Category Archives: Thoughts from the expats corner
Jack Corbett has now been living full time in Thailand as an expat. This category encompasses a wide range of thoughts and subjects from the perspective of being in a strange land thousands of miles from the United States where the culture oftentimes seems to be 180 degrees apart from the values and beliefs of the West.
Pattaya watching tourist die in 2nd road beer bar four nights ago. We saw the worse luck happen and the man wasn’t even drunk. One moment that man was easing back in his bar stool. Then I saw him tip over backwards. Two seconds later he lay prostate on the floor. Lights out. The tourist never knew what hit him.
When the police and rescue squad got to him he was already dead
The bar girls got to him quickly. Trying to do what they could. I approached his inert body seconds later. Eyes wide open staring into nothingness, he didn’t even twitch. As the girls propped him up in their arms, I inched up close to him. Staring at his face. As I watched his chest moving up and down. Rapidly. Too rapidly.
Pattaya watching tourist die just half a block north of Soi Six at the Suzie Bar on 2nd road. I took this picture half hour after I watched the man leaning too far in his bar stool. Seeing the whole thing happen as in a slow motion movie.
I put my face just inches from his. And spoke to him gently. Seeing if I could get a response. But his eyes told me that nobody was at home. The bar girls had him upright at a slight angle as they poured smelling salts into his nose. Almost drowning him. But all we saw was an inert form, lying motionless.
When the man showed no signs of consciousness five minutes later I walked over to a couch. Where I found a thin pillow. Then I bought it over to the man and the small group of girls gathered around him.
I’m not a doctor. So there is no way no one’s ever going to say that I was treating him. Without a license. Or any first aid training whatsoever since I was 17. So I got the girls to straighten our his body to make him as comfortable as possible. Then I told them to slide the pillow under his head. This put him in an almost horizontal position with his head raised upwards at a slight angle.
I’m not about to fault these bar girls at all. They were doing all they could with tender loving care.
But I knew they’d be sending him to one of Pattaya’s worse hospitals, if I didn’t do something.
So I asked the girls if the man had a wallet. So when one of them pointed at one of his pockets, I reached inside and snatched out his wallet. Which I held in front of the girls to show them that I was not stealing anything. I opened the man’s wallet. And immediately found his credit card. Which showed me that the man probably had enough money to pay his hospital bills.
I also knew that International Hospital was just 400 meters away. Which would probably provide him with professional treatment. But only if the hospital knew he could pay his bill.
Taking out my smart phone I looked up the International Hospital. And found its emergency telephone number. Which I showed to the cashier.
Pattaya watching tourist die wasn’t something the cashier saw everyday.
She probably didn’t know anything more to do for the guy than I did. About twenty minutes after the man had crushed his head against the floor, the cashier called an emergency number. As I felt his head. Which was abnormally cool considering how hot it was. I put my hands around his wrist searching for a pulse. His wrist wasn’t cold. Not just yet. But I didn’t feel much of a pulse. But then again, I’m no doctor.
By the time the rescue squad and the police arrived, about half an hour after he had crashed to the floor, he had pissed his pants.
By the time I was taking this picture we must have all been thinking—we were in Pattaya watching tourist die. I had read about his kind of thing happening. And often, but this time I was right there watching the man die.
I cannot fault the police or the rescue squad. Which performed CPR over and over again. And again. Then violently. And more violently as the men all did what they could. But feeling helpless. They put something over his mouth too. Which I think contained compressed air. But the man still didn’t move. Not even an eye.
50 % certain that the man would surely die soon after his hospital arrival. And nearly as certain that the man was already dead, I left. Traumatized. Right after they loaded him into a gurney. And whisked him off to the nearest hospital. So I headed down Soi Six. Where I stopped at the Kawaii bar. Gip, the Kawaii bar cashier was the girlfriend of one of my best friends. She lived in my condo building one floor below me. So I told her, “I’m not even having a drink. I think I just saw a man die. I’m heading to Walking Street.
I never stopped. Deadheading for the nearest motorcycle taxi driver, I had the man take me straight to Walking Street.
Where I walked straight to the Doll House go go bar. Where my best friend was waiting for me. That was at 8:30. And by the time I left I must have had something like eight gin and tonics. Then I went back to the Susie Bar on 2nd road to find out what had actually happened.
At the Susie bar I found out that Pattaya watching tourist die had now become a certainty. This is what happened.
