What’s up reader, how was your first week of the year-between-pandemics? Only 50 weeks left till the ‘accidental’ release of the next virus, so I hope you’re making the most of it.
For many, January is a time for resolutions. It’s not a thing I’ve done regularly at any point in my life, but this year I’m making an effort. In last week’s post, I posited a possible resolution—whether to be nicer or meaner to idiots on the internet. I’ve resolved to be meaner to them. That’s resolution number 1.
On New Year’s Eve, one of my harem sent me a Line message that said, “I love you. Stay with me forever,” which means I’ll have to get rid of her ASAP. One thing this old cowpoke doesn’t do is commit…to anything. In fact, I’m tired of overextending myself with a large harem. It’s time to cull the herd. That’s resolution number 2. (Although lest you think I’ve become a heartless asshole, a former harem girl messaged and offered a blowjob in exchange for 1500 for her mother’s liver treatment. I said ‘no’ to the bj but transferred the cash anyway. Not out of magnanimity. I just couldn’t be bothered.)
Resolution number 3 is to waste less money in the redlight. Out of the first 7 nights of the year, I spent 4 in my apartment. On the nights I did go out, most of the time was spent onPong, with a quick toe-dip in Nana. I still can’t bring myself to schlep all the way to that gogo graveyard known as Soi Cowboy. And it turns out, three visits t’Pong and one trip to NanaP was enough to compose—or compost—this post. Here’s how it shook out…
New Year’s weekend was good for Bangkok, if not the Pong gogos. Jan 1st was quiet in the bars, except for King’s Castle which was a madhouse. The Night Market and both sois were crowded with gawkers, and Shenanigan’s was crazy. G’s German Restaurant on Silom Soi 4 made more money in 4 days than in two months during the pandemic.
January in the Bangkok gogo means little or no air-con. The girls are all ‘too cold’ and so fat geezers like me veritably melt in the swelt. A running theme in my evenings was ‘tourists in distress.’ From trying to evade the advances of ping-pong barkers to bridging the language gap with tuk-tuk drivers to staring at outdated maps, the farang were like a swarm of toddlers in need of babysitting. Having been raised in a Christian home, my knee-jerk reaction is to try to help. But since I’m an idiot, more often than not my attempts end up making things worse. Plus I hate tourists, so it’s counterintuitive to render aid.
On Friday I hit XXX Lounge after 21.00 thanks once again to a tardy harem girl and found four vanilla couples ogling the stage. This trend ran through the rest of Pong, with couples and even whole families permeating the redlight veneer. By half 9, XXX, Black Pagoda, Pink Panther, and King’s Corner were all uncomfortably crowded. In King’s Corner, 3 young American dudes gaped at the stage, unable to wipe the grins off their faces. I got the impression they’d never seen so many bikini-clad females in one place. When one of them finally worked up the courage to have a girl over, he talked with her for about a minute before sending her back to the stage, then laughed hysterically with his friends. A few moments later, they bailed. They were drinking Cokes.
Had they stayed for two more minutes they would’ve caught the 22.00 show. The Corner shut their door, dimmed the lights, and a dancer took the stage in a tiny kimono, bottle of baby oil in hand, spreading a sheet of plastic wrap on the floor. Then she stripped to a black lace thong and proceeded to cover herself in oil to the beat of an Adele song. Then she was handed a couple of lit candles and she swung em around while “Sadness” by Enigma blared from the speakers. ‘Twas more than a little erotic, I tell you what. Toward the end of her routine, four drunk Brits burst through the door and, on seeing her, started shouting and jumping like the chimps at the start of “2001” then took up seats stageside, mere inches from the girl. Thankfully, she finished up before they could commit any crude faux pas.
King’s Caste was so crowded, there were no seats either inside or out. I had to drag over a chair from a nearby shop. The roving bracelet peddlers have returned—yet another sign that the scene has recovered and a quick pssd (post sexy stress disorder) flashback to 2010.
Throughout the night, a cool, steady breeze blew through the Pong, baptizing it—and greater Silom from Convent to Soi 3—in the odor of ganja. As I sat outside the Castle with a black Russian and Cuban cigar, Som came out to solicit a drink and bounce on my lap. We were a real sight for passing tourists.
Bada Bing was rammed at 22.30. Joy was back after a week’s holiday (see photos of her in the latest YouTube slideshow—link below). I asked what she was doing all that time. She said, “Being lazy at home.”
