Love them or hate them (I hate them), the tourists sure have brought the party back to Bangkok. The Patpong Night Market seethes with crowds. Shenanigan’s is rammed to the rafters. On Soi 2, wave after wave of party crews, girls getting their groove back, families, and vanilla couples ebb and flow like a tedious tourist tide. It’s all great for the bar owners, gogo dancers, and liquor distributors. Everything’s looking up, even as huge chunks of the Pong remain shuttered. I shudder to think how crazy things will get once those spaces are open for biznass.
Out of curiosity, I swang by Nana Plaza a couple nights last week to 1—visit galpals, 2—check the foot traffic, and 3—reassure myself that the sucky NanaP bars still suck. On Tuesday, I mototaxi’d to Nana early—around 18.30—and that was a huge mistake. Traffic was so bad, it took 30 minutes from Soi Convent to Soi 4. Busy-ness around the Plaza was already a zoo. I hit Chequers for a bacon cheeseburger (320) and Tiger pint (150), because it was the first joint I passed with an open table. ‘Twas at the back of the restaurant, next to the toilet. The Upside of that seat was, no tourists could sit near me and harsh my vibe. The downside was the constant stream of drunk fat blokes in and out the loo. The aircon above me dripped cold water on my leg, a welcome refresher on an unseasonably hot evening. The burger was a perfect replication of what you’d get at any pub in England. Never mind that a UK burger wouldn’t win any contests against even a mediocre American one. Chequers caters to their British expat clientele. The “french fries” could’ve come straight from a Camden chips shop. So while the average Yank might not approve of the meal, after living in Essex for a year and chowing down burgers from Brighton to Inverness, this portly punter gives the dish two big thumbs up. An unexpected bonus was the coleslaw. Fresh, clearly made with TLC, and downright delicious, it’s the best slaw I’ve tasted in BKK. Although on a side note, how did it take me so long to realize that, unless you want Middle Eastern, pub food, or Hooter’s/Bully’s, there’s nothing to eat in Nana? Don’t get me wrong—there are shit-tons of restaurants—fuck-tons, in fact. But nearly all fall into one of those categories. I think there’s a seafood joint and some Indian eateries, but that’s it. There’s a significant dearth of options in that neighborhood.
As I neared the end of my meal, two unwashed hippies in their early 20s walked in, perused the menu for a minute, then bailed. Obviously they were near the end of their holiday budget and the Western fare was too pricey for ‘em. And although I hate hippies—and farang in general—at least they had the balls to get on the plane. Most people their age are sitting in their parent’s basements writing angry Tweets, too scared, broke, or stupid to even leave the house. They deserve credit for making the trip.
Twister had two 20-girl rotations bang at 20.00. Thirty of them were 6s, plus 10 smoking hot chicks. My friend Eye was there. She said the last week or so, Nana was lousy with customers. So far, this evening was pretty mellow. Some asshole wanted to sit with her, so he stood next to us for 15 minutes, waiting for me to leave. He even set his drink down next to her and loomed over her with his arms folded like some kind of psycho. I was torn. On the one hand, I want her to earn money. But on the other, fucking cunts need to learn not to behave this way in the gogo. Fucking relax, sit down somewhere, and wait yer turn, ya ruddy cunt. While Eye and I enjoyed our cocktails, three vanilla couples ducked in, looked around, and beat a hasty retreat.
After Twister, I made my customary stop in Spanky’s, which is still holding up, despite losing their veteran manager to Pattaya. The new guy looks so young and wet behind the ears, I wondered if he’d even touched a boob yet. Three Americans (fat, beards, backwards snap-back bait-n-tackle caps, forearm tattoos) were having the time of their lives. One even got onstage and let a girl sit on his face. It’s crazy to think that, if not for a global lockdown, Americans for the most part would never have thought to come here. But the scamdemic taught the West one important lesson: either get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’, and so the young Southern fatsos have come to TLOS.