The cashier told me, “The man was Australian. He was not drunk. We found out he had played golf that afternoon and then he came into the bar next to us. He was alone. And he fell while having his first drink. Didn’t even drink one third of it. No one knew him because he never came here before. Then he leaned too far back in his bar stool and fell backwards.”
The cashier continued: “We all knew he died in the bar. At least we were pretty sure.”
The cashier and I then had many drinks together. She didn’t stop until she fell asleep.
My opinion of Pattaya watching tourist die
Last night I went back to the Susie bar with two friends. Once again, I inspected the scene of the accident. In front of the bar where the tourist keeled over in his bar stool, there is a raised platform. Which extends about 3 feet out before it drops off abruptly to floor level. It drops off at a 90 degree angle. And this is where I think the man hit the back of his head. Although there was little if any blood, I believe the fall crushed the back of his skull. Losing consciousness immediately, his brain started to malfunction. For example his very heavy breathing was unnatural. Over the next few minutes his brain stropped functioning. And he died pissing his pants.
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The Roxy’s Bomb Girl and 007’s Walther PPK
Taylor from PT’s Roxy’s, one of the author’s favorite St. Louis area Clubs, as the Roxy’s Bomb Girl.
With James Bond now well past his prime it might be wise
for him to turn to younger women such as Taylor dancing at
PT’s Roxys in Brooklyn, Illinois, who not only has got what
it takes to waken James up from the many deep fogs ever
since he turned sixty, but is also gravely concerned that his
choice of weaponry is too antiquated for him to measure up
to his better armed 21st century opponents. The guns of our
Roxys Topless Club Bond girl, the subject of this review, are
the Walther PPK, the Kahr P 9 and the Seecamp 32 A.C.P.
In Ian Flemming’s early Bond novels, 007 is woefully under
equipped with a 25-caliber Beretta automatic, a small semi
auto which is useful if it is at all, at only point blank range,
and even at that offers very poor stopping power against
anything larger than a baby rabbit. Q, Flemming’s chief
armorer for the British Secret Service, insists that Bond
replace his pathetic .25 Beretta with the much more powerful
PPK in 7.65 mm. For the rest of his career in Flemming’s
novels, Bond goes about his daily business of shooting the
bad guys with his PPK. The reader and later the audience in
the 007 movies is assured that Bond is adequately armed for
whatever awaits him.
The PPK is a svelte lightweight pocket pistol engineered by the German Walther Arms Company in the 1930’s
, which started as the model PP, but was shortened to a handier sized version, the PPK. It broke new ground in modern pistol
design because it was double action-that is, a bullet could be
chambered into the breech, after which one could push a
lever that set the trigger in a position so that the gun could
not be fired without undertaking a long hard trigger squeeze.
Double action refers to a single squeeze of the trigger that
both cocks and fires the pistol although later pistol designs
such as the Kahr would replace the external hammer with
internal striker mechanisms. With the PPK one could also
elect to pull the hammer back and fire the piece with an easy
pull in single action mode which one accomplishes by
pulling the trigger, thus tripping the hammer, which has
already been cocked by the shooter, upon the cartridge’s
primer. The gun’s inherent design is very safe since it cannot
possibly go off unless the shooter pulls the trigger.
During and after World War II, the German military chose
the much more powerful 9mm Parabellum for its service
pistols for the most part. The much smaller and lighter PP
and PPK models were sometimes used by officers but were
more commonly used by the German police, particularly by
the Gestapo and other undercover policemen.
A few years ago there were two designs of the PPK on the
commercial market.
There was the original PPK from Germany in calibers .22, 7.65 mm, and .380 auto and the slightly larger American PPK/S.
PPK’s are no longer manufactured in Germany. Recently Smith and Wesson became the sole manufacturer and distributor of the PPK/S
in the U.S. through a licensing agreement with Walther.
Smith and Wesson does not produce the more compact PPK
and its PPK/S is currently available in 380 auto only. Prior to
Smith and Wesson’s involvement, a company called
Interarms imported German made Walthers and
subcontracted their manufacture here in the U.S. through a
company in Alabama. But quality was not up to German
standards and Interarms wound up going belly up. Luckily
mine is a pristine German-made PPK in .380 auto, which has
a lustrous aftermarket black chrome finish, considered to be
more durable than the pistol’s original bluing.
