a night out in BKK

On my last night in Bangkok, after a late afternoon nap, I gathered the troops, determined to generate some sanuk, the Thai word for "fun". I was determined to 1) check out the city, at nighttime, from the Skytrain, 2) hit up a rooftop bar and have a drink or two or few, no matter the bahtage (the currency here is the baht; get it!), and 3) despite my apprehension, check out the go-go bars in Patpong and maybe yack it up with a "pleasure girl" or two.

The first part of this simple quest involved getting from Banglamphu to Victory Monument, where I calculated the nearest Skytrain station entrance was. Problem was that it was a bit far away (about 3 kilometers), the streets on my map, even if I wanted to do this, were not clearly marked, so I had no choice but to get a chaffeur to take me there.

Once I walked away from my guesthouse, from the hulabaloo that was Th Khao San, the main tourist drag in Banglamphu, I wandered in the general direction of the station, waving off several tuk-tuk and taxi drivers that pegged me for a tourist. Even if I wasn't wearing my backpack, my beard or Latino looks were a clear giveaway, since I have yet to see any Thais, let alone Asian men, grow out a beard. In fact, I'm determined to find out if they even can (the Incas, my ancestors, por ejemplo, couldn't grow beards like the Spanish that eventually conquered them). But more on that quest later.

At one point, I told myself, "The next tuk-tuk driver to come along is yours", so I yielded the next one to drive up. When he asked where I was going, I said, "Victory Monument". He frowned, asked for a map, so I busted two out, including one of the surrounding area. Another tuk-tuk driver, interested in procuring my services, came up and they both consulted. They did the proverbial scratch of the noggin', shrugged their shoulders, and I grinned, said khawp kun kaa, and continued on. I had no idea where I was, but I continued.

I busted out my guidebook again and looked for another Skytrain station that maybe more recognizable to them. That did the trick because the next tuk-tuk driver (I don't even need to yield them) understood "Phaya Thai" and "Skytrain" and my pathetic armswoop to signify the motion of a train, and we were off.

It was my first tuk-tuk ride and it was outstanding, truly the way to go if you're looking for a means of transportation that is true and unique to this region. It was incredibly cinematic, the back of the driver's head alit in a luminous yellow from the bulb above him, the lights from the city's buildings casting pools of light and shadows on us as we swerved from lane to lane. The tuk-tuks have this dirty motorcycle noise to them, and the fact that they have what look like huge boomerangs as steering mechanisms instead of a steering wheel makes the whole experience even neater. It was a rush to sit at such a low level and turn and zip between cars and buses, dwarfed by them. We got so close that I could have easily stuck my arm out to tap one. I got a bigger kick when we turned behind a bus and ran smack into the thick plume of exhaust it emitted.

When we rolled up to the station, it was unmistakeble, even to someone like me who had never seen it. The driver, a man in his mid to late forties, was cute when he proudly turned back and said, "Skytrain?" I gave him his fare, graciously thanked him, and stomped up the stairs to the brightly lit station.

The Skytrain itself was neat. I had never been in the real heart of Bangkok and it was quite beautiful to see from the raised stations and metro trains. But most metropolises look more enchanting to me at nighttime anyway, like concrete sequoias with modest twinkling Christmas lights to gawk it.

I made my way across town to the Bangrak/Patpong district, where go-go bars have served horny and attention-starved foreign men for years. The one time I ever went to a Hooter's, I got nervous when I stepped in, so I knew I would be better equiped with some courage juice in my system before I made my way to the girly bars.

I went to this rooftop bar/restaurant off of one of the main drags. When I got up to the 20th floor rooftop, I was met with a vacant, inviting swimming pool. An empty poolside bar advertised some yummy, fruity concoctions. Behind that bar I could hear the sounds of some non-offensive, cheesy music, so I headed there.

Before me was an open area, with three lines of colorful lights, streaming from the stage, out to some poles along the roof's edge. A young Thai gentleman with a sleazy stache, dressed in a suit with some silly, white bowlerish shoes was crooning while his musical comrade handled the electronic beat and chords from his keyboard. They stood on an elevated platform with turf that looked like it was stolen from a miniature golf course. Behind them was a wooden, white canopy that looked like the kind they have wedding ceremonies in front of. At the other end of the roof were some tables with a handful of patrons, quietly eating their romantic dinners. I greeted the hostess and sat along the side, which was closest to their makeshift bar, overlooking the eastern part of the city.

I was determined to cop a buzz, for once on this trip, so I ordered a Singha beer and a Jameson on the rocks. The prices weren't that bad, though they were much higher then they usually are anywhere else in the city. To my dismay, the pour of Jamesons was poor, but my tummy was already growling (I had only eaten a modest plate of rice and various meats for lunch the entire day), so I figured shooting it, along with the beer, would at least give me a respectable buzz.

