Stickman Readers' Submissions April 17th, 2004

Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 42

Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes 42


He Clinic Bangkok

This may be a minority opinion, but I often think the majority of the bargirls who work at the Nana Plaza (for example) are more attractive and sexier looking in their going- to-work and coming-from-work clothes than they are in the bars. If they were naked in the bars that would not be so, but they are not naked anymore; they are now wearing two piece outfits that look like they are in Elvis Presley movies from the 60's. I guess opinions can differ on this. There may be some men who get turned on by women wearing bee keeper's outfits or deep sea diving suits or spray painters coveralls; but personally, I didn't fly 12,500 miles to see women in bikinis. For me what works is either no clothes or dressed-up sexy clothes. Well, it is mostly not no clothes in the bars now. The girls are wearing two piece outfits. Or they are wearing fancy-shmancy outfits with extra straps and garters and hose and peek-a-boo holes and fringe and beads and bangles. Some of the outfits on the girls at the Angelwitch bar look like they escaped from the Mardi Gras in Rio. I like naked. However, when they dress to go to work and when they dress to go to the disco after work–they dress to KILL. I mean it. They pull out all of the feminine stops and tricks to look like what they are; young, fertile, hormone-filled women who are going through a stage in their lives where they want to get attention from men. If you don't believe me, start to hang out around soi 4 and Sukhimvit Road in the afternoon as the bargirls start to appear out of the woodwork on their way to the Nana Entertainment Plaza. You will see women walking down the street who are sizzling hot. There is a Minimart next to the Nana Plaza that they all go into before they arrive at work. I have never been in that store between the hours of 4-6pm when there wasn't one of these creatures ahead of me at the register that was sucking the breath out of my lungs. You can teach English if you want to, or get a job with the translation dept. of the Bank of Thailand, or work an international contract through your company, or be a tour guide for Australian tourists; me, I would like to retire and work at that Minimart. And about nine hours later, it happens all over again only to a higher degree. Starting around midnight they start to leave the Nana Plaza and head on over to the Angels Disco at the Nana hotel. Same outfits but now they are cranked up. They are getting off work and ready to unwind and maybe have a drink and maybe dance and for sure talk to their friends and maybe pick up a farang. To sit in the lobby chairs of the Nana hotel between 12:30 and 2:30 is to have two of the finest hours of entertainment that a man can have, as the world's sexiest asian women strut on by. Some nights when I am too tired to do anything else I just sit and watch. And I am not the only one. And the girls that didn't end their night at the Angels Disco stopped off at the Minimart again to pick some things up before heading home. So if a couple of years from now you go into the soi 4 Minimart next to the Nana Entertainment Plaza and see an over-educated, urbane, sophisticated, well dressed, worldly farang working the cash register. That's me. And I am happy.


It is amazing sometimes how the tendrils of memory and experience can envelop you and follow you. And it is not always a good thing either. I never used to even think of Thailand–now it seems I can't escape it. The other night I was wallowing in a personal miasma of grinding self-pity and vicious slashing anger; so I decided to treat myself. Now I am a poor man barely clinging to the cliff-face of life with my broken fingernails. So for me a treat is not soaking in the hot tub on my yacht, or yelling at the servants, or buying another Jaguar XJ12 for parts; for me a treat is to buy a can of tuna fish. A can of tuna fish on a bed of rice makes me feel like a Rockefeller–for about 20 minutes. So I go down to the 7-11 here in Boston to get the tuna fish. Well, it seems that some of these fish went to private school and some of these other tunas have trust funds because there were three different and escalating prices on identically sized cans of tuna fish. This is a puzzler. If all of the tuna are the same and all of the cans are the same; why would anyone buy anything other than the cheapest can?! Hey, what do I look like–stupid? So I grab two of the cheapest cans of tuna and start for the register. While waiting to pay for my big treat I happened to notice on the cans that it said Made in Thailand. Now it is suddenly like there is a gusty wind in the 7-11 because I am starting to sway; starting to wonder, starting to lose my nerve. Do I really want to buy a food product from Thailand?

CBD bangkok

Now I know what you guys who are reading this are thinking. You are thinking "Come on Dana! Grab the reigns. Get a grip for Christ's sake! What could possibly be the problem? All they do is catch the fish, kill the fish, and jam the flesh in a can. You were right in the first place in taking the cheapest can. It is all the same. The more expensively priced cans just represent the efforts of marketing and sales people." Well, I had all of the same thoughts. How could the Thais possibly fuck up jamming tuna flesh in a can!? The cheapest price just reflects the currency gap. Then I left the checkout line, walked back to the shelf, and got some more expensive cans of tuna fish from another country. Sorry Thailand–you lost my trust a long time ago.


There's a big dream moaning!
It's a siren's call. . .
She's a sociopathic bargirl.
And she's a real doll.

She's dancing and displaying.
It's a smiler's ball.
She's got you in her sights.
Your backs against the wall.

wonderland clinic

You'll be scuttlin' like a crab,
On the bottom of the sea.
Shouting with your eyes–
Me! Me! Me. . . !

She ain't for sale.
She just takes the money.
You're the one beggin'–
Hoping she'll call you 'Honey'.

Now you're waiting and nervous.
The barfines been paid.
What's taking so long?
You want to get laid.

Out she comes,
Casual and hot.
You're excited.
She is not!

Your wound and nervous–
Expectations too high.
She's cool and calm.
Know's it's a Lie.

In the room at the Nana,
It's good and it ain't.
Some things she'll do,
Some she cain't.

Next night you go
To a different bar.
Maybe these girls will be
What they say they are!

It's the Same Old Same Old.
Kind of a drag!
Time to hit the streets.
Try some slag.

If that don't work,
There's always Manilla.
This looking for love,
It's kind of a Killa. . . !

Stickman says:

I couldn't disagree more with the original piece you wrote. To me, the vast majority of girls working in the farang sector of "the industry" dress horribly. I don't know if you have ever been for a wander through any of Silom, Sathorn or Wireless Roads at lunch time, now those are places where you get some very nicely made up women. But the bargirl uniform of tight jeans and a tacky top doesn't do it for me, I'm afraid. But each to his own. You like it, hey, good for you.

nana plaza