I had a quick SML in Billboard just to confirm that they still don’t have any girls I’d barfine. The place was moderately busy for a weeknight with tons of unappealing girls onstage. One statuesque vixen gave me the hungry eyes. She had long, shimmering curly hair, and clearly had spent at least an hour on it. One thing I am not is the kind of guy worth doing your hair for. That already placed her firmly outside my fuck zone. That and she looked 30. No thank ya, ma’am. Billboard is the Pizza Hut of gogo bars. It’s wildly popular, shitloads of dudes love it, but I’d rather go home hungry. Yet as I was about to leave, I did spot one girl—young, skinny, 6-pack abs—number 904. Out of 40 dancers, there was one I’d barfine. I stuck a hundy in her crotch, though she had no idea what she’d done to earn it.
I’ll pay Billboard another compliment: the girls and the staff don’t bug me for drinks. Maybe it’s because I’m a familiar face, but regardless of why, it’s nice to be able to sit in there and not get hassled. Billboard and Spanky’s don’t hassle me, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I wanted to hit at least one more bar before bailing, but every other place in the Plaza sucks. But I needed to piss, so I opted for Tycoon, since they’ve been blowing up my Twitter with pics of hot girls. Turns out that was just a rouse. There were a couple of lookers (more than Billboard, actually) but the goddesses in their promo pics were nowhere to be found. After that, I Pong’d for a bit. Just a run-of-the mill Pong, nothing to report.
Thursday I was onPong by 19.30 for a pint in Shenanigan’s. There was a Thai guy belting out cover songs with an acoustic guitar. His 2nd song was a Dylan classic, but since Thai people’s ears hear an ‘s’ sound when farang exhale an ‘h’ sound, it sounded like he was singing “Knock-knock-knockin’ on Seven’s door.” My friend at Twister Nana Plaza asked me to pick up a pair of stripper shoes for her from the shop next to Muzik so I spent the evening trucking around a pair of black strappy heels. Once again, Beer came to work at XXX alone. None of her hot friends bothered to turn up. It’s actually a testament to her work ethic…either that or an indication of her bank account balance.
Pink Panther was quiet early, but roared up to pandemonium by the time the Muay Thai started. One girl who was back on the pole after a multi-year hiatus was Ice. I barfined her way back in 2015, and she still looks good. Buddha blessed her with a radiant smile and zero fat on her trim little frame. She’s a sight for sore eyes, actually.
The practice of the hotter gogo dancers finding a different pole to ride midweek seems to’ve spread. Bada Bing’s best were strangely absent (they returned for the weekend rush, though). The only joints that remain consistently busy and constantly rammed with hot chicks are King’s Castle and King’s Corner. Those bars are veritably teeming with trim. By 21.00, Bing had taken off, with double the girls and triple the customers. One poor sod—obviously American—walked around putting hundies in all the girls’ bikini bottoms. The dupe will learn soon enough that this ain’t the WH (Western Hemisphere).
None of my regular King’s girls were on the pole on Thursday. Just the harem hopefuls trying to audition for a spot on my roster. And goddam there were a handful of new faces that absolutely chubbed my junk. Two skinny blondes with big tits plus a blue contact-lensed brunette that looked like she just hopped off the assembly line at a sex factory. I sat outside with a Black Russian and a cigar. A German tourist couple plopped down next to me. The lady ordered a club soda, the dude a Long Island. They tried to talk to the gogo dancers in English, which was a total fail. “Take care your shoes,” the woman said. The Thai girl was like “……tattoos?” I gazed across at Derby King, which is nightly now so lousy with tourists, I couldn’t hope to get a seat. Luckily, they deliver everywhere onPong (two dudes had 3 plates of chicken wings brought to XXX). My fave location to have DK is directly across the street, where I was seated at that moment, outside of King’s Castle.
Radio City continues its streak of midweek hotness and few customers. They had 10 buxom bitches onstage for the pleasure of four pudgy punters. Banging a big-titty broad is a fish-in-barrel affair in RC. After the rotation, a girl accosted me. “Seven!” she shouted, “Sor som!” or something like that, I couldn’t understand her. Sor-som, sor-som. I kept replying with “Nam som?” which made her really mad. I never did figure out what she was saying. There was a girl onstage that I recognized from her days on the pole at Thigh Bar before it got converted to a ping-pong. I asked her if she missed that gogo. Her response, after a few seconds, was “SEVEN!” as if remembering me were an epiphany. Out of sympathy for the girls in there who were working so hard for no audience, I stuffed a few 20s in bikinis and bailed, pulling on my mask as I went. I’m back to wearing a mask again, thanks to the horrific air pollution, which is back to lung-wrecking levels after a two-year Covid break.
