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Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 104

  • Written by Dana
  • October 22nd, 2005
  • 8 min read


LUCKY MAAK

I don't know about you guys but when shopping in the Love Emporiums of Bangkok and Pattaya I am a budget shopper. Now that the ‘girlfriend experience' is gone and the ‘wei experience' is gone and the ‘petite girl with a smile experience' is gone and my new guy innocence is gone; I am just pounding meat. When you combine that with the light switch (God bless Edison) you no longer need to get into a bidding war at stageside to capture the attention of the hi-liner of statuesque proportions and other worldly charms. Just about anything will do. If you want to compete with the 4-4-4 Japanese (four minutes–four inches–four thousand baht) that is your business. If I hear a number higher than 500 baht my eyes start to glaze over like a Pompeii wall painting and my brain starts to wander. Can't be done you say? You are wrong. I never pay more than 500 baht short time and in Pattaya in the off season I pay 300 baht off the boardwalk in the morning and the next morning the girl is smiling at me and waving at me again. But wait, it gets better. She tells her friends that I am a nice man with jai dee. Pretty soon there is a group of smilers and they all know it is only 300 baht. She'd have taken 50 baht from a Thai. There is a well known lounge lizard in the lobby of the Nana that I call '500 baht Walt'. This retired gentleman makes love to beautiful wonderful women with frequency. 500 baht. He is like a god to me. You are paying too much.

And barfines? Forget about it. On my last visit to the Kingdom I only paid one barfine in three weeks. She was an old friend from the Hollywood Strip at the NEP and all we did was Ab Nam. Once the barfines left the cirrus cumulous clouds at 20,000 feet and 500 baht and soared into the either thin stratospheric financial atmosphere at 600 baht I pushed back from the table. Sorry–the value just is not there. In the last couple of years the nightlife scene in Thailand has lost probably 28,000 baht from me in barfines. And I am just a sometime tourist. If I were an expat the amount of lost revenue to bars in barfines would be in the hundreds of thousands of baht. Real money. I barfine old friends and beer bar girls in Pattaya (200 baht) and the odd impulse. But most of my shopping now is done on the street. And I am not the lone ranger. Lots of expats and frequent visitors have pushed back from the 600 baht table.

Once you set your sites low and adopt a new attitude you can sometimes find yourself in some dodgy places and situations. Depending on your point-of-view; life either gets more interesting or more dangerous or more unsatisfactory. I tend to ignore all of these potentialities blinded as I am by the giddy pleasure of saving money. But some memories last longer than other memories. Once I was in a pokey dark expat shithole bar in Chiang Mai. You know the kind of place I am talking about. You are the only one with clean clothes and everyone looks like they are waiting on a casting call for a film about clinical depression and the farang at the pool table has been racking them up 6 nights a week for two years and he still can't play. Well, you never know what is just going to fall out of the sex sky and land on your sex plate. That is where I met a charmer who had only one arm and one leg and one eye and one ear and one breast–she said her name was Lucky Maak. I didn't know what the Maak word meant but I figured I just got lucky. I figured it was a match made in heaven because I had only one ball and one baht and one hour left in a short time hotel. Well, one thing led to another and we . . . no, wait minute–that is not what I want to talk about today. What I want to talk about today is something that rules my life while I am in the Kingdom.

PROLOGUE

"The moon is a silver slipper pouring champagne stars." (Tom Waits)

Sometimes life can be so inexpressively wonderful that for one or two seconds you forget the roiling cauldron of resentment and self-pity and volcanic anger that shreds and immolates your soul. Sometimes all you have to do is look down.


DARK WIDE FEET RULE

Dark wide feet. Dark wide feet man. DARK WIDE FEET RULE (DWFR). You can have those skinny Hi-So Chinese Thai feet shaped like skis if you want. But for me it is dark wide feet. Reason? Simple. Dark wide feet are going to be attached to Isaan women. High cheek bones, incomprehensible border language, wide smiles, perfect white teeth and dentition showing the nutritional gifts of bugs and worms and roadkill and beer, curvey bodies that look like advertisements for fertility rites, jet black hair, small hands and small waists and small pink woman places, and dark smooth skin of such surpassing beauty that when the two of you are in the shower you just sit on the back of the tub and look at her skin as she washes. These Isaan wonders aren't human. They are angels that have been sent down from heaven to give us life. Women so gloriously beautiful and affectingly affectionate, and fabulously feminine, and sexually provocative that they can make the birds fall from the sky and fish jump from the sea.

