How’s it hangin’ reader? Are you living the dream in Thailand like this bloated blogger? Or are you stuck in a different country, living vicariously through posts like this and/or planning your hedonist’s holiday? Either way, I hope all is well with you. Personally, I’m gearing up for Valentine’s Day, where I will try to please six regular harem girls (the 2nd string gets nothing, sorry-not-sorry) in one 24-hour period. Thankfully, I can get all my V-Day-related shopping done at the stripper shop in Patpong (see the photo in this week’s slideshow companion–link below). So, in this calm before a sexy storm, let’s look back at the redlight week that was.
For me, that meant 6 nights in the Pong. I’d planned to get over to NanaP but couldn’t pull it off, mainly because I’m really bored with the food options on Soi 4, and also because of something I call the Redlight Rinse. That’s where one or more gogo dancers and/or bar staff accost a customer, harassing them for drinks, pummeling them with irritating mooching until said customer is forced to flee. This happens every time I’m in Red Dragon, Tycoon, and Geisha. Billboard doesn’t do it. Neither does Spanky’s but I suppose it’s because I’m a familiar face in those places. Speaking of Nana, a prominent member of the corporate juggernaut that runs the Plaza quipped on social media last week, “Is Patpong making a comeback?” Evidently he’s not one of the 11 people who read my blogs. Yes buddy, Patpong is back. In fact, in terms of foot traffic, Patpong is destroying Nana Plaza, thanks to the Night Market, beer garden, and food stalls. Is it translating to more butts in booths at gogo bars? Not entirely. But the ole Pong is rocking once again. And speaking of prominent Bangkok nightlife personalities, if you happen to read another blog—namely, the oldest-running and (inexplicably) most popular one on the internet—and if their Pong-related stuff sounds suspiciously similar to the writing style and content of a certain pudgy Pong punter….you’re not crazy and it’s not a coincidence. Just, y’know, a little inside baseball between you and me. But I digress.
This old mutt has taken up a new redlight routine. I gets meself out early, yeah, and slip into a chair outside King’s Castle to have some Derby King dinner delivered and watch the zoo animals—I mean, tourists walking by. In actuality, I’m the zoo animal, sitting there with a cigar between my teeth, sharing a plate of kow pad with a gogo dancer who’s cackling at my jokes, my hand betwixt her thighs. The tourists gape unabashedly at us. I’m not gonna lie, it amuses me. The resentment and envy on the faces of women and their husbands, respectively, makes my heart swell. Not to mention the wild curiosity in the eyes of boys and girls alike. It’s something of an initiation for the young, this smashing together of two worlds, and an excuse for dads to get an eyeful of what they’re missing whilst pretending to be shopping for shoes. In every case, I’m just another object of wonderment—something to baffle the riffraff while they gnaw at some meat on a stick.
On Monday, a new ganja shop opened on Soi 2 next to the entrance to Pink Panther. It’s a prime location, since it’s also one of the northern entrances t’Pong and a stone’s throw from Shenanigan’s. Weed smoke wafts into the Panther in waves. I got a contact high just from sitting in the gogo.
On the night, there was a gaggle of new hotness in King’s Castle. I counted 7 rocking bodies—a redlight record for a Monday. Speaking of hot, some of the best-looking girls have figured out that the tourist traffic through Pong gogos doesn’t really get going until after 21.00 so they routinely show up late for work. A clever monger looking to barfine should hit the redlight around half-eight to either A—get a free run at the early girls and/or B—be poised to snag a hottie on arrival. For an old fart like me who doesn’t barfine, 9 pm just means more eye candy. Speaking of old and not barfining, I was outside K Castle, sitting with a gang of off-duty dancers when an old bald fart sidled up to one of the girls and spent 10 minutes negotiating a future short-time meetup. He didn’t spend a baht on drinks, just laid out the proposal before she even clocked in. Then when she got up to start work, he actually kissed her hand (to her befuddled bemusement) and then pushed on, his bald head glistening under the beer garden lights. Was the old coot a Cheap Charlie or master monger? Probably both.
Delaney’s food kiosk opened on Monday, selling made-to-order Pinsa. Not pizza—pinsa. The difference is in the dough—48% less sugar, 85% less fat, 33% fewer carbs, and zero colesterol. Oh, and they taste amazing. I had a ham and fungi pie whilst sipping red wine and watching an acoustic set in Delaney’s. Pretty hi-so for the Pong.
Later, I circled back to K Castle but there were no open seats so I plopped down outsideagain. There were two couples in the beer garden who were sitting there when I passed by 2 hours earlier. I can’t imagine what would possess people to sit in plastic folding chairs for that long a time. Then again the dudes had white girls with them, which meant there was no fun to be had in the redlight. Maybe it was inertia that kept them there—too reluctant to leave the eyeline into King’s. Speaking of farang couples, the beer garden gives me the chance to observe these human animals, a demographic I’d normally never have contact with. Within minutes of observing them, one can determine how long they’ve been together, who wears the pants, whether one is bored with the other, who’s not getting enough sex, who’s angry they came t’Pong (spoiler alert: it’s always the female). One pair of bland beer drinkers sat across from each other and didn’t say a word to each other for 20 minutes. Another duo stared at yours truly for an uncomfortably long time. Another thing I’ve seen a lot of lately are decent-looking guys with hideous women. Why is that, I wonder? Is it that the dude aimed too low? Or did the girl stop taking care of herself once she snagged her man? Either way, it’s not hard to figure out why those guys chose to take their sow shopping in the only market that is also a redlight. The males all do the same thing—distract their porker in order to make furtive glances in gogo doorways: “Oh honey, look at that lovely Buddha painting” followed by a one-second glimpse that will have to serve as fodder for a lifetime of fantasies.
