First Steps in Angeles City
I have no hidden agenda here, no axe to grind, no palms to grease. As I herein express my experiences with, and reflections upon, business establishments, please bear in mind that they are just that, my experiences and opinions. Due to the kaleidoscopic nature of Angeles City, it would likely be pure coincidence if those of the reader do not vary.
Heading to El Dorado
After breakfast in Makati, Danielle and I parted ways, and I returned to my hotel room. It was about 11:45 AM, giving me just enough time to finish re-packing and check-out by noon. Some days ago, I'd reserved transportation from Makati up to Angeles City through the website of Margarita Station, and the front desk called to let me know my driver had arrived. I settled up at the desk, tipped the bellhop, and got in the car.
His name was Nelo. He brought some San Miguel, in a cooler on ice, just as I'd requested. He was very quiet, speaking only when spoken to, and did not seem interested in conversation. He was pleasant enough, just quiet. Perhaps he was a little self-conscious of his English skills. Perhaps he is a little bitter, transporting white men to his home city to fuck his beautiful, young Pinay neighbors. Or perhaps he was just tired. I certainly was, but my level of excitement was high, as I had my first chance to see the Philippines in daylight, and as I looked forward to meeting Nelo's neighbors.
The highway up to AC is top-rate. Big, multi-lane, high speed, divided (or "dual carriageway" for those of you of that persuasion), controlled access. It was a bright, clear, beautiful day, and the countryside of the Philippines was spectacular. Cane fields, palm trees, rice paddies (I think), scarecrows, Filipinos, and at intervals along the way were rest stops featuring food and drink of iconic American brands. A week of a lifetime lay ahead of me, as I was armed with knowledge, confidence, dollars, and, well, both blue and latex accoutrements.
As we neared Angeles, I told Nelo I would have to go to a moneychanger before I could pay him. Arriving in Angeles, I saw mostly what I had expected to see: dirty streets, tricycles, Filipinos, and varying degrees of development, from poverty to near-middle-class.
He took me to a moneychanger on Fields Avenue, which I learned later, through experience, had a very favorable exchange rate. He then drove me to the hotel, Angeles Beach Club (ABC), arriving around 2:30 PM. I paid him, and the bellhop took my
bags as I strode into the lobby.
As Easy as ABC
The lobby was beautiful, "Philippine Five-Star", I'd call it. The desk was staffed by three little Filipinas who were efficient, courteous, and very cute, in that little Filipina kind of way. Check-in was simple and professional. I felt an air of restrained excitement. Three giant time-zone clocks on the wall behind the desk displayed the local times in London, Paradise, and Sydney – the cute joke reassured me I had come to the right place, and the absence of New York subtly but firmly underscored my feeling of being in another world.
There was something intangible, and indescribable, about checking in, that made me feel very manly. The beautiful and spotlessly clean lobby, the clocks, the firm smiles from the staff, the ambiance, the tasteful but distinctly erotic artworks, it is all made to be a man's Disneyland, and it works – I feel it – some bizarre sense of independence, and power. The girls were professional, efficient, and courteous, but detached, perhaps even restrained. Are they just wanting to make clear that they are not a part of the "entertainment package", or is it more than that? They see in my eyes, and hear in my voice: I am there to fuck, or be fucked by, their sister, their cousin, their schoolmate, any girl who couldn't quite make her way some other way, and now takes money from men like me. Is that hatred I feel them restraining? Maybe they are jealous of the money spent upon and collected by girls who, well, you know, those girls? I could sense something.
The bellhop took me up to my room in the rear building. The outdoor pool area, restaurant and bar were all beautiful, as were all of the hotel grounds. My room door opened up facing the courtyard, with seating just outside the door, just as I wanted. Everything was every bit as nice as the pictures on ABC's website represented. I was very pleased with everything I saw, no disappointments at all, even the most minor.
The bellhop opened the door to my room, and took great pains to demonstrate all of the features – he really put on a bit of a show.
The room was very-well-designed for fun:
- wall-sized mirror (with nude etchings) next to the king-sized bed
- walk-in shower large enough for three (or more)
- very large bathtub
- six full-sized bath towels, replenished daily
- perimeter LED mood lighting with a dimmer switch
- mood lighting under the drapery valance
- mood lighting over the glass-front cabinets
- switches for everything in the room all located on the wall near the bed
- reasonably-priced mini-bar (including some atypical "personal necessities")
- laptop-sized, large safe
- very cozy loveseat and chair
- plush bathrobes and nice slippers
- suggestive, fun artwork (an oil-painting parody of Rembrandt's "Rembrandt and Saskia", featuring a tall, long-haired, nude Filipina, holding a cell phone, sitting in place of Saskia)
- six continuously-running porn channels, no extra charge.