If I managed to infiltrate a Japanese club with a stage of Chinesy looking palefaces dancing nude I would be amused and the club would be slant-eyed deferential. But if I let my naked Isaan teeruk out of my backpack and she vaulted onto the stage; the fancy shmancy Japanese club would be electrified with wonder and admiration and respect and dick hardening attention. A real woman has taken the stage. You can tell because she has DWF (Dark Wide Feet). I don't even need my traditional man radar on Sukumvit Road in Bangkok when on the hunt for female perfection. All I have to do is walk around with my head down and look at the feet:

1. Big huge hippo callused Nigerian feet slopping over small sandals–no thanks. I like to wash bargirls feet in the shower. But I shouldn't need a wire brush and battery acid.

2. Great long bony white feet with pale blue veins–Russian hookers from Soi 3–no thanks. Anatomical extrapolation will never get you in trouble here. This is not 'exception' land. The whole body is like the feet. Pale and bony and little blue veins. I'd rather sleep alone. Thank Christ I have memories (and magazines).

3. Ordinary looking feet that are super super tan because they have just backpacked through 18 countries–Run, Run For Your Life–it is Israeli woman. She can field strip five different semi-automatic and automatic weapons in the dark. She's tougher than you and she won't be shy telling you (in seven languages).

4. Pudgy little fat feet attached to pear shaped lard bucket bodies–Run, Run For Your Lives–it's a Japanese girl. Her idea of sex talk is to say "No" and she won't do anything that makes her teddy bear backpack bounce.

5. Skinny black feet attached to skinny black ankles and skinny black legs running up to black thunder thighs and black onion asses–it's black mammy time–no thanks. I don't want to get involved with anything where I'm going to need helpers.

6. White feet of absolutely no interesting physical aspect–Run, Run For Your Lives–it is a Western Woman. Her feet are like her opinions. Of no interest.

Nope, none of these feet are going to get my attention or cause the rods and cones in my eyes to even bother processing incoming information. My heart is not going to skip a beat and no artery is going to clamp down in anticipation and no balls are going to go high and tight until: Until . . . . I spot a pair of Dark Wide Feet. Barefoot or in sandals it makes no difference. It is 'pot at the end of the rainbow' time. It is 'X marks the spot' time. We have found the buried treasure. Our prayers have been answered. Life is worth living. There is a God.

Like a French truffle hunting pig on the scent of the prize I lock onto the sight of the Dark Wide Feet. Time tells all and in less time than it takes to think about it I am standing in front of the owner of the feet. A vendor woman selling pants and shirts. Or a woman selling Gelato ice cream. Or a woman selling mystery meat and chicken on a stick. No matter. Follow the feet up and you have to travel to places more wonderful and full of mystery than anything the English explorer Sir Richard Burton saw in Darkest Africa. Feet and legs and hips and the private hidden woman place and waist and breasts and neck and face and eyes and smiles and hair. An Isaan woman. An angel masquerading as a human to give the rest of the world's women a break. No need to rub it in their faces. We are not all dealt the same cards at birth. Some women get Jokers and Jacks and some women get Queens and Aces. Look closely at the Queen. She has dark wide feet. The telltale for the experienced tourist and expat that the motherlode of sexuality and affection and jai dee and femininity and beauty has been found. An Isaan woman. A dark skinned woman with a happy face and a ready smile and a pair of puppies so high they are hitting her under the chin. Dark wide feet man.

DARK WIDE FEET RULE.

Stickman's thoughts:

I an just see it now, Dana on his hands and knees, sucking some girl's toes in a room in the Nana….and the poor Thai girl wondering what the hell was going on, Thais believing feet being the lowest part of the body and all that!