Thailand Travel Log: Bar Hopping

Somewhere between when the time when the Thai ladies were trying on Mom's fake boob and when the weird little guy put a hot towel while I was urinating, I knew it was time to go home.

But I jump ahead in the story. We started out on Sunday night at an outdoor bar on the 60th floor of one of the high rises. You couldn't exactly say that we saw the sunset, but we were there as the haze faded from white, to pink, to dark blue, then to black. I don't remember the name of the hotel, but if you're ever here, just ask your concierge where the outside bar on the 60th floor is. He'll know. It's a nice place, that's worth a trip.

From there, we went to a place with blues music and a hamburger/barbecue type of menu.

We talked to a couple of band members during a break -- one guy was Scottish, the other was from northern Mississippi. The latter was one of those guys that you meet who instantly starts telling you some personal details about his life way too early in the acquaintanceship. Why do people do this?

From there, we headed to another bar in Pat-Pong. This was just across and down the street from the famous Super Pussy establishment, but you couldn't see the SP because of all of the vendors. I hadn't realized that there were non-dirty establishments on that street, but there are, and the one we went to even had some families in there. We went to this bar in Pat-Pong to see a sort of Elvis-looking performer. The band was entertaining, led by this chubby Thai Elvis with sideburns who didn't sing any Elvis tunes, but had the hip shaking bit down pretty well. I had a good laugh, and was able to shoot some video footage.

The last stop was a bar a couple of streets down from my parents, where they are regular enough to be well known by the staff. It is a stifling hot place, with a band in the corner. They keep the drinks coming for you, but give you a hard time if the necessity of not dropping dead from dehydration compels you to order water between every few beers. Mom has become very popular with the staff, and this was her first visit back since her surgery. Several waitresses pulled up stools to our table, and spent the evening sitting there with us, getting up only to bring more drinks to the table.

So that brings us to the try-out of Mom's boob. She calls the fake one "Swell," which in Mom's accent is pronounced "Sway-ull." She let the waitresses give it a go, so that they could see what it might be like to have three breasts. I'm not sure they came to a consensus about the best place for a third breast. Fortunately, I was playing pool with Dad and didn't have to witness this for myself.

Dad took the opportunity about this time to get the hell out of Dodge.

It was right after that when I was standing at a urinal (in the uni-sex bathroom, doing my own thing. For some reason, the bathroom attendant walked up behind me and placed a hot towel on the back of my already sweaty, hot neck. Talk about something that will dry you up in heartbeat.

When something like this happens to you, your immediate reaction is to want to push the guy away. The problem is that your wiener is still sticking through the zipper hanging out there in the open, so you can't really turn around. I had to make do with, "NoNoNoNoNoNo." He went away. By the time I got the liquid flowing, got zipped up, and turned around, he was nowhere to be seen. I think that was best for both of us.

When I reported this incident back at the table, Mom actually asked if I had tipped him. Tipped him. You've got to be kidding me. I'm still indignant about that suggestion.

Singing and drinking continued for a few more hours. Unlike my last trip here, bars in Bangkok have to close at 2:00 now. Let me just say, thank God for that.