In the early 20teens a band by the name of Florence and the Machine made a song called “The Dog Days are Over.” She must not have been talking about Bangkok whoremongers, whose summer days and nights are as predictable as monsoon season.
These days this dog is still finding his revamped redlight system. It’s something like: NanaP for Twister and Whiskey, then Pong or: Cowboy for Rainbow and Dollhouse, then Pong or: Patpong only. Every night it’s one of those options. And it’s not just because that’s where the Pong/exPong girls are. I’d love to hit other gogos. But each time I do, I’m disappointed. And that’s not to say everyone would have the same experience. For tourists and the uninitiated, every gogo is a spectacle. But as a local, and a jaded punter, and a monger with very high standards, I can’t justify burning cash in boring joints with ugly girls.
So it’s 2 gogos in Nana or 2 in Cowboy followed by 4 or 5 onPong. Or if I’m feeling frisky, 2+2+4 in an epic three-RLD soiree. If The Strip reopens, and if they don’t hire criminals to run it, maybe some wayward Pong girls will come back to the fold and eliminate the need to hit one of the faraway locations. Here’s hoping, because to add insult to idiocy, something happened last week that soured the taste of Nana for me, perhaps permanently. More on that later.
In the meantime, I’ve been slowing down. It’s too hard to keep up a 2-3 RLD pace Sunday to Saturday. I decided—for the umpteenth time—to try to spend at least a couple nights per week on the couch. On Sunday I nipped out to Shenanigan’s in the afternoon for a Drew Estate 20 Acre and a Black and Smooth. John, the owner, was there so we had a catchup. As I bade him farewell, he asked, “What’s your plan for the evening, then?” I said I was staying in for the night, and went home. But when my harem girl phoned to say she wasn’t coming, that’s when the itch set in, and Bowie started up singing inside my head again….”I know when to go out, and I know when to stay in.” And so I gave in and hit the Pong at 21.15. The black/white lingerie rotations were on in King’s 1. I counted four new girls in black and zero newbies in white. Offy, Ice, and Praew—my usual K1 companions—weren’t on hand. Of all the gogos in Bangkok, King’s Castle 1 has the largest roster of hotties (rostties for short, copyright BKK7). Nobody else comes close. The next biggest hotgirl contingent is in Red Dragon in Nana Plaza. Next is probably King’s Corner, then Billboard. After that, the numbers drop precipitously. But the following bars have at leas half a dozen lookers: Whiskey-n-Gogo, Pink Panther, Bada Bing, Butterflies, and Rainbow Soi Cowboy. Dollhouse has four or five. Apart from this list, you might find one or two hotties in a joint, if you’re lucky. Shark Soi Cowboy has one single cute girl.
After K1 I jammed to King’s Corner and then Pink Panther. In between, I stopped and picked up an indica brownie for 200 baht to help me fall asleep faster. It was delicious. I paired it with a vodka-soda in the Panther where none of my galpals bothered to come to work. Still, there were five PYTs to ogle while imbibed of that combined elixir. I asked the sales lady in the ganja shop if the brownie was strong. She said, “You eat one, you sleep.” 19 minutes after scarfing it down, the Panther started to spin. Then the night became a race to get into bed before the brownie took full effect. I can’t remember now but I think I got a mototaxi straight home after Pink Panther.
Despite resolving to stay in on Mondays from now on, I Ponged again on Monday, though it wasn’t my fault. My harem girl said she’d be late, and I had no food in the house, and also my earbuds broke. Three reasons is more than enough to excuse a quick Ponging. I grabbed some kow pad and sat outside K1 with a 100b Leo draft. From my vantage point, I caught sight of a Muslim woman decked-out in a full burqa walking through the Night Market. I’ll never understand what draws these religious extremists to the most sexually-charged areas of Bangkok. You’d think they’d want to put as much distance as possible between them and the redlight.
After scarfing down my rice, I ducked inside King’s to find the stage only half full at 20.07. Two rotations of 10, which for some bars would be a lot. In King’s, it’s a paltry showing. King’s Corner had two sets of 15, all in red like a late Valentine’s Day gift. Pink Panther was packed with poon. On my way out, I stopped at the ganja place just outside Panther and got some gummies, just to compare it to the brownie experience from Sunday. I ate three, and though they didn’t come on as fast, the mellow mood lasted longer.
On Wednesday I was kept home by a lazy harem girl who refused to leave. It felt uncomfortably like a “Netflix-n-chill” date. The only way my life maintains structural integrity is if the girls don’t get too attached. One of ‘em already calls herself my girlfriend, despite my protestations.
On Thursday I hoofed it out to NanaP, hitting WhiskeyGG at 2015. Beer had already been barfined by an old bald Asian dude. But Earn, Sai, Ya, and 5 more ex-XXXers turned the stage into a sexy collage. Sai let me rub the soft spot between her thighs for half an hour. Then I hopped down to Twister to sit with Oil while she ate kartohm, and then watched Nat put on a pole show, with her thigh-high boots and big leg tattoo.