Real nice. Everything in great condition, no signs of wear and tear, and very clean. This was a great choice. Many people have remarked that ABC is expensive, but that is relative. In my country, US $99 per night (the rate at the time) for a luxurious room at a luxurious property within walking distance of a major attraction is an absolute bargain. I loved it, the girls loved it, what can I say?
Even though I was both tired, and anxious to get out on the streets, I disciplined myself to unpack and neatly put away all my things. Knowing that once I left the room I would stepping into a world of potentially kaleidoscopic frenzy (double entendre
intended, "Frenzy" is a brand name I was to become familiar with), I supposed that here within the boundaries of my four walls I would need as much neatness and organization as could be mustered. Then I spent a few minutes, just a few
minutes, relaxing, taking in the experience, letting it sink in. I was now standing in the midst of this heralded Angeles City. My El Dorado lay before me, at my beck and call.
Pace and Rhythm
I had read a couple different articles of advice on how to best spend one's first hours or first day in AC. Everything had worked out so very well my previous night in Makati, that I had no doubts about having a fun and successful first evening here in AC, so I essentially forgot all about the friendly suggestions of what to do first or where to go first. My immediate goal was to get out onto the street, to see it and to feel it for myself. I understood the basics, the mechanics, the rules of how things work, what I needed right now was the feel. Is there danger? Is it like my Disneyland out there, as I felt in the hotel lobby? Do westerners stand out like sore thumbs, get stared at? Is there one beggar, a hundred beggars? I needed to get out on the street, to begin drinking-in this Paradise I'd read so much about. I showered, and out on the street I went, heading east on Fields Avenue toward the heart of the district. I remained a little wary, a little cautious, but the feeling on the street wasn't threatening or oppressive. Although I had the basics down, and confidence, I didn't have a feel for the pace and rhythm of the nights in AC. I was still naive enough that I didn't yet understand that there is a pace and rhythm to the nights in AC.
I came to a bar called Gecko's. I had seen their website, and read a good review of the place, so it seemed as good a choice as any for my first bar experience in AC. The door swung open, and the place was packed. Walking in, I scanned the ladies as best I could, including those on stage. I saw only three or four decent lookers, all of whom were fully occupied with customers at the bar. I was shown to a table near the very back, where a couple of dancers were sitting, none-too-pretty. Soon, a large Japanese or Korean man vacated a couch seat very close by, and I moved over to it. Another dancer took the liberty of joining me, so now I had three uglies vying for my attention. I knew this wasn't Makati, but my previous night there had set the bar high, and no one here was measuring up. After a few minutes a waitress came by, and with a distinct air of expectation, asked if I'd like to buy lady drinks for the girls. I politely but firmly said "No, thank you" (someone mean-spirited might have said something more like "Are you fucking kidding me!?!"). I wasn't very comfortable, but I can't blame these ladies for trying. Looks-wise, it will take aggression from these particular girls to squeeze a few pesos out of anybody but their own mothers. They eased up, but they stayed nearby. (Where were they going to go, Detroit?)
"Relax," I told myself, "you just got here, be patient, let the mood sink in, get in tune with the energy." I had little to do but sit, enjoy an SMB, and wait to see the stage turn over, which took about twenty or so minutes. Among the girls who took the stage, there was one who looked promising: a tall girl with long hair, very nice, tight stomach, and a decent face. She was on the farthest end of the stage away from me, and, try as I might, I could not catch her eye, so I waited patiently until the stage turned over again, so I'd have a chance to talk to her, and find out if she was going to have the pleasure of welcoming me to Angeles City. Coming off the stage, she sat next to a couple of young, fashionable Japanese guys at the bar, and she wasn't looking about to see if anyone else was interested. She was near enough that I could and did unavoidably catch her eye, and she came over for a lady drink. She acted very friendly, with a big smile and happy attitude, but soon made some comment about my legs being "soft". I said something about not getting much exercise, but she didn't let it go. Through the prettiest smile, and sitting very close next to me, she became downright insulting about me not getting enough exercise, and that I should take care to be in better shape. At first I was politely putting this down to some cultural difference – a woman in the US might be this insulting, but only if a man had been inappropriately forward, and then the woman wouldn't be doing it "in a nice way", like this girl was: she was smiling, sitting close, not shrinking away or moving away. But as I replayed her words in my mind, and scanned my intuition, I knew this wasn't some cultural difference – she was indirectly sending me a message not to barfine her – she wasn't interested. Or, more specifically, she was probably more interested in the two young Japanese men at the bar. Message received.
