Big Mango Bar
drink and blog

Back to Basics by Hunch644

Posted by Hunch644 | Blog, Reader Submissions | Posted on February 6th, 2010

I’ve read a few posts here recently about folks feeling jaded with Thailand, P4P and associated activities. I’ve experienced MF (monger’s fatigue) myself on recent trips, and have decided it can and should be avoided. Disappointing experiences, Diminishing returns – they all erode the fantasy-world we stumbled wide-eyed into the first time….so what to do? Re-framing or putting things in perspective helps. Easier said than done, I know. But this time I decided I was going to give it a try – appreciating the simple stuff and being more mindful of the things that make The Kingdom so damn great….
Increasingly dissatisfied with life in Farangland, the bi-annual trips to the Land of Smiles are serving as almost sole shots in the arm for my monk-like existence. I tried joining the Vienna Conservatoire and the Bolshoi Ballet, but they won’t have me.

November 16th 2009 15.30pm. A sex-pat rush-hour confluence as flights swamp the Swamp. Eva-Air are obviously the playground wimps at Suvarnabumi, and my nonce-fuelled speed-walk from Gate 10294 to passport control proves fruitless – every line goes waaaaayy back. I join one – and soon get jostled by some Israelis. They’re squaddies, they’re assholes, and they’re trying to line-jump. It’s a tricky situation. I’m no hard-case, and not dumb enough to start anything within touching distance of my goal, not least with 5-6 Krav-Maga nuts, but this lot are such charmless pond-life that my Uptight Farang Mode, normally disabled by this point, is re-armed. This Gentile Stands Firm. Ye shall NOT pass though me into the Promised Land!! I’m bear-hugging the poor guy in front of me lest these smelly thugs get a toe-hold. Eventually, an Immigration Officer makes a new lane and the bozos rampage across. However, their line doesn’t move and in moments I’m free of them forever……

I like the ride from the airport and today I love it. I get a warm glow as the skyscrapers loom into hazy focus. I practice my new skill of counting in Thai and something happens when I say ’sii-sip-haa’ to the driver as we approach the toll. It’s probably my imagination, but the meter seems to run slower after that. He also throws me a bone. ‘Thailand hab many many lady,’ he leers. Where else in the world do you find such helpful cab-drivers and other citizens so ready to pimp their womenfolk?

Hotel. Dump bag, change money and stroll down to Lumphini – ahhhhh, great to be here again. On way back, stop at the soup-shop for the first bowl of duck kwai jaap, a.k.a ‘35 baht worth of heaven’. The 12 year old girl running the shop laughs at the dumb Farang slurping and grinning like a total fool.

The first night means Patpong – its close to the hotel, beer is expensive enough to ensure I wont go nuts and the Go-Gos are terrible enough…. to ensure I wont go nuts. I enter a Kings Castle Go-Go, to see how long before I’m braced by a ladyboy for a lady-drink. About 24 seconds. Aggressive bar-fine request tactics follow – 40 seconds. I check-bin, laughing, saying ‘I come back, wait for me!’. I finish my beer, though. Next, Muzic Café Bar. Pulled a cracking MILF here 18 moon ago. Tonight, I’m getting whisky glares. The band is good – faultless 5 part harmonies and some note-perfect Steely Dan covers. Where can I see a band like this for free at home? Even the BeeGees can’t do ‘Staying Alive’ that well (I watched Messrs Gibb make a right pigs cock of it on TV the week before). But I didn’t come here to listen to Castratos. Onward to the bar on the corner of Patpong 2/Surawong – the Pink Panther. There’s always plenty girls here whenever I visit, a few decent-looking, I’m surprised it’s never mentioned. After dismissing the lady-drink demands of the girl who dragged me in, another girl arrives. She works the kinks out of my back. Quite skilfully. Okay – LD. She’s taller than average, light-skinned and if I squint, looks like a friend’s girlfriend who works at the U.S Embassy. Barfine? ST? Mais-oui! It’s only about 11pm and I’m plane-shafted. After a good roll around, she re-dresses in front of me and I really enjoy watching her gorgeous figure as she parades in her underwear. As she waves and clacks off down the corridor, I ruminate: That’s why I keep putting off my trip to Eygpt.

Next night, I check out Gullivers. Same old place – quite a few girls coming/going. Is it really so bad in here? I realise that I never sat outside so I grab a table next to the road and order a burger. The passing sights/freak-show is good, and the burger, when it arrives, is really good. Smiles aplenty from freelancers entering and leaving. I’ll do this again.

On to Nana Plaza. I attempt to recall the latest reviews I read before my flight, but no. Let’s just roll the dice. Rainbow 1 it is. A stage full of black-bikini’d nubile things. To me, it does not look bad. And after ten minutes, a Nana ST hotel is about to be 300 baht richer. It turns out to be one of those times where the girl seems to actually like you, and you feel the same. Of course it’s all about the dosh, but some of them at least make some effort with the charade. My barfine has a fascinating hairstyle – held up with all sorts of pins, clips, etc. I essentially get to star in my own porno for the next 40 minutes and manage not to pierce my johnson on one of the chopsticks in her hair. ‘I happy’, she says at the end, somewhat beyond the call of duty.