XXX Lounge has a hottie problem, namely that 5 of their best-looking girls are all BFFs, and when one skips work, they all do. From the 1st to the 6th, Earn, Beer, Little Nan, Pu, plus Momay all stayed home. None of ‘em bothered to come to work, and at first, I surmised they’d opted as a team to switch gogos, maybe to Nana. But then on Friday, within an hour, three of ‘em messaged to hit me up for rent money. Those rascally bitches stayed off the pole for a week and then expected Seven to cover their bills. I said NO, by the way, so if you wanted to barfine one or more of them, now’s your chance because they’re hard-up for cash.
But this fiaso has spawned two more resolutions: First, I’m done being everyone’s benefactor. I was happy to do it during Covid when the redlight was closed and they had no means of supporting themselves. Now, though, they need to get their asses back on the pole. Second, I need to commit more time to Nana Plaza, maybe going twice a week instead of once. I’ve never felt comfortable there and there’s a lot to hate about it, the Nazi-like security overkill topping the list. But the fact is, there’s a group of chicks worth visiting there.
Speaking of, the trend of Pong hotties switching to Nana Plaza continues. I’m not allowed to say why, but if you’ve read my older posts, you already know. Beyond the stupid reason, word has gotten back t’Pong that there’s more money to be made in NanaP, so it makes sense that they’d migrate. The ones who can’t find a comfy spot or can’t abide by the rules there will eventually slink back, though.
In other news, locals and other Bangkok “nightlife” “bloggers” remarked that there are less customers making barfines post-Covid. This is only half right. Tourists were already doing less barfining before the plandemic. I can think of 3 reasons for this. 1—Tinder is easier than thrashing through the redlight, 2—the Woke West looks down on the practice, and 3—many Millennial and Gen Z men are so inept at talking to women (through no fault of their own), they can’t even close the deal on a sure thing. So even though these dudes know which plane to board and which BKK neighborhood to get dressed-up and visit, at the moment of truth, they fail.
As of January 1, the gogos inPong seem to’ve abandoned their “no ganja” policies. Every bar is now a makeshift hotbox. The bar staff spray Febreze to no avail.
Pigtails Nana Plaza has closed and been replaced with Rainbow 1. On my visit to the Plaza, I found Billboard to be surprisingly medium-busy, and was even more shocked to see two girls on the carousel that I’d barfine (35 kilos soaking wet, perky tits, 6-pack abs, under 25). A repeat customer sat down next to me with his previous night’s barfine in tow and cuddling close. The mamasan who helped arrange the love connection came over to congratulate him on his conquest and make lude jokes while he squirmed and laughed along awkwardly. A 2nd mamasan sidled over and they all coaxed drinks out of him. 1k baht gone in seconds.
Spanky’s was also not full, despite sporting 10 topless tarts onstage plus one in the shower. I chalked it up to the same post New Year’s hangover as the Pong’s. I had the most fun in Twister, of course because so many of my galbuds work there. I hung out with Bee and Oil, chowing down on kow pad, tequila and SMLs on the outside patio before retreating back t’Pong.
Last night in XXX Lounge, two exciting things occurred. First, someone christened the VIP room, and second, speaking of the VIP room, an artwork that previously hung in there, created by yours truly, was purchased by a local collector (if you didn’t get to see it, I’ve added a jpeg to this week’s YouTube montage—link below). And just FYI, the windfall from this transaction did, in the end, enable me to pay rent for those broke girls I previously denied. I also rang the bell for probably the first and last time. I guess that’s karma, if you believe in that sort of stuff. The manager quickly replaced the picture with another of my photoshopped renderings. This time it’s a version of Taitle’s (formerly a gogo dancer in Electric Blue) back tattoo. If you’re into art, or tattoos, or Thai girls, swing by and take a gander. It’s for sale.
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: If you meet a girl in a bar and you like her, get her Line immediately—even if you go there every day and see her all the time, even if you have no near-future plan to make a run at her. Because you never know when 1—you might suddenly find yourself in the mood and/or 2—she might decide to bail to another redlight. If that happens, you may never see her again. This happened to me last week when the arguably hottest girl in Bada Bing abruptly disappeared after months on the pole in there. Now I can only hope and pray she returns someday.