So, I think to myself, what can I get out of this? Her most compelling features were her relatively long torso and defined stomach muscles. These girls don't shrink away when touched. That "invasion of personal space" thing prevalent in my country isn't the same here – the rules are different. Taking advantage of that, I reached over to her, and spent a couple of minutes feeling up her mid-section, back, hair, and thighs. I guess "a deal's a deal": I'd bought her a lady drink, and I stayed out of her bikini areas, so she retained the smile, didn't shrink away, and didn't really respond. Even so, this interaction felt very different from what it's like in my country. She held her ground firmly while I did this, like as if somehow it's my right to have that level of intimacy with her, almost just because she's a woman and I'm a man. I'd confirmed yet another element of this man's Disneyland.
So, out of all of the girls there, there was only one of decent appearance whose attention I could get, and she was downright insulting. The few decent lookers in here obviously don't want my pesos, and the ones who do want my pesos, well, uh, I
still have my own hands. I left shortly afterward. I didn't set foot in there again, the whole week – no point, really.
Jenny of Lollipop
Yes, that Jenny. I have no doubt that someone reading this knows exactly who I mean. Her numerous photos on the web make clear that Jenny has been around a while, and I am SURE that no one she latches onto easily forgets about her.
Leaving Gecko's, I walked in right next door at Lollipop. I'd seen their website, and had read a good review, so it was a natural choice. As I walked in, I was surprised that it, too, was crowded, but it was not wall-to-wall, like Gecko's.
I was taken to a barstool at the stage, and Door Girl Jenny and a waitress came in with me, where Jenny stuck to me like glue. She was young and reasonably cute, but looked like, underneath her Door Girl dress, she might be just a little bit chubby.
I was polite, speaking pleasantly with her, while trying to get a good look at all of the girls on stage. But there were no real lookers on stage, and Jenny was on me like white-on-rice and would not move away for anything. This girl was not to
be phased: even though I was sending every non-verbal signal in the book, I remained the singular focus of her laser-like attention. Persistence pays: I capitulated. After seeing the girls on stage, and after having Jenny's cleavage in my
face for several minutes, and after Jenny had pressed her body against me enough to impress upon me that she was not chubby like the dress made her look, I bought her a lady drink, and parted my knees for her to step in a little closer. My feeling
was that, since she is of only moderate looks, and was so very insistent, that she'd better make this worthwhile. You're right, I didn't know Jenny.
Wow, she took the hint, and within moments we were making out like teenagers, with lots of deep kissing, rubbing, and touching. We moved to a large booth near the door, partially occupied by dancers, where the session escalated. In spite of the chubby look of her upper body, she had very firm legs and hips. I told her, after two lady drinks, I will buy her lady drinks, but I would not barfine her. In the sweetest voice, she said "That's okay, you buy me lady drink and I just want you to be happy." At one point, while Jenny was straddling me and we were kissing, the waitress reached over, underneath Jenny, and tapped me right in the nuts. Everything we were doing was in very plain view, near the front door. It was a great acclimatizing experience – I'm not an exhibitionist, but there was something very liberating about knowing that this kind of behavior was fully condoned, even encouraged. I'm really beginning to enjoy this Disneyland. Kissing, fondling, groping, rubbing, she was very aggressive about stimulating me, building up my level of desire just as high as she possibly could. Her top had come down, my pants were unzipped: she did everything but actually service me. I knew I didn't want to barfine her, but if this session went on any longer, I was going to have to fuck her right there at the booth. I tipped her P200, paid the bill, and left. I'd offered her a total of four lady drinks, but I think they did not charge me for the last one.
The Infamous Dollhouse
[Author's note: Anyone doing an appropriate amount of homework for their first trip to AC has read the stories. My trip was before the horrendous, unforgiveable beating. Even so, Dollhouse had a reputation for bill-padding and short-changing. I knew enough to be careful, keep my head, and keep my eyes open.
Dollhouse defines YMMV: I consistently had a blast in there. During my week in Paradise I visited Dollhouse several different times, and had genuine fun there every time. The girls there always made it fun for me, consistently being open, welcoming, and happy. These girls were clearly not the best lookers of the larger bars, but they gave me all of the shenanigans of the good kind, and none of the bad kind.]
