Nightlife in the Big City
A LOCAL TV CREW, excited for the latest update, spotted Nick and tried to interview him. Not a chance, the big man nipped behind a group of Arabs, whose flowing robes distracted the reporter. The newsman looked left and right, mentally picking his next victim to quiz on camera. Being in two minds, the reporter gave Nick the chance to escape. Instead, the news team captured an American serviceman - a much easier and doubtless more talkative target.
After recovering their composure outside the airport terminal, they, like the rest of the travellers, moved, getting into buses or taxis to escape the hectic mess. Swarms of police, military, and newspaper reporters buzzed towards the action.
'An accident, it could have happened anywhere.'
That was Nick's educated comment as sweat ran down his face.
Jammed for more than an hour in the traffic. Wedged, all going to or away from the smoke, they checked into the Miami Hotel. The greeting was cracked tiles and in need of a splash of paint. It's not the best and nowhere near Bangkok's premium accommodation. It was affordable. There are plenty of high-class hotels in Bangkok. There are far better hotels here, far swisher than Kev and Nick had ever stayed anywhere. The Miami was where you didn't worry about what to wear for cocktails - positioned off Sukhumvit Road, a busy city area for business and tourism. The road was not a great place to be stuck in a car. Also, not a place for walking around, the choice was slim. Kev recommended they stay put until the taxi pulled to the hotel's doors. They remained in the air-con comfort of the cab. Outside, it was sweaty hot; the pavements were often broken or cluttered. In the afternoons, sidewalks are packed with stalls. Selling fake designer clothing and the latest rip-off cassette tapes.
If you are not worried about safety, a motorbike taxi is usually the best choice for quick trips around town.
They headed for a welcome drink after dumping their bags, taking overdue showers, and perching themselves on the worn material of the bar stools. The first cold beer was gulped and drained in seconds. The very relaxed barman noted you could bring in girls or boys, or whatever you fancied, to be your guest. Nick scratched his beard.
'What does he mean?'
Kev knew he'd lived in the Kingdom for a month already; he knew the score. Nick would soon learn.
Before long, it became clear even to Nick. You did not need to bring nighttime companions in. Here, available girls were waiting for your signal to join them.
Two young ladies, well, not that young, in fact, older than the hotel, joined them at the bar. Touched the boy's thighs as they ordered a soft drink each, they added the cost to Nick's bill.
'See that? She meant to touch me?'
As Kev raised his eyebrows and gave his friend a quick nod.
The Singhas, Thailand's most popular beer for the boys and Pepsis for the girls went down. The drama at the airport was, if not forgotten, lodged in their brain's filing system for later.
The lads, urged by their new friends, decided to explore the city. They jumped into a Tuk Tuk, a three-wheeled taxi named after the sound they make. It's not the safest mode of transport, but it's fun, and after all, that's what they were looking for. They enjoyed the frenetic, dazzling neons. The sights of people with somewhere or nowhere to go. They appeared as if they might have something important to do. The ride felt fast, lively, bumpy and fun. They crammed into a jerky, weaving open-sided box on three unstable wheels.
The girls and Kev got out, leaving Nick to squeeze himself free and pay the fare. They went to the girl's usual place of work, the Grace Hotel's Coffee Shop.
It was loud, with four jukeboxes all playing different hit songs, one in each corner. Around sixty girls, all sitting demurely at tables, waiting and hoping to be noticed. With only twenty drinkers scattered amongst the hopeful hostesses. It looked like another night on their own for most.
Nick's friends in England knew he had little luck with the fairer sex. It staggered him that his companion was so interested in him. Every girl in the place seemed interested in him. Kev was feeling the effects of the alcohol in the strong Thai beer. He said it was not the beer; he was tired after a long day.
They moved on to see if they could discover a quieter place. After visiting a few more bars, which were pretty much the same, they decided to leave.
'Hello, handsome man.'
'Come inside, please,' shouted at any male walking past.
After a few more freezing Singhas, they wandered into a "sing a song" bar. Hidden in a small Soi, now this was a different drinking place. A big slap on Nick's belly. 'This is for us,' he said.
'The place for us.' Kev agreed as he led them in.
'Yeah, it looks like we'll enjoy ourselves here.'
It catered for Thais, the occasional ex-pat, but usually not tourists. They centred a low stage in a garden area with tables around the dance floor. Casually dressed waitresses with matching t-shirts served customers at their tables. You hire a garland of flowers from one of the staff who walked amongst the drinkers. Then, you place the flowers over the head and around the neck of the girl of your choice, and you dance with her. Dancers lined up, waiting to be picked. Often, a regular Thai punter who had escaped his wife for the evening. Foreigners rarely ventured very far away from the falang bars. This type of establishment has been popular in the Far East for hundreds of years but is very new to both Kev and Nick.