On Tuesday I was back to take in the Soi 1 mayhem again. Post plandemic, when the gogos were open but there were no tourists, the dancers got used to parading around outside the bar in their knickers. Now the mamasans throw kimonos over them as the exit, so as not to offend the sensibilities of the more vanilla market shoppers passing by. That doesn’t stop them from gawking in amazement, though.
In XXX Lounge, the hot hitters were back. I was glad to see they didn’t just work weekends. Over the course of a few hours, I watched a girl get barfined twice. She must’ve made around 10 grand in one night.
On Wednesday, I took a seat outside King’s Castle and ordered another Derby King dinner. My friend Som was sitting there, so we ate together. She said that on the night before, there was a brawl between K Castle girls and some dancers from Radio City. Over what, I couldn’t decipher, but everyone was till on semi-high alert. In the end, no further action occurred.
Here’s an example of what I call a #Thailandproblem: I get paid on the 1st of the month, and from there I keep a very sensible budget, allocating a set amount that I can reasonably spend per week. But then, it’s a game of how long I can stay within those parameters before it blows up. If I go over by even a hundred baht, I say “Well, I failed again. Might as well go crazy.” This usually happens around the 11th each month and usually because a girl asks to borrow money, which is what happened on Wednesday when my number 1 harem girl messaged to say that her very expensive Boston trainers were stolen from the rack outside the door of her uni dorm room, and asked for money to buy a new pair. I asked her why in the everloving fuck she left her very expensive trainers on a rack outside her room. She said it was because her dorm is too small and the shoes don’t fit. And yes, that’s fucking retarded, but if you saw this girl naked, you’d understand why anyone would put up with her. Her body is nearly perfect, in the way that Sports Illustrated Swimsuit models’ bodies were perfect in the 1980s. Which reminds me…when I was a teenager, there were a lot less fat people. At my high school, our graduating class had one fat guy and one fat girl. That’s all. In current year, fatties account for a majority of people waddling around. And I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t also plaguing the gogo stages of Bangkok. If the problem worsens, I’m going to call for military intervention.
On Thursday I was back in XXX Lounge with another bottle of avocado juice from the food court to once again attempt to make a Holy Guacamole (throwback to last week’s post), this time with tequila. After a fiasco with too much salt on the rim, I tested it on 5 girls and myself. The overall consensus was…it was pretty good.
Earlier that afternoon, I finally got around to checking out Maison Du Vin—a wine bar inside the Mahanakhon Cube. I’d been worried they might have a dress code and that I wouldn’t be allowed in, given that my usual garb is a style I call “homeless casual.” The manager said I can don whatever I want, so I think I might be dividing my time between this place and the Pong from now on. As an out-of-practice wine snob, the joint opens up a whole forgotten world. And given the quality of the wines, the prices are surprisingly reasonable, with a couple choice deals for anyone with a keen eye.
On Friday while in Black Pagoda, the manager mentioned that from now on, BP will run a happy hour deal from 19.00 to 21.00: 100b well drinks, Singha, Chang, and Leos. I celebrated with a Vodka-soda and a quick ass-grab of my pal Best, who was back at work after a few days’ absence. The reason Best’s ass is partially turned away from the camera in the photo of her ass in the slideshow companion for this post (link below) is because her left cheek is bruised. Why bruised? Because she and her friend Nat crashed their motorbike last week. In fact, any time there’s a bruise, or scratch, or scar on a gogo dancer, there’s a 99% chance it’s from a motorbike crash.
On Saturday I’d just arrived onPong when I got a message from a harem girl that she was en route to my apartment. I had time for one cocktail in Radio City and a cup of ice cream from a new food stall vendor doing Coldstone-style (for any American readers) fare before high-tailing it back home to pop a kamagra, shave the balls and sweep potato crisp wrappers under the couch. And that’s how this crotchety clungemonkey wound-down the week.
In other news, vapes are now public enemy number one in Bangkok (until next week when the public forgets about it) thanks to a recent media kerfuffle. A buddy of mine who’s on the wagon and really needs his nicotine scoured the back alleys of Patpong and Sukhumvit looking for a vape. They’ve all been scrubbed from the street market stalls. It took him a whole 20 minutes to find one, proving that all ruffled feathers are just pretense. That’s Thailand for you.
If you’re looking for something to do next Friday, on 17 February the Patpong Warriors will host a mini bar crawl. For 1900b all-in, you get free-flow booze at The Strip, XXX Lounge, and Black Pagoda, plus vouchers for lady drinks at each stop, a ‘Warriors’ t-shirt, and other goodies.
And finally, it what can only be described as a governmental miracle, Bangkok has finally caught up with the United States circa 1970 and installed public trash cans and recycling bins around town, proving that politicians are not in fact totally useless.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of red-light events. In the meantime, you can read more about Bangkok life on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Redlight videos and slide shows, including the companion for this post, can be found at
https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
If you’re in a generous mood, you can donate anytime at https://www.buymeacoffee.com/bangkok7
Follow me on Twitter @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: If you’re a husband or boyfriend who’s brought your ball and chain with you to Thailand, and if you want to get a little clandestine side action in Patpong, your best bets are Black Pagoda and the upstairs bars of Soi 2. BP has a VIP area above the bar that most customers never even notice is there, and the upstairs bars blend in with the various gay bars. Your wife will never think to look for you there. Unless by some miracle, she somehow reads this post. Good luck.
