It is easy to get an inferiority complex reading this site. While everyone else seems to be arranging threesomes with bisexual Penthouse models, I increasingly find myself trawling the Miracle Mile for a homeless amputee willing to go short time for 1,000 baht. Life isn’t fair.
That set me thinking about whether I had ‒achieved” anything unique among Bangkok’s monger community. Finally, I came up with something that at least I have never read about here: I got laid in an Ayutthaya karaoke bar.
Call it fate or serendipity, but here’s how it happened. About one year ago, I hopped on the train from Bangkok to Thailand’s ancient capital in search of temples, ruins and backpackers carrying Lonely Planets and bottles of water. Sadly, the Burmese had got there before me in 1767 and trashed the place. Yes, there were ruins, but a pile of old stones is, well, a pile of old stones. It was baking hot and eventually I gave up archaeology and cooled down with some beers in Tony’s Place and the Moon Bar.
The bars were pleasant but devoid of attentive hostesses. I was feeling less than handsome. By 6pm, I was bored and decided to head back to Bangkok. I hailed a tuk-tuk to the railway station, bought a ticket (the 15-baht fare for an 80-kilometre journey might explain why the State Railway of Thailand is mired in debt) and then realised the next train was not for another hour. I decided to go for something to eat at one of the many restaurants in a street facing the railway station.
That was where I met Chai, a Thai hustler of remarkable skill. He was standing outside his family’s guesthouse/restaurant greeting the many Japanese tourists in their own language and addressing everyone else in English. ‒Come and have a beer while you wait for the train,” he shouted at me. I agreed.
Within minutes, I had agreed to his cheeky request to share my bottle of beer. That set the tone for his parasitic behaviour. I told him that Ayutthaya seemed rather lacking in nightlife. He laughed and said I needed to travel three kilometres to the new city for that. ‒I will show you if you want,” he said. I ripped up my 15-baht train ticket and he showed me to my 150-baht room.
When you go out with a Thai – male or female – you know who will be picking up the bill. As a millionaire farang enjoying Thailand’s many delights, your wallet is going to see more action than a Pattaya bargirl when the American Navy drops anchor. Chai and I had several more beers in the guesthouse before heading to the nightspots at 11pm. I paid the 500-baht tab and then for a 50-baht tuk-tuk to the new city that the backpackers have yet to discover.
First port of call was the AY Disco, a typically Thai place where the locals sit drinking rot-gut while watching a variety of entertainers bang out some full-volume dance music. Chai laughed as he showed me the disco’s two price lists – one for locals, the other inflated for foreigners – before I paid the 420-baht bill for our six beers. Then it was over the road to the Cowboy Bar, where there was more live music as we drank beer and had a meal. I paid the 640-baht bill.
As we walked around town, there seemed to be an incredible number of karaoke bars, all with hostesses sitting outside. There were no farangs around and it was pretty obvious that these were the places where the locals got their rocks off. A pretty girl took my eye. She beckoned us in and before we knew it we were upstairs with her and another girl, sharing beers and taking turns at Thai karaoke songs, spelled phonetically in English for my benefit. Chai enquired about prices for going upstairs for mattress gymnastics. Even here there was double pricing – 500 baht for Chai and 1,000 for me. Chai then passed out drunk – at least I would not have to pay for him to get laid.
After paying the 835-baht bill for the beers and karaoke, I left Chai snoring away and headed upstairs with my recruit. She led me into a simple massage-type room with about a dozen single mattresses divided only by curtains. All were occupied by busy couples. We then went into a second room with one vacant berth. As I undressed, two copulating couples were literally one foot on either side of me.
Then my hostess asked me to pay cash up front and for a small sum for condoms. This was a problem. After my nightlife tour with Chai, I had only 300 baht in my wallet. No problem. She led me downstairs and on a walk of shame to an ATM outside a 7-Eleven, where I withdrew cash and then bought condoms. Back in our less than romantic cubicle, the proximity of the other customers surprisingly gave me a buzz, perhaps because I was in a drunk but capable state. The sex was good. I have paid a lot more for a lot worse.
I went to wake up Chai. As we emerged into the darkness, it was nearly 4am but the entrances to the karaoke places were still thronged with girls. I read somewhere that 98 per cent of Thailand’s sex industry involves Thai customers. This scene in one small town seemed to be confirmation that Nana Plaza, Soi Cowboy and Patpong are but a pimple on the arse of the kingdom’s naughty nightlife.
We took motorcycle taxis back to the guesthouse. Chai’s arrived first and I half-expected him to wait for me to settle his fare, but he graciously paid up. His night out had cost 20 baht while mine set me back more than 3,500. There is an important moral to this tale: it can be cheaper to hire a go-go dancer in Bangkok than it is to have a night out with a Thai in the sticks.