The opinion of “gun experts” on the 380 auto’s man-stopping
ability is divided into two camps. Some consider the .380
auto to be the absolute minimum as a reliable stopper for
self-defense whereas many consider it to be inadequate. But
nearly everyone who has even a modicum of knowledge
about guns deems Bond’s first pistol, his beloved .25 Beretta,
to be worse than a .22 as a stopper. Keep in mind though that
Bond’s PPK was chambered in 7.65 mm or what is also
known as .32 A.C.P., not 380 auto, a bullet that develops
roughly 30 percent more muzzle energy than the .32.
In spite of its deficiencies as a reliable man stopper, the PPK
made quite a name for itself for many years.
Its lines are trim and seductive, which is probably why Flemming chose the PPK for his suave James Bond character. Its sleek lines
combined with relatively low weight made it ideal for
concealed carry. Quality of manufacture ensured a reliable
weapon that its owner could be proud to carry. And if mine
is any indication of most PPK’s, its trigger in single action
mode is smooth and light compared to most double action
semi autos regardless of caliber.
It’s a beautiful gun, but the question is, can James Bond do
better as he tackles the 21st century?
Two likely contenders for Bond’s weapon of choice are the Seecamp .32 and the Kahr P-9.
The Kahr P-9 is virtually the same size as the PPK, yet its
Polymer frame allows it to weigh in at just 17.7 ounces to
the PPK’s 21. Of supreme importance is the P-9’s
chambering in 9 mm which depending on ammo develops
anywhere from 350 to 450 foot-pounds of muzzle energy to
the .380 Walther’s 200. But Bond didn’t use a PPK in .380,
using instead the even less powerful .32 A.C.P., which
develops around 150 foot-pounds at the muzzle.
Which brings up the Seecamp in .32 A.C.P. Seecamp is a
small family run operation that has decided not to crank up
its production to meet public demand for its excellent little
weapon. One can easily wait up to one and a half years for a
Seecamp in .32 caliber. I’ve seen them only once at gun
shows and I immediately snapped one up. I’ve encountered
them much more often in .25 auto, which would leave one as
poorly armed as James Bond at the start of his career, who
should have been called James Bum for carrying the .25
Beretta in the first place. Only 4 and 1/8th inches long and
weighing just 10.5 ounces, the Seecamp is virtually the same
Taylor wearing the ultra concealable 32 Seecamp
size and weight as Bond’s hapless Beretta.
Hailed as the absolute finest small last-ditch close defense pistol ever produced, the principle behind the Seecamp design is that even the most powerful handgun is useless
unless its owner has it available when the moment of truth arrives.
The Seecamp is so small and unobtrusive, one could
carry it to the beach in his swim trunks, hardly noticing it or
being noticed carrying it. It doesn’t have sights, which can
snag in a pocket. It fires in double action mode only, which
means a hard long trigger pull, which makes it very safe to
carry. There are no external safeties to complicate things or
snag in a jacket or pants pocket. And although the .32 A.C.P.
is not a .45 or a .357 magnum it’s still the same cartridge that
Flemming arms Bond with his PPK. The Seecamp is
designed around a single hollow point bullet, the 60 grain
Winchester Silvertip, which the company guarantees as the
only cartridge the Seecamp can fire reliably and this bullet
hits more than twice as hard as any .22 or .25 automatic.
The 32 Seecamp was so highly regarded that there was a 2 year wait for delivery.
Due to its short sighting radius and absence of sights the
Seecamp cannot begin to shoot with either the PPK or the Kahr
P-9. Its strong suit is it’s the utmost in conceivability, a fact dramatized when two police officers once searched my pickup truck for weapons. I had my Seecamp rolled up in my pajamas lying on the floor of the truck. The police officers never found the Seecamp.
The Seecamp is therefore a specialized weapon one has no
excuse for not carrying along when one is uncomfortable
with carrying larger handguns. So how does the 9-mm Kahr
stack up against the PPK?
The PPK at first appears to be a much more finely machined pistol than the much more powerful Kahr P-9. Moreover, its sexy lines are prettier than the blocky
Kahr.
My Kahr has a parkerized slide riding on a polymer
(plastic) frame whereas the Walther’s black chrome finish is
impeccable. Worse, the Kahr fires in double action only
which would seem to favor the Walther with its smooth light
single action option at the range. But the Kahr shoots the
piss out of the PPK. One would think the PPK shoots well
for a pocket pistol until one shoots the Kahr. Although the
Kahr is double action only, Kahr’s double action pistols are
the smoothest around. The Kahr also benefits from excellent
white high contrast sights that line up quickly and efficiently.