Nana now has huge “NO PHOTO” signs everywhere. It’s such a weird rule in 2023, when everyone and everything is on social media. The girls post photos of themselves in Nana. The bars have their own PR photogs (well some do. One shithead—who incidentally is a terrible photographer—has a photo monopoly which means anyone who doesn’t hire him is shit out of luck). How do the Nana folks not realize that any photos in the Plaza constitute free publicity? It boggles the mind.
And in a new evil twist—Oil (who’s often the subject of my pics) got a 7-day work suspension for the crime of being in a photo I took of her eating her kartohm. Someone please tell me how in the fuck a photo of a girl eating soup could pose a threat to Nana Plaza? And what fucking sense does it make to suspend her? A single mom trying to keep a roof over her kids’ head? She didn’t take the photo. All she did was eat pork with a spoon. It’s nothing short of immoral, and it’s put me off Nana in a big way. It’s simply not worth enduring the nazi-like security, long taxi ride, and high prices to visit two bars with 8 exPong girls in them. I’d rather just wait till XXX Lounge and The Strip reopen (which will hopefully happen soon). When the con’s of a redlight outweigh the pro’s, it’s time to stop going. Oil also asked me to delete all previous tweets of her on the Twister terrace, so apologies to the thousands of you who enjoyed seeing those. A common hazard in Thailand is retards in positions of power. Is there any logic to their edict? Of course not. Was it all instigated by a lowlife cunt who couldn’t stand seeing other people taking photos of girls in the Plaza? Yepper. He’s the one to thank for denying you that cool glimpse of nightlife.
At any rate, speaking of Oil, she was waiting for a phone call from her sister to come to the hospital, where her mum was receiving treatment for heart palpitations. I paid her barfine so she could head over there to be with her family. And in case you’re thinking, “Aw, what a good guy,” please don’t. I’m not. It’s simply that I owe karma more than I could ever pay back for this redlight life. A thousand sick mums and barfines wouldn’t even-out my universe. I live a charmed existence and can’t ever forget that. For that reason, I’ll always pay it forward…to gogo dancers.
On Friday I wasn’t ready to give up on Nana, so I hit Twister to buy a couple soju’s for Oil and hang with Puy for a bit. Everyone was on edge over the photos fiasco. It’s further proof that Thais make bad business decisions. From there I went straight to Whiskey to lounge with my exXXX friends. Beer practically tackled me. She wilted into my lap like a hothouse flower while Earn and Pu shook their asses onstage and watched with envy as I bought drink after drink for Beer. Then she said she wanted french fries and suddenly three bar staff appeared, all asking for fries. It reminded me of that Kanye West song: “OK get yo kids, but then they got their friends…we all went to din’ and then I had to pay.” So I got four orders of fries, paid and bailed before more girls could run over and ask for dinner money.
From there it was a mo’taxi ride t’Pong. There’s nothing like a late-night motorbike ride through the streets of downtown Bangkok to remind you you’re not dead yet. Those yaba-and-Chang-infused taxi drivers ride the edge like death is just a hiccup on the road to nirvana. I made it to King’s 1 in time for a bottomless show. There were two rotations of 30 girls. It was an absolute zoo. K1 puts nearly every other gogo bar to shame. Only Billboard and Butterflies come close.
Bada Bing had two rotations of 12. ‘Twas a wall of tits and ass. Half the girls were new. Then I rocked up to Pink Panther, which was teeming with girls and had only a couple open seats. As I was leaving the Panther I was surprised to see a brand new bar just behind Panther’s outside seating area where a photocopy shop briefly was. It’s run by the former papasan from The Strip and had many ex-Strip girls playing hostess for the punters therein. And in more good Pong-related news, Radio City is finally getting some recognition. It was raging on Friday, with 20 customers and some new hotness.
On my way home, I stopped at a ganja kiosk situated near the side entrance to Domino’s and got a brownie for 400 baht. It was pricey, but worth every satang, because it was so strong that I was underwater after eating half. I stashed the rest in the fridge for a later date and plunged into dreamland the second my head hit the pillow.
On Saturday I woke up with a bad case of arthritis in my foot and so didn’t leave my apartment. It’s partly why this week’s YouTube slideshow is so short. I lost a night of mongering.
And that’s how the week ended. With a whimper. And aside from some great news like the Patpong Soi 2 bars reopening, these weekly posts are going to look like carbon copies of each other. Maybe it’s time to venture beyond just the redlights. You know, I’ve never even been to Khaosan. Crazy, right?
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/
Photos of everything in this blog can be found in the YouTube slideshow companion for this post 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 frequent the food court at the Patpong Night Market and you see a new vendor, buy something. It doesn’t matter what they’re selling. Try it. Because you don’t know if it’ll still be there in a week. Last week an ice cream truck showed up, taking the place of the pork noodle soup truck from the week before. Get busy tryin’ or lose out.
