Frankie Goes to Angeles City Again…

Possibly, some combination of paranoia and madness made me see things in a rather different way than, say Korski, during my Angeles City trip. But I am willing to bet that if you took ten Pattaya tourists and plonked them down on Fields Avenue
for the first time that eight of the ten would soon be looking for the first plane back to Thailand – the exceptions would either be adrenalin junkies or permanently drunk. It is that kind of place, a lot nearer to the Wild West than anything
you might find wandering around Walking Street or even Soi Bukalao. I have been told that Angeles City has become much more hardcore dangerous with regards to corrupt cops etc. so someone saying that it ain't so would need to have visited
at least within the last twelve months rather than years ago – I could tell you that Washington Square had great gogos for picking up newish girls – and it did twenty years ago!

There are actually cherry girls in Angeles City and there are eighteen year-old girls who you could consider very innocent and the only time I would try to get any sex out of them if I actually got serious and permanently took one of them
out of the bar. You may even find the odd twenty-five year-old cherry girl but the girl I stayed with, who was 22 and no virgin (as described in our first encounter without labouring her sexuality as I believe Stick does not want eight hundred
words on the actual sex act). Yes, she was shy with regards to foreigners, didn't do well on high-heels and not used to alcohol but by the third night she was getting feisty and demanding to drink free Tequilas and having a great old time
(as noted in my narrative).

Sorry about the slight crudity but Korski's wild accusations do demand a little detail. If, during normal sex, you use your finger and pussy juices in the other, err, entrance and the girl does not object but gets off on it then it is
quite reasonable to ask her if she wants to take it to the next level some time further down the night. The alcohol is an ingredient in this mix, as it helps relax the babe and make her more adventurous but the idea that it stops someone from
saying no – or would make the author ignore such a request – is an absurdity. Certainly, there are many farang who become incoherent and violent brutes when drunk – and Korski seems convinced that I am one of these people
though we have never met, though we may well have passed by each other some time in the neon night – but excess beer just puts me to sleep rather than making me violent.

Korski does not know this and the original narrative gives no hint of the details, again because Stick does not want his stories filled with sexual stuff. The multiple orgasm mentioned in the narrative implies pleasure rather than pain and
certainly would have no place in a rape situation. Again, it is absurd to suggest that I do not know the difference between an orgasm and a scream of pain, not that there is any hint of such screams in the narrative. Certainly the girl was not
that happy about it in the morning but the cause of that – what I would describe as mild worry – was having unprotected anal sex. Not that it stopped her having more unprotected straight sex in the afternoon! <As an interesting aside here, some hardcore Pattaya-based expats tell me they especially like Angeles because the girls "expect" it to be done bareback. One guy said he has clocked up about 150, all bareback and never contracted anything. Scary. – Stick>

And, yes, a woman thirty years my junior giving her whole body to me is a power trip. And these gals do it because they want to make you totally addicted, not because they are too pissed to know what they are doing or to say NO! BTW given
the willingness of the police to bung foreigners in jail on the merest whim, to do anything that reeks of rape would be very, very stupid. Again, Korski is absolutely convinced that what the girls tell him about their sexual likes and hates has
some foundation in what they really feel, rather than what they think he wants to hear. He may think he is above all that nonsense but that is the way it is in the Orient, you have to keep peeling off layers of disinformation before you get anywhere
near the truth – like staying with one girl 24/7 for four years.

Only an idiot or a newbie would pick up a tranny by mistake, seems to be the general reaction to that little debacle. Again, read the narrative – she was picked up in a bar well out of the zone and nowhere does it say it was a go-go
bar and certainly not a bar full of trannies. There was no giveaway, nothing – no huge body, no Adam's apple, no deep voice etc – no tell whatsoever (again read the narrative). Some Asian guys come out so feminine to begin with
that it does not take much to make the transformation complete – again, I am willing to wager that in a room full of girls the vast majority of guys would not spot the tranny. For sure, most of them can be spotted but this was that one
in a thousand and a sheer case of my luck running out.

And yes, I look like an easy touch. I am a 55 years old, five foot ten and 65kg British guy with a face that I openly admit (in past narratives, only hint in the Angeles City was the effect of beer and sleep in the morning) is mired in a
certain amount of ugliness, especially the jug ears. The con-artists obviously see me as an easy touch, and their claws extend to porters in the hotels, corrupt cops and wannabe gangsters. In my world they are all lining up to do me over given
half a chance – is this paranoia or harsh old reality? For sure, if you stay in one of the expensive hotels in the strip and just do the quick walk to the gogos you may avoid the worst of it, especially if you look violent, burly and have
a dead man's stare. But I would still say that there is a certain amount of luck involved even in that.