In fact, the Kahr is so good, it’s competitive with many big
name full sized pistols, guns considered far easier to shoot
accurately because of their heft and longer sight radius. It’s
the kind of pistol a shooter can shoot well at twenty-five
yards, a distance considered to be outside the range of nearly
all pocket pistols.
Although it’s only been in existence for a few years, Kahr
Arms sales have made it one of the forerunners in modern
pistol design. Its P-9 9 mm pistol is roughly the same size as
a PPK, yet weighs significantly less. Kahr technology has
ensured that it’s stone reliable and if the P-9 isn’t small
enough for an over the hill Bond, who might be tempted to
go back to his pitiful 25 caliber Beretta, Kahr has recently
introduced an even smaller and lighter version of its P-9.
But face it, Bond’s getting old, and rumor has it that he’s
going for even younger and more beautiful women. With
girls as attractive as our Roxys Bomb girl around, it is likely
that we will find Bond going around more scantily clad than
ever. If James Bond ever clamors for that .25 Beretta again,
there’s the Seecamp, at the same size and weight, which is
much safer to carry, and just as powerful as his old PPK.
To read more about Xtreme Guns and Babes for an Adult Worldclick here.
Nine years ago the sexiest most beautiful Beach Road Freelancer disappears from Pattaya. And she’s been off my radar ever since. The last night I saw her she was absolutely terrified of her violent Thai boyfriend. Who had to have been tied into the Thai mafia. I am certain she would have contacted me after that fabulous last night we had together in the Girl Beer Bar. Then later on in my condo when I found out that she was really in some deep shit. So why am I thinking of her now? Nine years have passed.
My favorite viking friend, Per, from Norway at the Girl Beer Bar
I am an old fart now. But I was an old fart even back then. Yet even now I oftentimes have this overwhelming desire to show off. Like last week when I performed a pole dance in a Naklua Soi 18 bar. And put it on you tube.
So why do I want to talk about this Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer now? For one thing we did this incredible pole dance together nine years ago.
Or at least I thought so. Perhaps it was all the tequila we had together.
But no. It wasn’t just the tequila I had. The German bar manager was so impressed by us that he came over and bought us both drinks.
Later he took me and my girlfriend up to show us his living quarters in the Girl Beer Bar. But I didn’t have a girlfriend on that last night I was with the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer. The girl and I were so whacked out that he never forgot us. We were having so much fun together. And then, the next morning, I got her a taxi. And never saw her again.
Several of the bar girls in the Girl Beer Bar.
A lot has happened since we did that pole dance nine years ago
The Girl Beer Bar owner and manager died. In Germany. The German’s partner who was celebrating his 80th birthday at that big party at the German Girl Beer Bar just died 2 weeks ago. The Thai mafia murdered Edie. She had owned the Malai Bar. They shot her in the head on Sukamvit Road because she owed the wrong people money. After that a restaurant owner friend of mine also got mixed up with the Thai Mafia. But I’m not going to talk about that here.
So now I feel compelled to tell the story about the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer and how she disappeared on me
Part I 12 years ago
I spotted her on Beach Road, across the street from Mike’s shopping mall, leaning against a tree. The freelancer was slender, with a firm belly, and very full breasts. They weren’t large. Or bulbous, and I found out later there was no silicon either. They were just bursting out of her slender frame. But now that I think about it from hindsight, I think she must have been lactating with her breasts full of milk.
God, did I want to take them into my mouth. So I took her back to my room and paid her for short time. I think it was only 500 baht back then. But it was the best 500 baht I ever paid. And it was the worse. It just depends on how you look at it.
She stayed in my room for just 20 minutes. It took only that long for me to come. And she wouldn’t let me as much as touch those glorious breasts of hers. She wouldn’t let me eat her either. And the bitch couldn’t wait to get away from me and get on with her next customer down by Mike’s shopping mall.
I took her back to my room two or three times. But it was always the same. “Don’t touch. And Keep your tongue inside your own mouth.”
That girl had total control of me. She was a complete bitch. But she was the sexiest girl I ever saw free lancing down on Beach Road. By a factor of ten.
Four years I meet the beautiful Beach Road Freelancer again
I had promised my pals that I’d meet them at the Beer Garden for beers at 8:30, and then we’d hit a few Walking Street go go bars together. Three years earlier I had bought a condo down on the beach in Naklua. So I tried to get a ten baht taxi on Naklua Road. But seven or eight Songtaews passed me. Their drivers totally not interested in picking me up. This pissed me off completely.
