Bangkok City

A fine lass named Simona Sabo joins our group. She's a spunky clothing designer from L.A., full of life and smiles, cute and witty. Had the pleasure of touring much of Vietnam with her, arranged this meet up in Bangkok. In addition are Pamela and Andrew, aka Pamdrew, the brilliant couple met our very 1st week on the road. They too are doing a round-the-world trip, and we've already met up twice. They're legends. For example, once back in the U.K., Andrew told Pam that it would be very sweet if she woke him with a kiss, so she did and in his sleep he POW!punched her in the face! He of course felt awful, but they both laughed and to get him back, that morning she gave him a nearly black hikee right on his forehead, just before he went to work he haha called in sick due to unsightly hikee. Love 'em.

6 of us walking Koh San Road, Bangkok's world famous backpacker street.

It's electric like any big city drag, overcrowded every night, you smell with your sweat glands. Air's rich with peanut sauce, cooking fat, grilled corn, sweet chili, cigarette, pancake, banana, smog dust booze ASIA!round old women rigid behind food carts, frying up generous portions of Pad Thai or chopping exotic fruits. It all costs about a buck. Biding shirt vendors, they fasten their eyes to you like a problem child's might visiting Santa Claus, yearning for your whole wallet rather than a humble blessing; they're street magicians hissing “Pick a card!” and if you approach and play, they behave with meekness so contrived all respect just dissolves and you resent paying anything beyond the minimum; while they always say “Whe' you from, Wha' your name" etcetera the slick-fake-friendship conjured by western car salesman is rarely neared— bargaining is a joke.
“How much for this shirt?”
“400Baht goo' price cheap cheap”
“100Baht”
“Hehe oh no way man... I discoun' for you 200Baht” and you just look at him in the eyes and say
“150Baht.” He shakes his head. “150Baht.” Again he shakes his head so I outstretch the amount, he takes it, I just walk off with the raiment.

Behind the vendors are bars and clubs. High colorful buildings with open windows and neon somethings. Different genres thump out each one. Hearing them over the crowd-roar. Everything grabs your attention, not that exceptional things are happening, but everything is ALIVE. We're laughing, listening, feeling it all. Close friends and new friends meet our dear friend Jen, and Brad and me glow in between. We're trying to take it all in. Then the crowd parts for a flimsy Thai guy and his disproportionate friend, who holds a chain-link leash on a baby elephant. The flimsy fellow holds a bag of corn stalks, which you can buy and feed the beast, who keeps spurting out muffled snuffs and high pitched BPREEAH. The poor babe's freaked and it's a sore sight but we can't do anything about it, and hell... ever touched a baby elephant? nonetheless fed a baby elephant? So we buy some corn and feed the poor girl.

We continue our meander. End up in a big, Irish pub. There's a cover band playing all the latest pop-shit but it's still fun, and the reunion energy's so strong we can't be bothered by anything. We throw back a few rounds and return to the streets.

Now late. Much of Koh San's cleared out but we walk the length anyways. The ladyboys are undeniable. We heard some are beautiful. Bullocks. Not that I have anything against them (seriously), but they are all clearly transvestites... man-size feet, muscle definition, long strong hands, broad jawline, shoulders—dudes, and flirty dudes at that. As soon as you're alone they approach you. I'm pretty sure they're tricks, but none of us ever stuck around long enough to find out. So we walk together happily in our own world laughing and catching up. Grab some late night Pad Thai and paaaass out.

You know those Thai protests? We took part. 1 day we go sightseeing. En Route to the Grand Palace we go down Bangkok's Broadway. Suddenly hordes of civilians wearing red begin parading. Huge trucks filled with people, bull horns, noise makers, chanting, singing, clapping, 1000s of Thais marching for their cause, smiling to us and waving, and we wave back and smile in awe. 1 shouting quartet approaches the 6 of us, smiling. They ask where we're from and teach us their chant. So we go right ahead and join in. The quartet hands over sashes, noise makers, and as we participate the paraders go wild, cheering for us and waving.

We watch the spectal roll through for 20 minutes, then continue on our way to the palace.







Afterwards we went to the giant sleeping Buddha.


That evening we check out the shopping area. Wide slimy street. We’re drinking coffee. There’s a bridge overhead and it’s dripping down something sordid. Bradon spots this old bat selling cool shirts—her stance hisses out "Fuck you,” her body's seething lard, her legs stiff, arms even stiffer. Her face skin's wrinkled like race-tracks. He walks up anyway. He sets his cup on her table, tries on a shirt, turns to me “Bro this feels like sandpaper.”
“It looks awful. I mean, the design's dope but it fits like a trash bag.” He folds it back on the table. The bat's eyes burrrn.
“Why you no buy! Why no!”
“I'm sorry it does not fit.”
“Why no man! Buy from me!”
“Thank you bye.” He shakes his head forgetting the empty cup.
“Fuck you man! Fuck you now you buy!”
“Oh sorry.” He grabs it “Bye lady” walks to another vendor 4-yards back. Again no luck. Turns around, continues down the street toward devil woman. She glares, steps in his path and powerfully hooks her leg round his. He stumbles and almost face-plants. Out of instinct he spins and throws his empty cup at her face, and I swear her damned lips tightened so hard her eyes rolled back like Linda Blair's did in The Excorcist, and all 5'3" of her flexed so hard she lifted off the ground in a squat RAH! She waddles after him then jabs his torso over and over. He's stunned and can't fight back. She grabs a random bamboo stick and whips his left arm over and over, all he can do is grin, bitterly holding back as everyone just stares. The welts lasted a whole week. And that's how Bradon got caned in Bangkok. Crazy old bitch. We took some photos of his arm and kept walking down the road, wondering to ourselves the *@#$ just happened...haha!!!

Look closely and you can see the battle welt...the bruise lasted for 2 weeks!

Over the next few days the 6 of us have a great time. We club it up nightly and get hassled by ladyboys. We go to Pat Pong, which I refuse to describe but I will say it involved, darts, balloons, cigarettes, chains of needles, flowers, flying bananas, and ping pong balls. We almost get mugged. We ride countless Tuk-Tuks, 1 of which is driven by an obvious meth-head who twitches at intersections. We see a fantastic Thai reggae show. Simona gets the most beautiful tattoo. Thailand's a wild place. Bangkok's a wild city. It just feels real. Like after a tiring day and you're famished and use just the change in your pocket to buy a huge, greasy burrito. Right at that first bite.

Best Taxis in the world!!!