Anecdotes of Invisibility
I was the invisible boy in high school. My kid brother was a total stud. Once he had mononucleosis and though confined to bed had visits from pretty polly types that pleasured him while I was in my room, soul in turmoil, Black Sabbath drowning out unspeakable
sounds, not a babe in sight. My brother did not even have to LEAVE the house, or even ask them, they just appeared like aspara, and he their hero. Carloads of cheerleaders would stop in front of our house, scream Rudi's name, then peel out.
Imagine, can you? Rudi never got a big head.That was just his life back in 1975. I remained invisible until about eleven years ago when I got my teeth fixed for $9,000 and I gained weight from a slower metabolic rate and went BACK to Thailand
to a different place. Apparently, I had changed too much to suit the place, but I'll get to this more later.
When I was 10 my dad brought home a globe with a lightbulb inside and a proper piece of furniture it was. After locating Ohio I spun it 180 degrees and there was Siam, and knew it was my destiny. (Unfortunately, I am an intellect and a romantic). Also, spotted Guam, but that's another story. Point here is this. My initial discovery of Thailand happened as a romantic notion, the kind inspired by light literature and NOT a navy brochure.
As destiny would have it, I met a Thai lady in 1986. Out of 300,000 souls and all the 'gin joints' in Dayton, Ohio, I met one of the few. Although she was 11 years my senior she was cute, was a masters degree graduate and was a P.T.S.D. case worker at the V.A.
Now it's 1988 and she's staring out the window, on another plane of existence, which they usually are all the time anyway, and in mid pout waiting to be appeased, when it hits me, that this is my chance to walk out of there and book my FIRST ticket to LOS!!!! Give her two weeks to come to her senses or whatever, I didn't care. I had 2 weeks of vacation coming and an excuse. I was on a plane the next day. Cost me a mint.
In those days the plane door opened up on ambient air and a ladder descent into the whole sensuous–or is it sensual?– scent of diesel fumes, humidity, unspeakable culinary practices, and the diffuse trace of a thousand joss stick conflagrations. Butterflies in the stomach, a row of M16 toting soldiers, I get on the bus to the terminal.
Do I now get bolted away with and stray from my supposed premise, that being my middle aged transformation? The title did include the word anecdotes did it not? Well, I better not stray because people seem to prefer the "finger pointing" types
of entries anyway instead of the light non fictional literature I'd like to lay on you fine gentlemen of my first time in LOS when everything was supposedly so much better than now.
Back then six sings and you'd see God, and the girl would bang you until you begged her to let you sleep, but I won't do that to you guys. It really wasn't that great, except for the ubiquitously sublime music, totally non professionalism of the girls, no cell phone primadonnas sitting in their room instead of taking their place at the bar, tattooless LBFM–little brown….–honeys giving all the boys a "sponge bath" with the pa yen, instead of tossing you a plastic wrapped one. Sorry, I don't mean to be unkind to the readership that is newer to LOS. I just want to convey what I hope is something interesting. I'll reluctantly pick up with the premise stated in paragraph one.
Flash foward to Happy A Gogo on Pattaya's Walking Street. Year 2002. It has like its own soi that you must walk the gauntlet of, that some don't make it to the end of. If you make it to the end and enter, you'll find it has male waiters that WOULDN'T serve me after I wasn't skinny and invisible anymore. A lot has changed in my appearance since I was here last year. A dancer on stage made a gesture that implied that I'm not being served because the male wait staff are jealous of my presence! Wow, I'm not used to this. I grew up an invisible boy, just ordinary. Well, next it's the lesbian girls in the Bodega bar that fear and loathe me speaking to the straight gals. Not to mention the lager lout cyclopses not being the least bit collegial to me. It is true that the average Joe is the cock of the walk, or maybe I just don't belong anymore, if I ever did?
Things have changed.