Readers' Submissions

My Time In Thailand So Far, Part 3

  • Written by Stick
  • August 2nd, 2004
  • 10 min read

Anonymous submission


Ever gotten bored with incredible, sensational lovemaking? Me neither. You seem to find huge reserves of energy and enthusiasm when indulging in it with an endearing, beautiful nymphomaniac fuelled on kerosene and ambition. It does have to end somewhere, right?

As I sat in the 747, analogy over, on the tarmac at Don Muang on the way back to Farangland, my shattered body gave in to a wave of tearful, but silent sobbing for a full 10 minutes as we taxied into the queue to takeoff. This had easily been the best holiday of my life so far and it was incredibly difficult to find a way to explain how I was feeling. Regretful? No way. Enriched? Yes, definitely. I don’t want to go. The guys had kindly forewarned me of the most severe depression and wanking compulsion that you suffer from when you get back home. The 220 pound (weight not price) female cushion sat next to me in economy helped alleviate the former and deterred the latter for now, so I popped a couple of blue sleepers and escaped to oblivion, snuggled up to her ample form. Yes, even the fat farangs come in handy.

Anyhow, we rapidly booked the return trip for the start of December and this time I was going to do it ‘My Way’. A few semi-coherent letters and emails from LOI (good efforts though), a parcel containing my inadvertently forgotten Thai books and tapes were delivered. SMS messages and phone calls had hinted that I had made a somewhat positive impression. Still, with a determined demeanour to keep my sanity intact from the inherent dangers of holiday romance syndrome, I set off alone, a month in advance of our original booking, unable to resist the constant beckoning. The lads would join me in about four weeks. The junkies from back home were still on the hunt for me, see part 1, but I had, before my last return, purchased an effective deterrent to a severe stabbing, in the form of a telescopic cosh, found outside Beach Road’s ‘Assassins Unlimited’ accessories shop, Pattaya. Try buying that in Wal-Mart or Sainsbury’s from your own home town without the blink of an eye from the cutie on the counter. I’m a little sceptical of this attempt by the Thai government to empower the people to take up the struggle against endemic narcotic use.

Waiting eagerly in departures via Amsterdam for the impending announcement of my flight to BKK, my name is read out over the loudspeaker to come back to the check-in desk. No panic, I’m legal and respectable. I am introduced to a previously unmet friend of a mutual friend and we proceed to get smashed on the plane, me sitting in between my new pals, a P.E. Instructor who worked in a prison, and a diminutive lad from the North of England, and we all share a surprisingly brief taxi drive down to Pattaya. No messing about with these chaps. We are dropped off right outside Jimmy’s (aka Sotheby’s) Bar in Soi 6, suitcases and all, to experience my very first short time gig. When you have just travelled 6,000 miles on an aeroplane and have had a trolley load to drink on the way, I can assure you it is quite easy to become mesmerised by seductive ear blowing from a nubile vision of loveliness while she grapples with your zipper. Hang on, I’ve just sat down and we haven’t been properly introduced yet !?! So what, that simply does not enter the equation here in this town. She then proceeds to demonstrate her Soi 6 qualifications, the unique skill of being able to suck your d**k just to the point of no return, whilst you chat unobtrusively to your friends, enjoying your vodka nam som and smoking your own cigarette, in full view of anyone who cared to look, but no one thought it unusual, except me. The lady and I hadn’t exchanged a single word until she craned her neck up from down below and said “You come my mouth, short time room?” 1 nanosecond later: “Sold to the gentleman in the Trilby” quicker than Ben Johnson on Ya Baa. Lugging the heavily laden suitcase up the stairs was tricky. Keeping an eye on it from the shower room was trickier. The rest was predictable. Meet Soi 6 Dude. I’ve only just arrived. I’ll skip a week of this submission now because outright, and out of vogue, maniac reports are well covered by many of Stick’s readers on this site already.

I eventually called Gee, whom I had promised to meet a week ago. She answered the phone instantly and walked into the Soi 2 bar complex a few minutes later, looking delectable, as ever. Is there a word to describe someone who even fully clothed, walks around as if her gogo pole was missing, and looks ready for her turn at the next change of music? She makes you melt at her visible presence? That’s her. She had coincidentally been in Big C, browsing on her own at the time of my call, and I was in the pub, a highly recommended arrangement for all you shopping lovers out there, so we exchanged our compliments and over a few drinks we planned a trip to Ko Samet. This Surin lady and I hadn’t ventured beyond the realms of Jomtien so far (Nov ’03).

Fast forward to the week of 18 July ‘04:

Gee is the girl I mention above. Ning is her room mate. Mot is her best pal. I was on a Sunday trip to my mate’s newly acquired pub a few miles away from home where there was no signal on the mobile phone, enjoying the relative peace and quiet, winning several drinks at pool and generally having a pleasant time of it all for a few hours. We left the premises and my mate’s wife soberly drove us back along the road heading to the local boozer but when normal mobile network coverage resumed the phone started buzzing and beeping like crazy. 3 missed call alerts and 2 SMS messages seemed a bit unusual for a Sunday afternoon.