The song I walked in on was an English tune, though I couldn't recognize it. It was like glorified karaoke, since the overall production was super-cheesy. The fact that only one couple, sitting right in front of them, barely clapped, gave the entire scene a tragi-ridiculous vibe. I felt bad for the musicians. They had a mounted yellow light that pointed at the area in front of them, seemingly to induce any dancing aesthetics from drunken, spirited revelers. I laughed when I saw it go off the first few times. This was definitely not a raging dance club.

The first full song I heard was a playful poppy Thai tune, which had the singer wave his arm dramatically when he whooped out a "Woo!" during the chorus. I was enchanted by it. After the song, they left the stage to some handclaps from the woman sitting at the table in front of them. A few minutes later, the keyboardist stepped back on the turf stage and began to hammer out the unmistakeable opening chords to Lionel Ritchie's "Hello".

I about lost it when I recognized the song! For me, it was quite possibly the most perfect song to play at that moment. The rooftop restaurant/bar was formal and a bit posh, with only a few elder tourists there, so I refrained from screaming "Yaaaaay!!!" like my heart was inside, but I did have the biggest grin ever. As always, I was armed with my voice recorder so I set it down on the counter and recorded his rendition. He actually played and sung it well, though his English annunciation was tenative and a little to very off at times, which made the rendition all that much more charming. When the song ended, I gave him the loudest applause. A gorgeous female singer was ready to take the stage, and they both smiled in my direction. When they saw me leave shortly after, they were visibly disappointed, their biggest fan, splitting on them. On my way out, I snapped a picture of the city and sung the song to myself on the elevator ride down.

From there, I walked over to the go-go bars. There were two alleys, crawling with bar after bar. Of course, I happened to accidentally make my way to the gay male bars first. I only realized this after I noticed the flamboyant hand gesture one of the waiters made when opening the front door, along with all the men, occupying the tables and seats outside. I figured it was a gay bar when I saw nothing but men, especially a few with some young Asians, smiling at their older, white counterparts, who sat across from them with these hushed, slightly embarrassed looks on their faces. Surprisingly, no one hit on me.

I chugged my whiskey (I have vainly looked for Wild Turkey to no avail, thus far) and left. Surely these couldn't be the go-go bars mentioned in my guidebook!

I hit the jackpot on the next alley. I immediately became nervous when I saw a flock of ravishing, scantily clad Thai women, hovering by the entrances of the bars that lined both sides of the alley. I peeked into the first one to my right and saw some flashing lights, a bar, and a shadowy figure, twirl around a dancebar. I continued down the alley, looking for one that probably wouldn't have a cover charge, and one that wouldn't put me smack dab amongst some luscious titties and unbelievably beautiful women, wearing next to nothing. At that point in the early night, I wasn't even sure if I wanted that. At the very least, I knew I wasn't ready for that then, so I ambled on.

I walked past a few bars, all of them teeming with women, staring or beckoning me or any man to come in. I made my way near the end of the alley before I walked into one that didn't seem so extreme. I pulled up a seat at the bar and was promptly met by this woman who asked me what I'd like to drink. In more of an attempt to try and acclimate to whatever situation I was getting myself into, I asked if they had a menu of drinks, and she grabbed one. I think she could tell from the tone of my voice that I wasn't there to get laid. I ordered a beer, was served some beernuts (dinner at that point!), and was left to quietly drink and observe everything around me. Two stools down was this balding, chubby white guy in his late forties. He wasn't saying much but he, at one point, had three women, fawning over him, one at each arm. At times, he seemed more interested in the soccer match being shown on the TV, but that didn't stop the women from saying something to him, only to break into giggles when he gave them a quick response.

Beside the bar was a walkway with an entrance to a hotel (for "you know what"). Next to the fancy, sliding glass door hotel entrance were two bars. One, bathed in minimal redlight, was completely empty, except for the bartender and one patron. The other had no window to peer into but had a wooden, swinging door beside the sign of the bar. A young tranny-male (called lady-boys here) stood next to the entrance along with a Thai friend who puffed away on a cigarette. The bar was called "Pinochio's", and it had a drawing of two mischievous looking Pinochios, next to the title. I was curious to find out why it was called this, but I could already imagine its implications. Just before I finished my pint, the woman who greeted me left the British balding fellow and asked me something to the effect of, "You looking for sex?" I shook my head and said I was here to drink and left.

As I sat at the bar, I had told myself that I was going to hit two bars before I left, leaving on a high note with the strip club/bar I saw at the entrance. Unsure of where to go, I walked away from that bar and turned and saw one that was simply called "Lolita". It had a nondescript, shadowy entrance, tucked away from the others, so I was too curious and went in.