Readers' Submissions

Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 179

  • Written by Dana
  • June 2nd, 2007
  • 7 min read


China Hotel Guide
• Dijon Hotel Shanghai
• Hansen Hotel Shanghai
• Hong Qiao State Guest Hotel
• Jin Sha Hotel

Two stories today Stickmanites and lesser Earthlings for your delectation and education. The first story owes partial provenance to a Norwegian Pattaya expat known as Four Bathrooms JJ. The second story is just straight Dana gifting. Enjoy.


TRANSFERENCE OF PROPERTY

"All is entropy and hope beguiles with empty promise.
In the end only Satan smiles." — IDH

When you decide to buy a piece of property caution requires that you go down to the local Courthouse and research the documents regarding the property's past and present. Has a 'right-of-way' been declared across a part of the property? Have squatters beaten the past owner in court and are now a part of the landscape you will pay taxes on? Has the basement got flood level marks? What do the neighbors say about the property? Is the house in arrears on real estate taxes? Has an unpaid contractor placed a mechanic's lien on the property? Are there bats in the attic and snakes behind the walls? All reasonable questions as a part of the process that precedes signing on the dotted line. But can you really know everything about a property's past?

Roger was sixty-six and now had end stage kidney disease. His wife Benz was twenty-nine and had end stage greed disease. Roger was not as frisky as when they had first met, and Benz was not as patient as when they had first met. One day while they were at the movies there was a break-in. Things were over turned, and upset, and things were stolen. The house was put back in order and the stolen items were replaced. Roger was angry and Benz cried.

Two months later Benz was visiting her mother (boyfriend) and Roger was home alone on the dialysis machine. Four lean brown Thai men broke in. They smashed the machine with hammers, and broke Roger's nose, and then restole what had been stolen before and been replaced. Benz came home and cried. Roger developed the palsy shake of the elderly, and the sick, and the scarred. A new kidney dialysis machine was purchased and Benz had the whole house repainted with new furniture, and drapes, and wall coverings, and floor coverings, and washing machine / dryer, and plasma TV, and attached new carport with two new crotch rockets. Roger said nothing.

A week after the last piece of furniture was delivered Benz was visiting a girlfriend (boyfriend) and Roger was at home. It was two in the morning and it looked like he was in bed. But he was not in the bed. He was in the hallway where he could see the open window of the bedroom. Pillows under the covers looked like Roger was in bed. Roger had a gun. When the last of the four lean brown Thai men dropped through the window Roger opened fire. He fired at the ceiling. All the 'robbers' got away. The police were called. Stories were told. Benz came home and cried. She was shocked. Shocked.

Benz had the whole bullet riddled hallway ceiling ripped out and replaced with imitation Travertine marble and frosted mirrors. Roger paid. And his shakes got worse. Much worse.

Three days later Benz was shopping in the afternoon (boyfriend) and four lean brown Thai men walked in the front door. Roger was hooked up to the kidney dialysis machine. His nose was broken again, and his machine was smashed again, and his knees were beaten to pieces with hammers. The men brought in a two wheeler and removed the washer and the dryer. Benz later replaced them with the top of the line models that came in pink. One night Roger told his twenty-nine year old Thai wife Benz that he thought for health purposes he should go back to Austria where kidney dialysis machines were less likely to get smashed with hammers. She cried and cried and cried and cried and cried. The next morning she packed his bag, and handed him his passport and his crutches, and drove him to Bhumi airport. Goodbye Roger.

When she got back to the house four lean brown Thai men were delivering whiskey, and beer, and ice, and prawns, and rice, and fish, and vegetables, and lawn furniture, and a big music sound system, and putting up a lawn tent with a little stage, and hanging bug zappers and . . . and smashing the kidney dialysis machine with hammers. It was party time. Benz handed out bags of cash all around and then announced that the Transference of Property Party had officially begun.


YOU KNOW YOU'VE GRADUATED WHEN YOU HEAR YOURSELF SAY . . .

I'm walkin' down the Pattaya beach boulevard one night with absolutely nothing on my mind. The day is done and I am tired. The only reason I am walking down the boulevard rather than the other side of the street is because it is a lot easier. No slow tourists to dodge around and no cracked sidewalk to negotiate and no vendors to ignore. Just clear easy sailing on the wide fun happy boulevard at the end of the day. But I am in no mood or inclination or shape to consider falling in love. The day is done and I am going home to the AA Hotel to fall asleep on the bed like a shot dog.

Then I see her:

Leaning against a palm tree and trying to look interesting. Beautiful dark skin and gorgeous black hair and about four feet tall. Shaped like an hourglass. The kind of improbable body you would see in a Japanese comic book. The type of fantasy woman you drew in study hall in Junior High School when you were fourteen years old.

I just leap at her. I forget all of my clever charming stratagems and just leap at her. I forget to tell her I can not speak Thai in three different ways (the girls love this). I forget the Thai words and phrases notecards in my pocket (always a charmer). I forget to pull out a condom and cover it with my hand and shake my head from side to side to make her understand that we will be making love, not profits for condom makers. I forget about the anal sex playing card in my wallet that I show to indicate what we will be doing. I forget it all. I just leap. And at the same time I see my brain fly right out of my head. Out of my head and dodging through the palms and then headed north towards the condos on the point.

"Wait–wait brain: don't fly away. Stay with me. Don't leave me . . . "

I have forgotten everything and lost my brain and leapt at a freelancer. We go to the hotel room.

It is like falling into a vat of chocolate pudding. She and I are simply fabulous and made for each other and in love. And she is nuts about me. How can I tell? Well by the way she treats me of course. How else? And if she is just pretending I don't care. Because if I can not tell the difference then the difference does not matter.

She poses in front of the big mirror in the room. She wears my beach pants and smiles and dances and poses. I take pictures. Her smile would blind the sun. Bedtime athletics are from the heart and I have to pinch myself. "Am I dreaming this?" She gets tickled. We laugh. We make love. She is frisky and lovely and a player. It is as if we have known each other for ten years. Then there is the shower where she is attentive and sexy. We play Wet T-shirt contest with her putting on my shirts and then me spraying water on her. She poses in front of the bathroom mirror by standing on the side of the tub while I hold her hips. I have to remind myself to breathe. I towel her off. It's a dream. I've won the lottery. I'm beyond reason that god has placed this creature in my arms. She is umimprovable. Woman incarnate.

As she is getting dressed she says, "Would you like to have me stay the night? Longtime?"

"No thanks."–I say.

You Know You've Graduated When You Hear Yourself Say–

"No Thanks."


Stickman's thoughts:

"Stickmanites and lesser Earthlings" – This quote alone almost makes the submission green star quality….of course I jest.

But in all seriousness, two very nice stories today. Not much to add 'cept that they were both good reads.