3 missed calls, all from Mot, Gee’s best pal, whom I knew from a second trip to Ko Samet.
Message 1, Gee: Please. David call me now! Gee. (who had been using Mot’s phone for a while)

Message 2, Mot: Please. David call me now! Gee is in monkey house! Big problems!
While I am digesting this the phone rings, and it is Ning. She tells me the same. Gee is in the monkey house. She has been tested positively for taking Ya Baa and has to pay 10,000 baht or stay in the monkey house for 6 months. They don’t have a bean between them to raise the fine or get her out of jail and ‘Can I help?’ is her final shout before the signal is lost again.

Message 3, Mot: Please answer me.

This was shortly followed up by a phone call from Mot who hit me with the same story about Gee being in the monkey house but this time Gee was supposedly caught gambling at cards, rather than on the smokes? and the fine was 15,000 baht. Unfortunately, cynicism comes naturally to me now so I was hearing 10K, 15K, Ya Baa and cards from different ‘friends’ both of whom were looking to me for a bail out. Gee apparently didn’t have her own phone any more, She had to pawn it because she didn’t like being on the game and was skint. Ning was an unknown to me apart from a comment that that ‘She speak bad about me’ from Gee. Mot was an intuitively clever, but naïve girl if that makes sense? But well capable of scamming thousands of baht from idiots who believed she was back with Ma and Pa in the country in Surin somewhere. She sniggered silently while on the phone to her German ‘boyfriend’ asking for another 20K to be deposited at the Western Union, all of this openly in front of me and her best mate who didn’t seem too impressed.

I have reasonable Thailand experience under my belt at this stage having spent 5 months so far in the LOI. I’ve not been scammed too badly yet but have read about all of the scams and trickery to extract as many baht as a possible from the farangs by whichever devious means possible, and needed a bit of time to figure out whether or not I was going to be the latest target. The SMS messages kept flowing. At this point I took some time to consider what was happening here.

10K is not a lot to save someone from endless buggery and watery rice in the Bangkok Hilton, even if she was mad enough to take the crazy medicine (Ya Baa) stuff in the first place. Does this 6 month prison sentence or 10K/15K baht fine seem realistic for this offence? Probably, looking at the 99 years a young Brit was handed recently for mueling ecstasy tablets into Don Muang. You hear about the bars being raided and lights on, music off then doors closed while everyone pisses into the testing receptacle to await their fate. I am a million miles away from helping out and quite frankly I start becoming ambivalent about the whole thing since the suspicion of a scam has started to sink farther into my thoughts. Why worry? Get some independent consultancy from the people who should know the score, and to a man, the advice was the same. Tell her to fuck off and forget it!
Message 1, from Me to the supportive ladies: “Pom chalaat. Mai tuuk look ngaai. Fuck off.”
Supposed to mean, ‘I clever, not gullible…Fuck off!’

By this time the lady in question had supposedly been moved to the big monkey house in Kong Kaeng and was in dire straits. ‘You know monkey house in Thailand? She dead!’ was the latest SMS from Mot. Talk about pulling the heart strings or what! This has either been a sophisticated, determined and expensive effort (not many will spend 2 baht to call overseas) to scam me or I am badly mistaken. The Department of Corrections website is a joke, don’t even go there, but I eventually find the jail number and am given a mobile number to reach Gee. This in itself is somewhat disconcerting. I have never spent time inside but cannot imagine any Governmental Institution providing phone access to their inmates via mobile phone. I speak to someone who sounds official given my limited Thai understanding and I am handed over to her. She is stressed in voice tone and obviously not comfortable in her current situation and the phone is taken from her before we can finish our conversation. She’s banged up without a thread of help from anybody but me and her mate. Oops. Plan B!

Realisation starts to dawn on me that this is probably something that I should reconsider. Get them to fax me with something concrete to prove she is really in the monkey house… 15 minutes later it appeared with the D.o.Corrections. logo at the top of the letter and I can read enough to make out her name, location and the amount of the fine. I have fucked up big time, now knowing that I have abused her and her friends and need to make reparations as all respectable men do!

I am humane enough, as most of you are, to get my shit out of the bag and send the fine to her pal through the Western Union. It makes you feel a bit better having realised that not all of them are up to no good. There is nothing wrong with a healthy dose of scepticism but sometimes it’s worth paying due diligence to the sometimes confusing facts presented to you. I am glad I took the time to figure out whether or not I was not taken for a sucker. If she takes the Ya Baa again that’s up to her. Not my problem any more. My healthy conscience prevails and she is forever thankful. Lesson learned. Maybe?


Stickman's thoughts:

So that is why that girl wanted me to knock up the Department of Corrections logo for her in Photoshop….just kidding!