“Fuck it. I’m not getting any taxi tonight,” I told myself. I’m walking all the way even though it’s over two miles to the Beer Garden. Not one of these lazy songtaew drivers is making one dime off me tonight.”
With nasty thoughts in mind about all the terrible things I wanted to befall all Pattaya taxi drivers, I set out to the Beer Garden, running most of those two miles. While walking part of the way. And then I jogged up to the platform across from Mike’s shopping mall where a lot of free lancers hang out looking for customers. Then I heard one of the prostitutes calling out my name.
I stopped right in my tracks. Suddenly a trim attractive free lancer stood directly in front of my path.
“Jack. Do you remember me?” the girl asked.
I couldn’t believe it. Here she was, looking almost the same as she did four years ago.
And she remembered my name. And here I had been thinking that she despised me. Me and all her other customers. She looked pretty much the same except that her breasts looked a lot smaller now.
I told her I had bought a condo in Naklua since last seeing her. She acted surprised and pleased. I suppose she never expected me to put my roots down in Pattaya. Thinking I was just another tourist four years ago while I was renting a modest room near Soi 6.
I wanted her again. But I had promised my friends Id be meeting them for sure. And did. Was only ten minutes late too. In spite of walking and running the entire way. I mean “Who in the hell needs taxis anyway? Lazy motherfuckers.
But I managed to give the girl my phone number. And I told her I’d be finishing the go go bars around 11 when she promised to call me.
Good to her word she called me a little after 11 while I was taking a piss in a go go bar toilet.
Forty-five minutes later she was waiting for me just one block from my condo in front of the 7-11.
I had no live in girlfriend then and was paying go go girls 1000 baht to visit me at my condo
Back then I had six different girls from Super Girls Go Go stay with me in my condo for short times. But oftentimes they’d stay for several hours. I was also seeing a Soi Six girl who I was paying 800 baht to visit me. But like most Thai sex workers she turned out to be pretty much of a liar. But no matter. I had them coming and going back in those days.
My favorite girl from Super Girls at my condo.
I finally settled on a favorite go go dancer from Super Girls who eventually wound up getting big tits from silicon and company. Sometimes I’d have her meet me for a drink or two at the Girl Beer Bar before taking her back to the condo.
But my favorite Girl of them all turned out to be the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer
Yeah, I know. She was a complete bitch. But times had been a changing. I had my own condo now. So the girl knew I was for real. Staying in Pattaya all year long. Year after year.
She started staying with me for an hour at a time. This went on for a couple of weeks and then we’d start spending more time together out on my deck. Drinking and smoking cigarettes together. I’d be seeing her a couple of times a week. While paying her 800 baht.
She spoke much better English than most of the other girls. And she liked smoking cigarettes and so did I. So it was all so natural for us to just sit out there in the night smoking, and drinking whatever I had handy. But the more comfortable she got hanging around with me at my condo, the less comfortable she was getting with her situation.
She had a Thai boyfriend. Who oftentimes beat her, and who was taking most of her money she was getting off her customers.
She started telling me that he had started following her. And that he knew exactly where I lived. As for me, I had long ago figured out that most of those Beach Road freelancers have really nasty Thai Mafia boyfriends.
She liked me a lot. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be spending all that time with me. So I was figuring that we would last for a very long time together. Perhaps forever. But it would not last.
Our last night together
We had just had sex together in the master bedroom in my condo when I suddenly got the bright idea of taking her to the Girl Beer Bar.
Several of the ladies from Girl Beer Bar
A group of Germans ran the Girl Beer Bar. It was our absolute favorite bar in the entire world. The Girl Beer Bar had a good handful of pretty girls who used to dance out on the sidewalk in front of the place. Gus and I used to buy one or two bottles of Thai whiskey and then we’d sit out in front of the bar with several of the girls who we’d ply with alcohol.
Girl Beer Bar ladies drinking Thai whiskey at a table right on the sidewalk. Gus and I used to buy bottles of Thai whiskey from a nearby 7-11, and then we’d give it to the girls to loosen up.
The mamasan didn’t mind that we were getting all those bottles of Thai whisky on the cheap at a nearby 7-11. And neither did the German owners.
I used to bring girls into the Girl Beer Bar from the outside and ask my favorite girls what they thought of the girls I was taking home with me. But this night I really didn’t care what anyone thought of the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer. She was the epitome of cool. And I was so happy to have her with me.
