Good God, reader. The fucking tourists, am I right? Three years of lockdowns and travel bans gave me near complete amnesia bout the nauseating aggravation caused by the influx of the unwashed masses. From dodging them on the street to getting stuck behind them in the queue to enduring their loud stupid conversations on the skytrain to their horrendous lack of decorum in the redlight, holidaymakers are easily the worst demographic in Thailand. I long for another pandemic.
The cunt tsunami (cuntnami for short, copyright BKK7) that began at the start of the month continued to raise the tide of tedium in Bangkok last week. And on top of that, the fucking APEC summit figuratively kicked the entire city in the balls. Street stalls were shooed away. Every other main thoroughfare was closed. Random black sedan caravans brought traffic to a standstill multiple times per day. On Thursday I was blocked from going to Nana Plaza by the useless APEC bullshit. Thank fuck it ended on Saturday. Here’s hoping they never ever return. Fucking to go Singapore from now on, APEC, you stupid cunts. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s how the week shook out for this weary whoremonger…
On Monday, I stayed at home with a harem girl. She showed up an hour late and stuck around long after her welcome wore out.
On Tuesday, I forgot to eat all day so I began the evening at 18.30 in Derby King (Patpong Soi 1) with cashew chicken, and scarfed it down so fast that on leaving, I was too early for the gogos. I stopped in to a local bar that during the plandemic was a quiet refuge where I was always sure to be alone. Now that Thailand is enveloped in a tourism supernova, the place is rammed to the rafters at all hours. The cacophony of noise in the joint was deafening. The mass of sweaty humanity completely overwhelmed the aircon system, creating a unique artificial ecosystem. ‘Twas hotter in the bar than out, so I quickly checkbinned with my pint glass still full. As the waitress picked up my bill, a dude on the other side of the place shouted an order for another whiskey-Coke and my server froze. Two years of no tourists apparently robbed some Thais of their ability to multitask or handle a crowd, and she short-circuited. She stood there for a few beats, unsure of what to do, until a bartender yelled “laew-laew!” at her and she snapped out of it. 10 minutes passed while I waited for my change, and when it finally came, I burst out the door still holding my half-full pint. That’s kind of been my new M.O. of late—walking around th’Pong with a pint or a cocktail in my hand, dipping in and out of the gogos. It’s something only a 10-year barfly veteran could get away with.
On Wednesday, I stayed home with a harem girl.
On Thursday, as I said, I tried to hit Nana but was thwarted by cunting APEC road closures. But there’s no problem that watching some bikini-clad galpals on the pole won’t fix, so my mototaxi driver diverted t’Pong of course, and I swung into XXX Lounge for some pretty placation. BFFs Sai and Bpai were in matching outfits and moods, both in good spirits. Earn is still mad at me for not making time for her in my harem schedule, but she only has herself to blame. She’s benched until she lays off the KFC. Little Nan has the opposite problem. In her daily decision between doing K and eating, she more often opts for the former and is wasting away before my eyes.
In other Pong trivial news, Musik live music bar is prepping to reopen. A crew of workers was busy wiping everything down, checking the circuit breakers, and trying to get three years of stank outta the place.
On Friday, I made it to NanaP to hang with my friends at Twister and hit the only two other worthwhile bars—Billboard and Spanky’s. BB was a madhouse. Standing room only by 21.15. The bar staff know me now, and kindly led me to the only remaining stool, setting my SML down before I even reached it. I counted around 60 girls, three of whom I’d barfine. There were a couple of one-week millionaires throwing 20s onto the carousel like their flight back to Chiswick was imminent. I’d guesstimate that ¾ of the dancers at BB fall into the 28-to-35-year-old age bracket. Which is fine, if that’s what you’re into. Hell, I’ve a 28-year-old in my harem. Granted, she’s been with me for 9 years. I wouldn’t take her on if we met today. Speaking of, I recognized two girls on the carousel that I barfined back in 2012. They’ve definitely aged-out.
When I first came to Bangkok in 2010, the hottest redlight was Cowboy. If you couldn’t get lucky there, you settled for NanaP. I didn’t even know about or see Patpong till 2012. My, how things have changed. Today, Nana is top dog, though for my taste (fit, young, pretty) Patpong has more options, and is a quirky kind of rabbit hole that’s not for the weak-willed. Cowboy doesn’t even rate. I popped over there on Saturday and my worst fears were confirmed. More on that later.