I hadn't intended to go into any of what I thought of as the "big clubs" on my first night in Angeles City, but somehow Dollhouse had this strange way of drawing me in. I went there next. It was still relatively early; when I arrived, there were only three dancers. I got lots of attention from a dancer, Jeanette, and a waitress showing considerable Spanish heritage, whose name I don't recall. They were both cute, but I knew I wasn't interested in barfining either one of them. I made out with Jeanette quite a lot, lots of kissing, caressing, and rubbing. For a while I was making out with Jeanette while hugging and caressing the other one, sometimes with both of them in my lap. All of this in plain view of everyone, and wow was that fun. I knew Jeanette was working hard to get a barfine, but she wasn't quite as good-looking as what I wanted for my overnight guest. Eventually I told her I would not barfine her. That's a little tough to do, I knew she was hopeful, I didn't want to insult her or hurt her feelings, and I certainly didn't want to piss her off. And…I didn't really want to stop making out with her, either. She was a very sweet girl, a little older. She told me she had three children, and she did look good for having borne three of them. She asked me to guess her age. I was thinking at least 27, but politely said 23. She told me she's 30, probably true.
While my hands were full with Jeanette and the Spanish-heritage waitress, a group of dancers took the stage. Although this group was not the "Feature" group of dancers, they were a distinctly better selection than I'd seen at Gecko's or Lollipop. But Jeanette and the waitress were definitely playing defense – I couldn't get a good, clear look at all of the dancers, and I couldn't make direct eye contact with them, with these two on my lap. This was frustrating. I should have had the courage to tell the girls to get lost, but it's kind of hard when some little hottie is so happy to make out with you. And besides, Jeanette was genuinely warm-hearted, and very nice. It's just not in my nature to consider being potentially insulting to anyone who's been making nice with me. I kept looking at the girls on stage as much as I could. I was able to make very brief eye contact with a couple of them, but this just wasn't working out to my satisfaction, so I soon left, knowing I'd be back.
There was another waitress there who was Jeanette's roommate. Every time I visited Dollhouse, Jeanette and her roommate waitress made it a point to fuss over me, and treat me like a regular, even knowing a barfine from me wasn't in either of their respective futures. Of course they each got several lady drinks out of me over the course of the week, but there were several girls who got a lady drinks out of me without giving me the warmth that Jeanette did. She is one of those girls who, deep down, really does care about people. Oddly, I didn't see the Spanish-heritage waitress again even once, in my several trips to Dollhouse. She wasn't quite as "friendly" as Jeanette during that initial makeout session, but she was prettier than Jeanette. But Jeanette had that natural warmth that goes a lot farther than just a decent look.
By this time it was dark outside. I went to the bar Typhoon. It is owned by the Pasha Group, German owners. Again, I had seen their website. As I sat there, I looked and looked but there were no great lookers. There was no GRO or waitress or anyone who
paid very much attention to me. I felt lonely in there, and a little bored. I did like the atmosphere and the colors, I remember darkish pinks and soft purplish light, which I found attractive. But none of the girls were interested in me, they
just sort of left me alone. Although there was one very cute, short Eurasian waitress who made it a point to solicit my attention, no one really got me going. Lollipop Jenny and Dollhouse Jeanette had spoiled me. I spent more time interacting
with the peanut vendor than with any of the girls. I suppose I might have gone back there some time, but just never did.
From there I went to Genesis. I didn't specifically like the "vibe" or feel to the place, but they had the best overall selection of girls I'd seen yet. There were several lookers both on stage, and milling about. This bar had the most girls of any of the places I'd been in so far, but that may have simply been a function of the time of day that I was in there, the pace and rhythm of the night. There were probably at least forty dancers on stage, a similar number of dancers around the bar, plus the requisite waitresses, GRO's, and Door Girls. I had a poor seat, against the wall at one end of the bar, but the place was very crowded, there wasn't a better seat to be had.
After a while, the stage cleared, because there was some kind of a show starting. It consisted of three different phases. First, there was a lingerie "contest" with maybe a dozen or so different girls, from different bars, taking the stage individually to each dance briefly, not an entire song. The girls in Genesis, now essentially wall-to-wall, cheered enthusiastically for each of the three or four Genesis dancers featured in the show. Then there were dancers from an adjoining bar, Fantasy, sporting Halloween-motif body paint. Following this were the Feature Dancers from yet another bar, Carousel. I picked out one of the body-painted dancers and one of the Carousel dancers as potential barfines, but those groups disappeared as soon as they were done. I asked a waitress if they were going to be around the bar after the show, and she said "yes", but I didn't see any of them. A pitfall of language difference, I suspect.