Pole Dancing at the Girl Beer Bar with the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer
Nine years later, this is me, doing a pole dance at a Naklua Bar. I can still do it, but that last night with the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer, I was much better
********
The Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer was scared to death of her Thai boyfriend. Which was nothing new. But now she was certain that he had her under surveillance every time she visited me. Tonight she was in no hurry to leave me, so I asked her to spend the whole night at my condo.
Then I took her to the Girl Beer Bar. She struck it off extremely well with my bar girl friends there. So it didn’t take long before one or two of the bar girls started drinking with us. And the music was very good that night. Which was nothing unusual. It was a mix of Golden Oldies and contemporary music with a good beat.
Pai of Girl Beer Bar Fame. Pai was my leading confidant as she would always tell me what she thought of the girls I brought in from outside the Girl Beer Bar
I couldn’t believe it, but before long the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer and I were dancing together. While I started pulling out some dancing moves that I never knew I had.
She was a great dancer. And she was so self assured. I knew right then that she must have once been a go go dancer.
And not the run of the mill go go girls but one of the top girls wherever she worked.
By now we were drinking a lot. Beer and hard liquor. And certainly several shots of tequila. The other girls were really taking to her. Then suddenly I got the idea to try a little pole dancing.
Before the Germans got the Girl Beer Bar it had been a go go bar. There had been one of two tables with dancing poles in their centers. But the owners had removed the tables and poles to offer more space to their customers. But the center stage still remained with its pole.
It didn’t take much for me to get the beautiful beach road freelancer to join me on that center stage. By this time I was half drunk and 100 percent full of myself.
I had the number one girl in the entire bar with me. And this number one girl was enjoying herself immensely. As inebriated as I was, I knew I could still acquit myself well on a dancing pole. I had done it so many times before back in the United States. Most of the American strippers I knew couldn’t do it at all. But some could. And many of those far better than I’d ever be able to do it. Yet a lot of the good pole dancers had a lot of fun watching me do the pole. And showing me their best pole dancing techniques.
So here I was at the Girl Beer Bar. In Thailand no less. And I did it. Pulling myself up high on the pole I hung there by the pressure of my feet and one arm. And then I started twirling around the pole in a circle. Making several revolutions before I gravity finally put me on the platform.
Several of the Germans sitting close to the stage went wild. And so did my companion, the Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer.
Oh we were great together that night. But it was now her turn to strut her stuff. To show what she was really made of.
Since I had already figured that she had once been a top go go dancer, it didn’t surprise me to see her doing so well on the pole. And then up on that pole we climbed. Together. The rest is a blur. It was so long ago, and we both had a lot to drink that night. But when we finished our antics on the dancing pole, one of the Germans stood up and started clapping. The man then bought us both shots of tequila.
“That was wonderful,” the German told us. “You both were terrific.”
The German never told me who he was, other than his name. But it turned out he was the manager. I think the old German who owned all those restaurants and the go go in Bangkok owned 50 % of the Girl Beer Bar. Then there was Arno, who owned a piece of the Heidelburg Restaurant. And one or two others. But Walter was the general manager, and although he probably owned just a small piece of the bar, his fellow co-owners gave him several rooms upstairs that he made into an apartment. The rooms had been short time rooms when the bar had been a go go bar. Later on Walther would proudly show off his apartment rooms to my girlfriend and I.
The Beautiful Beach Road Freelancer and I had spent a fabulous night together
But it was our last night. I’d never see her again. Not ever.
The next morning she got me up real early. Then she asked me to get her a taxi. At first I thought she wanted a songthaew. Or motorbike taxi. Then she told me how scared she was. So we went to the hotel next door where I got her a real taxi that had blackened windows. NO one could see who she was in that taxi. Which had been her whole point. It was the first and only time I ever got a Thai sex worker a regular taxi. All of them, were only too happy to have me pay for their motorbike taxi rides home.
She had told me she was leaving her Thai boyfriend. Which she had certainly tried to do. Otherwise she would never have insisted on getting a regular taxi. After that I could never reach her on her telephone. I can’t remember, but I must have tried messaging her once or twice. And she never called me again. Or sent me any text messages.
But we had established a solid connection together. A connection that we solidified when we did that pole dance together. I still think of her a lot. Because she was one helluva cool lady.
A lot of good things came out of the Girl Beer Bar. Here’s a few links you might want to check out