On Friday I was back in NanaP to deliver my galpal’s new stripper shoes. This time, I waited till 20.00 to get the mototaxi, so as to avoid the horrendous traffic, and had the opposite problem. There was nothing to deter the driver—who was clearly on something—from flying through the Bangkok streets like a bat out of hell. I nearly died twice.
On Soi 4 I weeded through the massive throngs of unwashed foreigners spilling out into the jammed traffic, breezed through security and found a seat in Twister just as Eye, took the stage. She bounded down the stairs and into my arms, scooped up her new shoes and flitted to the locker room to put them on. When she returned, she put her head on my shoulder and one leg over mine, and we just kind of chilled there for 20 minutes or so. She mentioned that, while there have been tons of customers, not many of them are buying drinks or barfining. I can think of three possible reasons for that: tourists are either 1—too broke, and barely had enough for the plane ticket, 2—too scared, thanks to current woke leftist ‘me too’ bullshit in the West, or 3—incapable of pulling the trigger through a total lack of ability to talk to a girl—even a sure thing. As I ruminated, I glanced at the stage, and there I spied the single hottest gogo dancer I’ve ever laid eyes on. She danced for 30 seconds, then left, never to return. As a matter of fact, there were four perfect 10s and two 9s onstage, but this one girl—holy fuckballs. I give it a week before some old punter scoops her out the redlight and marries her.
Speaking of old punters, a couple of dudes dm’d me on Twitter to ask if I’d seen Nuchy or Pui lately. These are girls that regularly send me videos and photos to post on the “Bangkok Gogo Dancers” Twitter and Facebook profiles. As luck would have it, Pui was onstage in Twister. I was about to wave her over when a skinny bald monger sitting next me called her down for a drink, and turned his body sideways so she couldn’t make eye contact with me. I think because she tried to say ‘hi’ as she walked up.
From there, I skipped Spanky’s and Billboard and instead checked out Butterflies, where 50 girls were having a rip-roaring good time. Out of 50, there were six hot ones—the same number as XXX Lounge inPong. And that was all I could stand of Nana, so I bolted to King’s to find everyone in legit Thai university uniforms, plus other various schoolgirl cosplay garb. The theme was a huge hit with customers. The girls looked so hot I nearly lost my religion. Som’s uni skirt was so short, it didn’t fully cover her nethers (photos available via this week’s YouTube slideshow companion—link below). I downed one drink and had to leave. It was just too busy. Beer and Pu graced the stage at XXX, plus two hot girls whose names I don’t know. Our acquaintance goes as far as me grabbing their tits from time to time and that’s all.
Bing was busy, with half a dozen lookers, two of them new faces. In King’s Corner, a fat, bald farang with his chunky Thai girlfriend annoyed the fuck out of everyone. He arrived drunk, and proceeded to embarrass his girl by trying to kiss the hand of every dancer and barmaid who passed by. Everyone was confused and repulsed (‘confulsed’ for short, copyright BKK7) by his advances, and all his gf could do was cringe. Meanwhile, a Chinese guy was throwing money all over the place. He even got onstage and tossed 20s like there was no tomorrow. My old friend Thasanee (formerly of The Strip) came ant sat with me, and I took the opportunity to snap some pics of her back tattoo (see this week’s YouTube slideshow).
Overall, it was a busy, crowded, hectic week inPong and at NanaP. I’m not sure how much longer I can schlep over to the Plaza, considering how few places there are to eat or gogo. It’s all just…meh. Luckily, the Pong just keeps getting better and better.
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: Thais don’t eat dog. For anyone who lives here or has visited here, this statement probably sounds crazy, as in, “What fucking retard would ever think Thais eat dog?” But this is one of the many, many stupid things that stupid fucking retarded Americans think are true of Thailand. The US is basically just a populace of idiots whose heads are chock full of lies about Thailand. And to that I say, be thankful. Thank whatever god you pray to reader, that the stupid American hordes do not come here because of some utterly moronic belief that keeps them from boarding the plane. Because Thailand can only benefit from having fewer Americans on its soil. And I say that as a California native, born in Hollywood, raised in LA.