It seemed simple, but Kev and Nick had partners with them already. No way a Thai man would dream of taking his wife or girlfriend into a place like this. It was not the done thing to dance with someone else when you already had a companion with you. Not having seen a "sing a song" establishment, they wanted to experience "old nightlife". Not knowing the "rules", they were easily led.
'Kev, that girl fancies me. Look, she is smiling at me. Look at her. She is beautiful.'
The dancing girls were winking at them. The hotel ladies went to the "ladies". The boys attempted the "ram wong", a Thai classical dance. No touching your partner and performing correctly was a graceful dance. Their attempt was far from elegant. Kev did well to stay on his feet after a severe wobble, while Nick was not built for grace.
As the dance ended, Kev was finished, and Nick was struggling from his flight and all the excitement. The magic "girl magnet" power of the flowers, which they felt they possessed, had deserted them. Not only had the dancing girls deserted them, but the girls from the hotel had not returned from the toilet.
Judging, the only answer was to have one last beer before bed. They then discovered their wallets had gone too.
A polite inquiry to the tough-looking guy at the bar led to Nick being gently but firmly bounced onto the road. Nick was not about to take this lying down. But his legs failed him. Kev was already fast asleep, curled up next to the waste bins.
Sometime later, the first dawn light disturbed their less-than-beautiful sleep. The pair realised they did not know where they were, they didn't have enough money for transport, and their mouths tasted like the contents of the bins they slept next to.
'What is that stuck to my back,' asked Nick.
'I don't know, but I'm not touching it.'
Last night's entertainment centre seemed so welcoming and lively that it now appeared drab and tacky. Also, it was locked up, and nobody was in view. The "fragrant" pair decided the only thing to do was to walk. But where? The old saying "Follow your nose" comes to mind.
Sweat, Nick's pet hate, showed itself. First, damping his armpits, then appeared as droplets on his forehead. When rivulets of sweat rolled down his spine into the crack of his rear end, he was depressed.
'It is only 6.30 am; how could it be so humid?'
'This, my friend, is Thailand,' was Kevʼs jocular reply.
By more luck than judgment, they found their way to what looked like the main road. The pavement, which was crammed last night, was deserted. Except for street cleaners and a few people sleeping in shop doorways. Dogs were fighting over scraps of food discarded hours before. Kev and Nick skirted the hungry, scabby creatures. The four-legged ones, not the ones asleep in doorways.
Eventually, they encountered a lady opening her newspaper kiosk. She could only muster a few words of English, but she had a well-used map of the city. She pointed out where they stood and where the British Embassy was situated. It seemed it was well within walking distance.
Kev bought a Bangkok Post. By far the most popular English language newspaper in Thailand. As a "thank you" for showing them where to head. He had spent the last coins remaining in his pocket. It was only when they looked at the paper's front page that yesterday's events cleared the Singha fog. Pictures of the damage at the airport. It showed how close they came to being incinerated but little in the way of information in the report.
Police Captain Wattana said, 'It was an unfortunate accident. Luckily and incredibly, no one was injured. Damage to buildings and vehicles was huge. Reports of sightings of a parachutist leaving the plane were unfounded. Nobody has been arrested.'
Only later in the day did Kev wonder why a pilot was not mentioned. Surely, pilots have to log their flights. Would the report tell you if he was dead or alive?
After trying their "wais" again, they waved goodbye to the lady. They set off more in hope than expectation of finding a helpful soul at the Embassy at that time of day.
It was far too early for anyone to be working, but it was not too early for rain. It was the beginning of the monsoon season. And when it rains in Thailand, you will not be playing any cricket that day. The rain was a pain to Kev, but it was like all his happiest memories appearing at once to Nick. The rain cleaned him of dust, but it cooled him.
There was no shelter outside the Embassy, so they got wet. Eventually, a Gurkha guarding the place showed them to the beautiful grounds. Alas, not into a building. The meeting with an official at the Embassy, at least, was undercover. They were out in the fresh air, soaked, and they smelled far too bad to go inside the grand interior.
After reading and signing some papers, they were presented with five crisp 100 Baht notes. Nick explained that he had traveller's cheques back at the hotel.
'That's fine; you can either pay it back here, or the Embassy will claim the money back from your parents in England.'
Either way, they could afford transport to The Miami, and a very welcome breakfast.