No.7. How Not to Handle Girls in Thailand’s Bars
This time I’m sharing with you a tale about a guy who invited me to tell his story. He’s happy to have me write it up because he prefers to lurk in the background. We’ll call him Hank.
The aircraft touched down bumpily at the old Don Muang airport in Bangkok. Unable to contain his excitement, Hank leaped up to retrieve his hand baggage from the overhead locker. He’d planned this first trip to The Land of Smiles a long time ago, and was determined to have the time of his life – after all, his mates who’d been many times had offered him sound advice.
Fighting his way to the line of taxis, he accepted a deal from a shifty character who promised careful, expert and swift conveyance to Pattaya – at a price that sounded reasonable.
The ancient car juddered along the freeway, dodging in and out of lanes at breakneck speed. Hank unbuttoned his shirt to mop up perspiration caused by the malfunctioning air conditioner, and sheer fright on discovering he’d hired a road rage specialist. Arriving in The Extreme City four hours later, after suffering a burst tire – or tyre, depending on your native spelling – a boiling radiator and a couple of police checks, the surly driver dropped Hank outside the small but friendly hotel recommended by his pals. Handing over a few thousand baht notes, insisting the man keep the change, he marched into his residence, anticipating a warm greeting.
The gloomy interior reeked of stale tobacco smoke, even staler beer, and overpowering perfume wafted from a dozen or so girls lounging about. A Thai man behind the bar – there wasn’t a reception area – instructed one girl to assist with Hank’s bags while he checked in. Following the rather well built lass up the dingy, narrow concrete stairway, he wondered if he’d arrived at the right place. Stepping inside the room, he knew he’d made a bad mistake. Tipping the makeshift porter a thousand baht, he dumped his belongings on the uncomfortable, suspicious looking bed, trying to convince himself it wasn’t really that bad, and may seem more inviting after a beer or two. As the shower delivered no water, he bravely returned to the bar to report the problem, and sampled his first Thai beer. His spirits rose when several attractive girls befriended him, all seemingly thirsty when they suggested, “Little drink for me?” A number of little drinks later, the boss enquired if he’d like to pay now, or have the bill added to his room account. Agreeing to bill it, Hank found himself drawn towards a particularly beautiful young lady who insisted on clipping his fingernails in-between supping little glassfuls of a very heady concoction. Time sped by as his new friendship became more meaningful, with the caring lady enquiring if he happened to be hungry.
Delighted to accompany her to a plush, expensive restaurant, they indulged in all manner of good food before returning to the – er – establishment. Hank ordered two very special drinks in order to consolidate his intimate friendship with the best girl he’d ever met. Unfortunately, the girl’s other farang boyfriend had arrived, and greeted her warmly while Hank sipped his drink alone.
Postscript: Hank decided to rethink his plan of attack before revisiting Thailand. He’s still working on it.