Polite Filipino beggars who don't cause much of a disturbance – speechless about that, not the world I live in. Honest Filipino cops – yes, I had the phone number of one of the chiefs in my pocket for emergencies; ditto
one of the few honest attorneys. But I was only so armed because of the reputation of most of the others. Harmless gangsters who will only attack you if you do something really stupid – yes, I am sure they have hearts of gold and only want
to help tourists. Disgruntled local men all riled up at old men pawing their young woman, barely restraining themselves – nah, far too many women in the PI, they are all exhausted out. Oh, and those Filipino guys are all five foot nothing
wimps – maybe twenty years ago, but like in Thailand there are plenty of freakishly large males these days who are convinced they are masters of their particular delinquent universe.

Is the phone ringing in the hotel room merely the receptionist phoning to apologize or someone on the make – in Korski's world probably someone phoning to check everything in the room is okay, in mine – and from past real
experience in Manila – some form of con about to go down. Of course, I never actually answer the phone, which just reinforces the madness.

Did I see a farang being dragged out of the room opposite by the cops or were they merely helping remove an unwanted woman? Were the police helpfully taking a foreigner having an heart attack to the nearest hospital or was the heart attack
caused by him being arrested. I am sure Korski would have made enquiries, happy that Angeles City is a safe place where no problems will ensue if you bring yourself to the attention of the police. Not me, sorry. It is well known, for instance,
that if you pick up freelance girls who are underage but claim to be eighteen (note this Korski before going off on a paedo rant) the cops will come calling – it is often a deliberate set-up, sometimes a tip-off from the hotel staff. Korski,
or others, don't know about this – sorry, I do not know which world you are living in.

Korski can't for instance get his head around the idea that you pay a different taxi fare if you hijack one that has just dropped someone off compared to what you pay if you are ushered into one that has been waiting for god knows how
long. He pays 300 peso, I paid half that – it is even worth mentioning? And he has never been hustled by a Filipino taxi driver – he has a passing resemblance to the Pope or what? Korski suggests I try the slums of Manila if I want
a taste of the Wild West but only if I have a young lady in tow to look after me – so Angeles City is safe compared to some god awful hell-hole of a slum but as I said at the beginning, how safe is it compared to Pattaya which is surely
the point given that Stick's site is aimed at Thailand and its alternatives.

I must admit that I have stayed in some cheap Pattaya hotels where there was a similar level of disturbance, hammering on the doors, the feel that the place could degenerate into some form of living hell and weird looks from the staff but
my disguise of aged poverty seemed to keep me immune from such attention. Of course, in Korski's world Pattaya is a place where foreign suicides have nothing to do with police or gangsters throwing people off balconies, merely some poor sod
coming to the conclusion that his life has no value; possibly after realising the terrible sin of taking advantage of a bargirl. Sorry, not my world.

Again read the narrative. Was I attacked with an iron bar because of my last night with Gracie, was it because I pissed off one of the hustlers or merely because I was a foreigner walking down a darkish street late at night, thus an easy
target? Korski doesn't seem to believe I have fast enough reactions to avoid the blow, that level of instinctive survival that actually leaves you high at the sheer outrageous primitive reaction – and others complain that I didn't
search for disappearing Gracie, who may or may not have been linked to it. Fair enough, but I am irked, if you like, that in the past twenty years I have taken my luck to the limit and am not inclined to push it much further in Angeles City.

Too many scams too quickly – believe me, if you look stupid or innocent on your first day in Angeles City they will come at you every which way; once word gets around they tend not to bother you too much, unless they have a hint of
easy money or you piss someone off. It should be obvious by now I have no tolerance for these kinda local men in on the scams and find it hard to hold back the nasty comments. The camo pants and punk tee-shirt more an amusement than a survival
manoeuvre but every little helps – and there is still plenty of military involvement in the PI, although Fields is supposed to be out of bounds.

Someone even complained that eating salad in the PI is a no-no and forcing a local girl to eat it was actually dangerous to her health. Abject nonsense, I ate salad every day in Angeles and previously in Manila with no problems whatsoever.
Again, read the narrative, I was contemplating taking Gracie out of the bar to Cebu with me and part of that deal is – for me – educating the woman along the line as well as ending up with her only owning clothes that I have bought
for her (which also seems to have outraged one contributor for some reason). Of course, a lot of women will go mental if you try that kinda shit on them and it is a kind of test of the depth of their amiability how far they will let you take it
(again, read the narrative) – I mean, my god, let's string him up, he made her eat healthy food and brought her some nice clothes. Nasty man!

In retrospect, I should have given Gracie the benefit of the doubt and hustled her out of town to Cebu or Porta Princessa or somewhere at least reasonably sane and seen where we went with it but I had this terrible feeling that as far as
the Orient went I'd pushed my luck as far as it would go over the past twenty years and was living on borrowed time. That either makes a stupid f..ked up fool or a clever bastard. Next time I get bored, it will be Phnom Penh…