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Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 356

  • Written by Dana
  • December 1st, 2012
  • 8 min read


CAVEMAN SIGHTINGS — PART TWO

I seem to get involved in Caveman sightings. Not normally, or even abnormally, my first choice; but there you have it. Caveman sightings seem to be attracted to me like iron filings are attracted to a magnet. Hard to argue with science. It seems to be part of the big equation I have no understanding of or control over. I'm just a leaf on the wind. Some leaf. Some wind. Anyway, I seem to get involved in Caveman sightings. I need someone to step in and help me. Please help me.

Why do I always get the Caveman sighting calls? A retired Reuters reporter named Flimflam Brooster knows me from Budapest in the 60's when I picked up extra money on the weekends selling little doll outfits at erection parties. Eurasian women, guys with accents, erections, cameras, on-site film processing, and dressing up the erections with little doll hats and accessories and dresses. Picture time. You get the idea.

Anyway, Flimflam has friends in the Pattaya police department and sometimes when they have something strange in the farang category they call Flimflam Brooster and then he recommends that they call me. I guess it is a kind of Rolodex connection, but frankly; sometimes I could do without it. Maybe that is just me. You decide.

Anyway, way down on the end of Walking Street in Pattaya is an alley on the left. Turn down the alley and you end up in a cul-de-sac with a giant tree in the car park and little bungalow style rooms. Large spa style bathtubs and Thai style raised bed platforms. A cult hotel and an excellent place to fall in love or to hide out or both. Well, someone dropped a dime on a farang in one of the rooms. Apparently, the farang was not dead but he might need medical attention or at least looking in on. Concern for the well being of foreigners by Thais is practically a law of physics.

The police pushed in the door and found a farang in a bed full of various kinds of melons. Small, medium and large melons, horned melons, yellow melons, white melons, watermelons, cantaloupe melons, green melons, and melons of various odd or unusual colors and shapes. The police report detailed one hundred and twelve melons on the bed and under the covers. It was almost impossible to see the naked farang under and among all the melons. There was also a camera on a tripod at the foot of the bed with a string that lead from the shutter release to the man's big toe. So far, nothing too strange. Right? It's Thailand.

Except, except . . . there were also a number of big black marking pens in the bed and many of the various melons had faces drawn on them. Some of the melons had dolls' clothes on them. Kind of reminded me of Budapest. Anyway and apparently, the farang was getting naked in a bed full of happy and cooperative melons; drawing faces on them, dressing them, and then taking pictures of himself and his melon friends. Other things that might have been going on in that Right Spot hotel room were beyond the ability of the police to speculate on. I offered no clues.

Front desk hotel information showed that the farang had registered under the name Caveman. How many guys named Caveman can there be? Yup, it was him. Anyway, he wasn't dead, just exhausted. The hotel room filled up with Pattaya police, Walking Street volunteer police, maids, a tail wagging dog, and an Arab with a hookah in a backpack.

I was there. People looked to me for guidance. The Pattaya chief of police, Crazy Legs Choonayoondorn had called my Reuters friend, Flimflam Brooster, and he had recommended that they call me. I said that.

Ok, it all got sorted out and I managed to convince the police not to confiscate the pics showing a naked farang consorting with melons. It's Thailand, who are we to judge vegan love? But here is my question for the universe. I'm old, I'm retired, I'm an expat who just wants to stay under the radar. I don't want any trouble. I don't want to get involved with vegan love. I've got my own problems on the boardwalk. So why do I always get these Caveman/police incident calls? This last adventure was the fourth time I had gotten one of these calls.

To wit: I have decided to take the high road on this. We farangs are all brothers under the skin so I am not going to talk in detail about my other Caveman involvements. God knows, he's probably got enough troubles. The time I was called to Chiang Mai because one of his young fat Thai lady photography assistants was caught on page six of a suicide letter? I'm not going to talk about it.

The incident in Chiang Mai where he and another farang rural road photography enthusiast got into a fistfight over who had exclusive rights to a picture opportunity that included a dirt road with a big pothole? I am not going to talk about it. No need and serves no purpose but I did have to pull in some consultants on that one. Pattaya Gary, 500 Baht Walt, and Fa had to get involved regarding legal issues, medical attention, and anger management counseling. But, like I said, I'm going to take the high road 'we-are-all-brothers-under-the-skin' on this thing. I'm not going to talk about it. I guess that is how I am different.

And, my journal shows a 2500 word entry on the call I got from the police regarding an incident at a Vegans vs. Meateaters rugby game. Flimflam Brooster was there also; ask him, I'm not saying anything. I'm taking the Fa vow on this one. She is a non-talker and so am I.

Apparently, the Vegan Team cheerleaders and the Meateater Team cheerleaders showed up with slightly different agendas and Caveman got upset and started complaining to game officials. Things escalated. Violence ensued. Violence at a rugby match in a third world country? No real surprise, but this was vegans vs. meateaters. Some of the language was shocking. I got there a little late but I saw the game film. Frightening. I'm not going to go into detail but the following facts should paint a general picture.

The Vegan cheerleaders showed up in little outfits styled after Thai female public school uniforms, and the Meateaters cheerleading squad showed up in full camo, danced a Prussian goose step, and waved Remington 12 gauge shotguns around. As soon as the Vegans saw this display of meat manhood and heard 'Death to Vegans' in the cheer they lodged a complaint with the Rugby game officials. Something about the Meateater cheerleading song not being in keeping with good sportsmanship. Blah, blah, blah. That is when Caveman and some Meateater cheerleaders got into a fight.

It is hard to know about some of this stuff. Below is the Vegan Team cheer:

We're the Vegans
We know what's right
We're the Vegans
Free recipes tonight

Don't eat meat
You know it's wrong
Big bad meateaters
Be gone, be gone

and here is the cheer from the cheerleaders on the Meateaters Team:

Sausages
Bacon
Pot Roast
Lamb
Death to Vegans

Hot Dogs
Cheeseburgers
Brisket
More lamb
Death to Vegans

We're the Meateathers
We're here to fight
We're the Meateaters
Death to Vegans
Death to Vegans

I don't know. You decide. Was this worth getting into a fight over? Game film showed Caveman waving his arms around like a demented windmill and displaying an interesting combination of facial tics and Turrette's syndrome. So as you can see, this incident at the Right Spot hotel in the bed with smiley face melons was by no means a unique event. But I'm not talkin'. Only the high road for me.

The time he was caught at Immigration with a giant zucchini in his pants? The zucchini was wrapped in aluminum foil so that the x-ray machines would not pick it up but it was kind of impossible not to notice. Anyway, and to iterate, I'm not saying anything. Partly out of respect and partly because militant vegan nutters scare the shit out of me. I love this guy more than the smile on my daughter's face. You know, if I had a daughter, and if she had a face. So, you can see how all of this makes a kind of sense. Thailand.

Except for the one thing: I seem to get involved in Caveman sightings. Not normally, or even abnormally, my first choice; but there you have it. Caveman sightings seem to be attracted to me like iron filings are attracted to a magnet. Hard to argue with science. It seems to be part of the big equation I have no understanding of or control over. I'm just a leaf on the wind. Some leaf. Some wind. I seem to get involved in Caveman sightings. I need someone to step in and help me. Please help me. Oh no, my phone is ringing. It is either Fa or another Caveman sighting. I'm almost afraid to pick it up. It isn't easy to be me.