The gogos are being increasingly invaded by vanilla couples looking for…I’m not sure what. There were two in Twister and one in Spanky’s on Friday. Lucky Luke’s doing gangbuster business. By 22.00 they looked like a Walmart on Black Friday. Soi 4 is back to the crazy clusterfuck of pre-Covid days.
On Saturday, I started out the night on Soi Cowboy, after first having some kow man gai at Terminal 21 and a perusal of the tourist traffic. The Terminal was teeming, the Soi Suk sidewalk saturated. BTS: bursting. And Cowboy was crammed. I’m still surprised by that, considering there’s nary a single pretty girl on the whole of the soi. Tons of vanilla couples and white girls in pairs sauntering around taking photos and peeking in doorways, then settling in Oasis looking very much like fish out of water.
As I headed for Dollhouse, someone shouted “SeVEN!!!” from about 50 meters down the soi. It was Bee, who still works at Jungle Jim’s despite an offer from the owner of Black Pagoda to come work there. She’s clearly too pretty for a C-list handjob bar, though she assured me that as a coyote, she doesn’t have to jerk anyone off. She won’t work at BP because the girls there are mean to newcomers. I convinced her to check out Twister in Nana and asked her if Cowboy’s been busy. She said it gets crazy around 9 pm. I was there at 8 and the crowd was already approaching nuclear. Though as I’ve said in previous blogs, the numbers feel about the same as Pong, only squeezed into a space 1/5 as big.
Dollhouse has the best happy hour deal—95b Chang drafts. It’s the 2nd cheapest beer in the redlight. XXX Lounge in Pong takes first place with their 79b Leo draft. And that’s the all-night price. The Chang at DH has a distinct wheat bread flavor, which isn’t unpleasant. There were lots of nude chubsters onstage, and one 7. The rest were chaff, and I bailed to Nana.
The beer garden was 4/5 full by 21.00—the fullest I’ve seen since before the plandemic. I saw an old dude drag his equally old wife into Twister. No idea why 1—he brought her to the redlight in the first place or 2—she went along willingly. She was clearly shaken up by the sight of the Twister stage, but he pulled her in anyway.
Remember the days when you could stand on the 3rd floor balcony of NanaP and snap a photo of the beer garden? Those days are over. Security guards patrol the upper levels, stopping dudes from snapping pics. Of the beer garden. If you manage to evade the guards, there are more at the entrance, scanning the balconies, point laser pointers at anyone who raises their phone above their navel. Because god fucking forbid someone comes away with a photo of the beer garden from 100 feet away. Fucking ridiculous. I managed to get one anyway. It’s part of this week’s slideshow companion for this post, available via the YouTube link below.
There were slightly fewer girls in Billboard on Saturday. I counted two rotations of 20, plus 12 in the bath tub. It was crazy busy again, which is great for the owners, but I honestly don’t know how a dude finds someone to barfine in a crowded madhouse like that. It’s more reminiscent of a US strip club, where guys spend a fortune and then go home alone and wank.
I ended the night, per usual, in Pong. XXX Lounge held a beach-themed party with palm fronds, coconuts, and girls in bikinis (photos in this week’s slideshow–link below). Four tourists climbed onstage. One was a fat, ugly white chick. I wanted to run up and jump-kick her between the shoulder blades. Later, three Asian dudes got up there, but it was the gogo dancers who dragged them onstage and so they’re forgiven. But ugly white chicks who hit a Thai gogo stage as part of their eat-pray-love holiday experience need to burn in Hell.
There were lots of lookieloo tourists but not many actual punters, except at King’s Castle and King’s Corner. Those places are short-time havens. Rumors continue to abound about a reopening of the night market. The supposed date for that is now December 1 but I remain skeptical.
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
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: The Return of Stupid, Part 1. The tourists are back, and so are their stupid, stupid ways.
I know that in some parts of the world, it’s perfectly normal to walk in the street, and drivers know to just go around you. I mean, I don’t “know” that, but I assume it’s so, because foreigners come to Bangkok and do it. They stroll down the middle of the soi like it’s not a place where cars, trucks and motorbikes trundle through at precarious speeds. I don’t want to disparage another culture, but if people don’t obey traffic laws in your 3rd world backwater country, and you want to have a holiday in Thailand or wherever, maybe Google whether it’s acceptable to block traffic by taking a stroll down the middle of a street while ignoring the perfectly good pavement that was installed specifically for your dumb ass to walk on.
