash her and worship her and gurgle and babble like a baby. I have the clear plastic hose over the end of the sink faucet and water constantly running into one of the waste baskets. When the basket is full, I pick it up and hurl the water at her as hard as I can. The bathroom is a wreck. There is an inch of water on the floor. Slippery soap is everywhere and the two of us are laughing so hard we are almost out of our minds. Peals of laughter are coming from her. I'm sure the maids at the end of the hall can hear us and I'm sure people in the elevator can hear us. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
Finally, she signals that her arms are tired. So I climb up onto the top of the little aluminium ladder to untie her wrists. She is wiggly and squirmy and silly and covered with soap. It is like battling with an eel. Suddenly, she loses her footing and shoots right off the ladder. The eyebolts in the ceiling pull out and the three of us, Lon and I and the ladder, end up in a pile in the tub. Lon is OK and bounces right out. But the metal ladder hinge has opened and closed on my scrotum sack. The hinge has locked. The pain is like someone shoving ice picks in the tops of my eye sockets. My little Malay honey bunny thinks this is the funniest thing that she has ever seen. Peals of uncontrollable laughter. Meanwhile I am doubled over in the foetal position trying to get my nut sack skin out of the hinge. Nothing works. There is a little rivulet of blood running down my leg. Lon is laughing so hard she is having trouble getting her breath. Then she runs out of the bathroom. I think she has gone to call the hotel front desk, or a doctor, or maybe the police. I am going to have to answer the door to the room and talk to some Thai official while an aluminium ladder is hanging on my balls. I know about 50 Thai words and phrases but none of those words or phrases include the words nut sack and ladder hinge. But it is none of these horrors. She just ran out to get her cell phone. Now she is back and looking at me and dialling the phone. She is talking and pointing and naked and laughing so hard she's blowing snot out of her nose. I return my attention to the problem of the metal embrace. I like a little attention from interested parties down there but this is not something that was on my 'to do' list for the day. Meanwhile, more excited machinegun talking on the phone accompanied by wheezing, gasping, and peals of laughter. All of a sudden she loses control of her bladder. She is too short to go in the sink and the toilet seat cover is covered with her stuff; so she just steps forward. The next thing I know I am drilled in the back by a hot stream of hooker urine. Peals of laughter.
At that moment she was probably the single happiest human on the face of the Earth. She had been washed and worshiped by a man, she was going to get paid without having to have sex, she had a story that would give her 'face' for at least a week, and she was pissing on a farang. So sometimes you can have a little too much fun in Thailand. Ah. . . . . . What am I talking about?! You can never have too much fun in Thailand. So if you are in a large department store, and you see a farang in the Housewares Dept. looking at stepladders; that's me. Say hello.
My God, you do get yourself into some odd situations.