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Incountry #6



I have always been fond of edged instruments. Growing up on a sailboat in the Great Lakes and the Gulf of Mexico dad provided me with a sailing knife at a very young age with the instructions to always keep it razor sharp. He said it might save my life one day.

I trusted my father in most things and in this he was right. It had a carbon steel blade on one side and a marlin spike on the other side and hung from a lanyard at my side for most of my childhood and teen years. Sailing knives don’t have points. I think that is from the old days when the captain was afraid a knife might be used for a weapon so the point of the knife was removed by plunging it into the mast and pushing until the point broke off.

I was 16 years of age when a freak squall caught us with a large spinnaker up and the force of the wind jammed the halyard and made lowering the sail impossible. I climbed the 60 feet to the top of the mast and cut it loose a few seconds before we would have been dismasted in the Gulf of Mexico a 100 miles off the coast of Florida. The blade had sliced through the heavy halyard and wire core like butter.

Later when I took up fencing in college I was always dismayed that I could not put a good cutting edge on my foil.

The restaurant business that has occupied so much of my life was always serviced by the Cozzini brothers, knife sharpeners. I don’t want to imply that the Cozzini brothers were/are mob but in the 30 years that I used their knife sharpening services they never had an employee quit or set up a competing business. But they were rough on blades and for my own personal chef’s knives I normally used a seven stone system much like Japanese sword polishers. It was this kind of care that also went into keeping my personal pocket knife sharp.

I carry a lock out 4 inch blade Swiss army knife. So many places now one has to surrender pocket knives (courthouses airports and the like) I have found that the familiar red color and Swiss cross on the blade seems to not to arouse suspicions of thinking I am a hit man or terrorist. Although with a little examination it is easy to see the lock out button and the curved indented handle that make the knife suitable for self defense among other things
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I have a confession to make. When I first came to Thailand I tipped too much. I am in the restaurant and club business and I suppose because I know how hard people in that business work I have a tendency to tip more than the Average American. For excellent service I drop about 25%. In addition to that upon my first arrival here after a 30 year absence I was so happy to be back in Thailand and the people were so damned nice to me I got carried away even more than normal.

At a couple of clubs I ordered in dinner for the band and wait staff and brought a case of 100 Pipers Whiskey a couple of times. This of course gave me roughly the equivalent status as the Pope in the Vatican.

Since then I have calmed down and rarely go to clubs. That’s not quite true but for the purposes of this story it sounds good.

I must admit I still travel with at least two women wherever I go. I find Thai women are much like potato chips I can never stop with just one. And it gives the girls someone to talk to while I am gawking at all the other beautiful women in the venue. Please don’t misunderstand. That does not mean that I am screwing the two women although that is certainly a possibility, in reality I am just traveling with them.

Thai night clubs turn me on. Especially if there are a few Farangs to give the comic some grist for his or her humor and if there are some drunk Japanese guys and a couple of fat Dutchmen then I know it is going to be a really good night.

It used to freak me out when the drunk Thai men would want to dance with me or continually want to shake my hand but I have gotten used to being kind of an oddity.

The Princess and Mem respectively my bodyguard and masseuse got the craving last week to go dancing.

I try and keep kind of a low profile with both of them because I have this impression that Thai women would rather have a relatively straight laced Farang rather than a lecherous pervert.

Princess does have a friend, Mae who likes lecherous perverts and also taught the Princess that a sandwich was not always something that came on bread. I like Mae and I appreciate her taking time out of her busy schedule (one husband and three boyfriends (all Farang) to share some quality time with the Princess and I at least once a month. Mae also has the only tattoo that ever made sense to me. She had her stretch marks incorporated into a tribal design on her stomach. So for the most part except for me showing them porn movies that I acted in to get a particular move right I am very conservative.

I also find that it helps not to have the reputation as a big spender for obvious reasons.
I think I read on Stick’s site never tell a Thai woman (or any woman for that matter) how much money you have. This is wonderful advice and any time I have not followed it I wished I did. But there are times when your past catches up with you.

I convinced Mem to leave her car at home so she could drink (not that Mem minds driving drunk, she is a Thai after all but I mind her driving drunk cause it scares the shit out of me) so we set off in a Tuk Tuk to the club they had picked out.

The place looked vaguely familiar to me but we could not get very close to the front door because it was packed with people waiting to get in. You could hear the music from the outside and it sounded good to me if a little base heavy.

We cued up and waited in line. I am wondering if the wait is going to be worth it when I hear KEEEEEY IEEEEE!!!!! KEELEEEY!!!! I am surrounded in a sea of short brown arms and carried over the crowd like something out of a mosh pit with the Princess and Mem franticly running behind me. The Princess is good in crowds a lot of knee and elbow action.

You guessed it, this was the place that I had tipped with the cases of 100 Pipers and bought the band dinner.

Four unlucky Thai men had my favorite table and they were promptly moved so I had to buy them a round of drinks.

By the time Mem and Princess arrive at the table I am equipped with four quarts of Kloster in an iced bucket and am having a Papal moment with the band and the table of Japanese guys think the a King has arrived.

I am doing my best “my poot pasa Thi, my cow jai, My lou routine.” (I don’t have a clue) I have discovered over time to order margaritas when I don’t know what to say and both Mem and Princess down two before resuming asking me questions about my Pope status and why are all these people smiling at me.

Thank God the band starts up playing again. I have not figured out why Thai disco’s don’t have dance floors. But its cool with me because I think I look a lot better dancing between two women and a table anyway.