No trip of mine to Bangkok proceeds too far without a lunch visit to the wonder that is MBK’s 6th floor food court, where 200 Baht buys all manner of delights. Whatever you don’t spend can be refunded. It’s only when I come to Thailand I realise how lame Thai food is elsewhere. A simple plate of Phad Kee Mao – wide strip rice noodles, pork, Thai basil, Thai broccoli and a gravy sent from the Gods – tastes soooo good, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Even by Thailand/Bangkok standards the nosh here is good (a Thai friend assures) and to date, I’ve worked my way around most kiosks with joyous abandon.

Later that evening, its Soi Cowboy. I walk in, around and straight out of Tilac. I barfined a nice one here last time but tonight it’s crammed, and the garish lights and colours assault my senses. Back down the street and into Baccara. A few spare seats, fair-to-middling talent. After a while I notice one with that look – you know – quite pretty but unusual/interesting features. Good dancer too. She hops down, I buy LD. ‘I dunk’ she informs. She’s decent fun, so after a time, I barfine and lay out the deal – ST and ST hotel. ‘I not know ST hotel in Soi Cowboy’, she whines. Really? Well, toots, you’re in luck because I DO. It’s that hotel-shaped building with the big tiled staircase at the corner of Cowboy/Asok that you walk past every day. (Actually, that staircase is an example of Thai craftiness – the clever layout and high parapet granting privacy to ardent mongers as they scamper up the steps of shame with their squeeze)

I’d call myself observant but I don’t know what happened here – it’s only after some 20 mins in Baccara that I gaze upwards and see it – the see-thru floor. Even to the seasoned P4Per it’s a mesmeric sight first-time: 10-12 girls above me dancing in tiny netball skirts and no panties. I’d read about it but forgot it was in this place. My little Tequila Pixie follows my eyes, smiles, and offers to go up there for me. What a wonderful wonderful country.

The Cowboy ST hotel is cleaner and less seedy than the others I’ve been in. I might almost say it’s a pleasure to use. However, no sooner do I carry my BF across the threshold when she starts acting up. ‘I not like it here, not private’. I constructively tell her off for reneging on the deal after so much outlay thus far. She sees I’m quite willing to pull the plug at this point and soon packs in her crap. ‘For being so bad, you will not shower’, I tell her. She’s nonplussed but agrees and thus I get to indulge by stealth in two of my fetishes at no extra cost – 1. GoGo-fresh perspiring skin; 2. Nice matching underwear sets. We all know Thai girls’ sudden shyness and the White Towel Show. But I like Lingerie, you see. She’s a trouper this one, and seems to go along nicely with my pathetic schemes. She’s wearing sumptuous translucent red-with-black-lace-trim bra and panties…..A while later, we descend the steps. ‘Thank-you for showing me ST hotel’, she totters. ‘You’re absolutely welcome. It’s tough work, etc.

Next day, move hotels to Nana Soi 4 in prep for taxi-run to Pattaya. Hotel is The Royal Ivory – walking-distance to action but far enough out of earshot at night. Room very decent, breakfast is a crap-shoot, but I order pancakes and they’re good NY diner standard – bizarre. Thus fortified, I sauntered down Soi 4 for some fare-haggling. I soon snared a pleasantly shady Laotian and after a ludicrous opener he moved with glacier-speed down to 1300. I chewed him down to 12-all-in. He loved it.

Taxis in Bangkok, don’t you love ‘em? I never have a problem at night. They use the meter and go the right way. In the day-time it all goes shitways for me. ‘Aaaww. Khao San velly far. 200 baht’, etc. etc. I move hotels 2-3 times during a stay and it’s always a ball-ache. I’ve learned to keep my bag/case on the back seat for quick exits without payment when they start their tricks. Other than hotel moves, I leave cabs alone during the day. The Skytrain and MRT are cheap, clean, fast and crammed full of eye-candy. I don’t mind the odd hike on foot either, as it affords the chance of stumbling on something unexpected. But best of all are the Chao Praya riverboats and the canal boats on the San Saeb. Commuting on these things is almost a joy. On the express boat (yellow flag, a few baht more) you get a free tour commentary. One of the guys is stone nuts. He has me rolling in the aisles each time with his super-camp, unintentionally comic routine. Ditch the cabs in the day…..

By night four, I had run out of excuses and it was finally time to visit the Big Mango bar we all read about. I cautiously approached, peering in as I passed by to the end of the Soi. I didn’t notice anything untoward, so I backtracked, pulled open a quaint, slightly warped wooden door and went inside. A peaceable atmosphere and friendly staff. I ordered the T-Bone. I wasn’t expecting Keene’s Chophouse for 220 baht but was very pleasantly surprised when it arrived. I gazed around, puzzling at the identities of the other patrons. Could that be Pmmp behind the bar, glancing at me surreptitiously? Another man, shaven head, mean-and-lean, fearsomely tucks into a plate of food. He’s wearing a weight-training belt over his shirt and jeans – surely BangkokBadBoy. At the far end of the bar, grazing on a cheeseburger … let’s see – under 30, looks like a gym regular, fashionable threads, time evidently spent on hair. Hasn’t accessorized, though, or been anywhere near a tanning studio….must be Combover. I had no time to puzzle further. A lovely young thing with large round eyes and a stunning smile was looking in my direction from the other side of the bar. Come hither, Le Jeune Pen….