Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 243
Dana's Log–Starship Pattaya–August 09
Dana here Dana fans, men of the world, Pattaya brothers, and mongers. Greetings and salutations. Sa wa dee khrap and . . . ok, I'll just cut to the chase.
I CAN'T GO HOME AND I NEED HELP
It happened like this. I went to my world famous incredibly expensive dentist in Boston's financial district and he quoted me $7200 for two crowns and three putty knife skill level non-mercury topical composite fillings. For that amount of egregious overcharging I expect to get a naked woman and a trout stream in Scotland. I didn't say that.
Instead, I called up Pattaya Gary and he recommended a dentist in Manilla. Off to Manilla. In Manilla I got two crowns, three fillings, tooth cleaning, sexy dental assistants, radiant smiles at the front desk, and a titanium post artificial tooth installed for so much less than $7200 I'm not even going to tell you. You wouldn't believe it. Let's just put it this way–I also received as a parting gift a naked woman and a trout stream in Scotland.
It took three weeks to get all this work done because I require double novocaine shots for all dental surgery. Caution called for surgery or dental appointments every three days. Exiting the dental clinic at the end I was on anti-biotics and percocet/morphine pain killers. You could have whipped me with a wet noodle, and I couldn't have gotten a stiff dick if you used tongue depressors to make a splint
So naturally . . . I went to Angeles City. Not to participate in boom-boom, or yum yum, or ow ow; god knows that wasn't going to be possible–just to be a tourist. The plan was to just check out all the bars and to check out all the girls before flying back to Bangkok. In organizations and in the military they refer to this as BUOT (Best Use Of Time). Ok I just made that last bit up. Anyway, I had a plan. So what happened?
I never got to girl number two or to bar number two. Maria was a door greeter at the first bar I walked up to. I went down like a tree. My knees gave out like I had just been shot in the head with a .470 Nitro Express. Stick a fork in me–I was done.
Well . . . the first short-time became a second short-time. The second short-time became a third short-time. Sunday I found my atheist self in a Catholic church with Maria singing about Jesus and flying angels. I was also wearing a motorcycle helmet in case Maria's head exploded. She looked so happy her head might explode.
Short-times became long-times. My jaw and my teeth and my mouth started to feel better and I no longer needed dick splints. Then I said:
Me: Let's go to the hotel activities director and sign up for tourist things to do in town, and outside of town, and on the island, and maybe on some other islands in the Philippines.
So we signed up for four days as traveling tourists. Maria was so happy she was babbling. I almost changed her name to Brook. I thought she might have a brain aneurysm.
At the end of three days of this 'see-the-Philippines' stuff I said:
Me: Maria, do you have a passport?
Maria: Yes, why?
Me: Let's go to Thailand instead.
Let's go to Thailand instead? Yes, well: here is what happened. I just could not warm up to the Philippines experience. The filth, and the garbage, and the damaged infrastructure, and the damaged people, and the sores on the children's legs, and the despair, and the undercurrent of potential violence was just too much for me. I'm a small almost elderly white guy. I just want to have fun.
So we flew from Manilla to Thailand. Using my condo in Pattaya as a home base we did fun tourist things in Chiang Mai, and in Bangkok, and in Pattaya, and in Phuket. It was great–really one of the best times in my life. Happy people make other people happy and Maria the door greeter from Angeles City was ecstatic. She had the demeanor of a prisoner who had gone over the wall and found the sun. But it had to end. That was the plan and Maria knew about the plan. Still, on the morning of the last day she lay by my side and cried.
I'm no fool (ok, I'm not a complete fool) so I accompanied her to the airport and stood and watched her get on the plane to Manilla. Case closed. Plan completed. Everyone happy. Time to move on. I'm an international person and I have successfully done an international thing.
So, what's the problem? Well . . . I've known Fa for about eight years here in Pattaya and she had a temporary housing problem so I let her move in with me. She brought everything she owns including an aquarium, fish, and a parrot. Fa's been a whore for about twenty-four years and to say she is tough is to make an understatement. Imagine a cobra that shaves with barbed wire and gargles with razor blades.
So, what does this Fa housing thing have to do with Maria in Manilla? MARIA IS NOT IN MANILLA. I just saw her on a motorbike taxi with a backpack and a suitcase and headed for my condo. Fa is there. I am supposed to be there. If I go home Fa will be there, and I will be there, and Maria will be there. This is the part about getting dental work done in the Philippines that Pattaya Gary neglected to tell me about.
Help me. I need help. Help me. Please tell me what to do. Oh God–please help me. Email me immediately or come down to the Internet place near Soi 10 and Beach Road. Hurry. Run like people with knives are chasing you. And don't ever, ever, ever, ever come to Thailand if you are reading this from outside the Kingdom. This place is a deathstar. A train wreck. It's . . . please, I am begging you; please help me. See, here is the thing. If you have never been to the Kingdom before you might think that the two girls will fight and one will leave. You are mistaken oh innocent one. What will happen . . . what almost always happens, is that Fa and Maria will share stories and then join forces. Fa is tough and Maria has ideas of her own and a backbone of steel. The two of them together will meld into one angry wild-eyed estrogen bomb. Like coiled spitting cobras they wait for me to come home. Waiting for the foreign man mouse to show up. I WILL BE TORN TO PIECES.
Oh God . . . please help me.
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