Before I can catch my breath from La Bamba two more Margaritas are gone and princess begins to scope out the competition. Mem is dancing like a cheerleader at a Chicago Bulls game hands and feet everywhere jumping up and down. She is sweet but not very coordinated.

Buddha has however seen fit to give Princess some special gifts. She ain’t pretty but she’s got a knockout punch and she sure can dance. Princess looks around the room and realizes she may be the oldest woman in attendance. That doesn’t phase her because that has happened before. Dancing now, she is into the Bangkok shuffle one foot forward one foot back and repeat, her arms making like a choo choo train.

She squints her eyes and checks by the flashes of a dozen strobe lights there are no other professional dancers there. I can see her mouth smirk.

The drummer has 18 microphones next to his drums. And he turns them all on and the base begins to vibrate my armpit hairs.

Princess is now starting to pump her arms faster. And I try and follow her eyes.
Oh my, she has seen the poles. Now I realize I have to tip the band before the Princess gets her groove on.

I am so glad I took those Thai language lessons. I tell the band my girlfriend is crazy but she won’t kill anybody and just go with the flow and that wonderful expression My Pen Rai and 1000 Baht takes care of the evening.

Now quick, find the manager. Damn, I am glad I bought those cases of whiskey.
Mem is oblivious to the situation because she has never seen the Princess in action, I don’t think she has ever seen a stripper.

Oh well this night will be an eye opener for her.

I still have a chance though. If they don’t start playing Thai Folk Music maybe princess will just calm down. I order another round of margaritas. Telling myself, check everything stay calm the pink scrunchy holding her hair is still in place. So far so good. She hasn’t unzipped her jeans yet, OK. Hasn’t rolled up her pants legs, maybe this is going to work out after all. I am starting to relax. Have another Kloster and relax, Kelly the night is going fine.

The band is even better than I remembered and the two girl lead singers have taken to wearing less clothes. Thongs even and the thongs look great. I take a breath and head for the rest room.

There is a change in the crowd noise. I can hear it in the toilet and as much as I want to head back to the club floor I just have to finish in the toilet.

Oh, oh there it is, Jin Ta La. Thai Folk Rock. There is applause. Oh God. Princess has vaulted up on stage and is standing in the corner one pants leg rolled up and the zipper of her jeans half down and her ass length hair flying in the breeze as she gets her groove on.

The band has stopped except for the drummer. Now for any women reading this if you are not the prettiest chic on the planet remember the Princess.

I watch the eyes of the crowd. She has got them focused on her naked calf, her unzipped fly and her waist length hair.

The Bangkok shuffle is but a memory. This is a razor sharp hard as nails Patpong Pro. She will shake you and bake you and slit your throat for a dime and you will die a happy man.

The Princess learned to dance in places where bullets were as frequent as drum beats (I looked at her passport). She earned every bump and every grind the hard way. She knows how to work a crowd.

The crowd is clapping. A Japanese guy gets up and tries to tip her. She grabs the cash and kicks him in the chest and he liked it as he rolled back to his seat and broke the chair he landed on. Ya, she’s a pro.

I try and not look. She is giving me that hand signal like she wants money but I know that’s not it. She wants my Swiss army knife.

Oh well, there goes another pair of jeans. I give her the knife.

She can handle a knife and the guy on the spot light hit’s the blade as she slices her left jean leg open to the waist. Damn that knife is sharp. Just like daddy told me, always keep it sharp. And then she whips the knife into the top of a Peavey speaker.

Her chest is struggling. It looks like her bra is having a battle with her body. Big breast and surprisingly perky for a 32 year old Thai lady.

The base player has now joined the drummer and I think I am watching a porn movie being made. The guys in the crowd are starting to get hot. The women in the crowd are starting to smell the guy phernomes and they are getting randy.

They all see her eyes on the pole. The pole is like her nirvana. She is a pole whore. She likes the pole and the pole likes her. The lead guitar starts to whack out the high tones. And her hips start to pump. Everyone in the room knows what I know every night. She takes a flying leap like a runner sliding head first into home she snags the pole and in one fluid motion snakes up the pole and off goes the sequined purple City Woo top. I don’t know what the hell City Woo means but that was on the shirt I bought her at the night bazaar.

Now the girls come back out on stage and start singing.
Princess is being a good girl and keeping her pants and bra on for the time being as she works the pole while the girls sing.

I get two songs to relax. Before the crowd can’t take it any more and they all stand up and start stomping the floor.

She throws her hair in her face and hangs her head in rhythm with the beat, turns around and rips off what remains of her jeans and purple panties.

She has a hijacker butt which is a reference to an automotive suspension system.
By now the band is dancing around the pole.

She has got them begging to see her tits.

The hundred baht notes are flying towards the stage and the wife of the Japanese guy is trying to give her money.

Her hair covers her face and chest as the drummer is going crazy and when she releases

those puppies. For Sweden they aren’t particularly big breasts but they really create a stir in Chiang Mai. In Chiang Mai she is stacked. In Chiang Mai she is Pamela Anderson.

She raises her arms and shakes her hair from her face and I think I am in a Fellini movie.

Every profession has it stars. Golf has it’s senior tour and thousands of people still clap and Patpong strippers have the Princess.

A middle aged Isaan woman that on a given night if the moon is just right and the lights are just right and if the music is just right can still bring the house down.


Stickman's thoughts:

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