As I was walking out of the CR at Genesis, ("I go CR" spoken and heard dozens of times, had infected my speech by this time) I passed a man wearing a <major American city> <major American sports team> jersey. At first it seemed perfectly
normal to me, because I see those, all the time, here near <major American city>. But then it dawned on me, what a bizarre coincidence. Since my first-choice hotties were gone, I watched as the regular dancers resumed, took mental note of
a couple of their numbers, and left, knowing I'd probably be back sometime.
I went next door to Fantasy. It, too was very busy. I was taken to a seat at a table which I shared with a couple of other customers. Soon after I was seated, a waitress was walking by, stopped, looked at me, looked at one of the other customers at the table, then asked "Are you two related?"
The gentleman and I looked at one another, looked at her, and informed her, "no", that we were just both seated here.
She seemed dumbfounded, finding it difficult to believe that we weren't related, because we looked so much alike. But we didn't!! We were of the same demographic, and clearly had been "victimized" by stereotyping.
[A little fictional, comic relief here:
"Where's the manager, I demand to file a complaint!"
"Very sorry sir, what seems to be the trouble?"
"One of your waitresses violated my civil rights!! She apparently seems to think white Western men all look alike!"
"I'm very sorry sir. Which one was it?"
"Well, I think it was her. No, maybe her. Or it could have been her… . Dammit, I should have gotten her number!!"]
I spotted the girl with body paint whom I'd seen and been interested in, while in Genesis. She was a beauty, a cut above virtually all of the Filipinas I'd seen so far in AC. If the chemistry between us was good, and she gave the right answers to the hard questions, there would be no decision to make, we'd be heading to ABC. I bought her a lady drink, and I was very hopeful. But she told me (in halting, broken English) that she could not barfine because of the body paint. I couldn't really understand her very well, I didn't quite catch everything she was saying. It seemed like maybe she didn't like me very well, but I really couldn't get a strong read on her, positive or negative. She didn't want to kiss, but that may have had something to do with having body paint on her cheek. However, she wrote down her name, Ailyn, her number, her cell phone number, and club name for me to come back tomorrow, or contact her later. So, she would have been happy to go with me, and maybe expected me to text her that night. But in my mind, she was still a question mark. I needed more to go on, I was not going to take anyone based upon appearance alone. But I wasn't letting go of that slip of paper, either.
Some guy came by, taking pictures. I gave him P100 to have my picture taken with Ailyn. She was hot, with a beautiful face, and this was a great opportunity to have a record of being in the company of her and other such beautiful women, in this surreal
experience. He said I could pick it up the next night – I knew it may have been a scam, but I was willing to risk P100. My attitude here, and pretty much throughout the week, was that I'd rather be perceived as a fool with a loose
wallet than an asshole with a tight one. Being realistic, people are not making nice with me because I'm a decent guy. I might appear foolish by letting a few pesos slip through my fingers like water here and there, but I'll have more
people trailing after me to pick up those pesos, than if I'm tight-fisted with them. After Ailyn left, returning to the stage, I asked a waitress if maybe the girl didn't like me too well. I had no way of knowing if the waitress would
tell me anything useful, but my intuition was just drawing a big zero on Ailyn, and I needed any clues I could get. The waitress said she was probably just very self-conscious about her poor English. This may very well have been true. Because
English is compulsory in high school (or, "secondary" school), poor English is an obvious sign of not having completed one's education, and a source of embarrassment for many of the girls. I figured I'd probably be back in
there sometime throughout the week, and I was.
I left, and went to Blue Nile. Maybe my timing was just really bad, but I didn't see anyone on stage all that interesting. It wasn't very crowded, and looked a little, well, picked-over, and thinned-out. The place had a decent look and feel, I would be returning there a couple of times through the week, but there was nothing there for me now.
I was getting a little discouraged. It was already after 11:00 PM, and I just wasn't having any success finding the right girl for my first night in AC. Thinking over my options, I considered going back to Lollipop for Door Girl Jenny. My lack of sleep was catching up with me, by this time I'd had maybe four or five hours of sleep out of the past fifty-five or so, and I was really just wanting to hook up with a hottie for the night.
I needed a plan…s
Very nicely put together report!