Bangkok, Dangerous

Now that i’ve been off the ganja and alcohol for almost a month, a lot of past events are coming back and filling up those brains cells usually reserved for memory. I thought mine had gone defunct. But many stories are coming back. Many, many stories.

This one time in Bangkok, 4 years ago.

I was asked to go with the corporate team to Phuket, for a corporate event i had no interest in, or had no clue about. My job was sleeping all day at the Millennium Hotel, waking up for a fabulous buffet twice a day, playing music at night to a bunch of drunk corporate suits that wanked about with presentations and other such microsoft poop to get a promotion ahead of the wanker sitting next to him, and then heading out with the crew to get smashed. I had to do this for three days. Fortunately, there were a few real fun people in the 80-strong entourage.

That street in Patong, whatzisname, the one lined with strip clubs on both sides, that was the popular haunt. It was October. Tourist season, and the place was packed with wolves. Not like we didn’t have enough wolves from the office crew baying for hidden she-males, but this was a huge turnout. Sorta like NH7 Weekender, but with people you didn’t recognize.

Everyone from the CEO to the smallest sales guy was there. Seriously, who goes to Bangkok to discuss work? You could see it on their faces, they were just dying to get outta that banquet hall and dive straight into some strip clubs.

Strip-club hopping started at midnight. From Russians to the Indonesians, each club specializing in an exotic nationality. We went to 1, 2, 3, 4, and by the 5th i was bored as fuck. I didn’t wanna see any more tits. I just wanted to walk down the street, maybe find a place with good music. And two other ladies from the crew wanted out too. So off we went.

That’s when it hit me.

I could barely walk straight. I was SMASHED. Ever seen a drunk cow walk? Well, imagine one.

I was that cow.

We walked (I stumbled) into three different clubs. The girls got hassled by horny aussies and brits so they didn’t fancy staying long. So we stepped out for a bite. A bite, at 4 am on the busy streets of Patong was either kebabs, or corn on the cob, my favourite. 

We got to one couple selling corn, i got mine. I told the lady to make mine extra salty. I took my first bite.

And then, it happened. I fell in love.

With the woman selling corn. No really. I did. I kept pestering her, told her how much i loved her. All the time layering more salt on my corn.

‘I LOVE YOU!’, i told her. About thirty five times. Maybe more.

Here’s the strange bit. The woman, she was wearing a burkha.


So on a street filled with the semi naked women of Bangkok and Vietnam and Indonesia and Cambodia and Russia and Estonia and the fucking Bermuda triangle and even hotter she-males, i fell in love with a woman wearing a burkha. Professing it loud in the middle of the street, all the time adding more salt to my corn.


*applies more salt to the corn and chomps it down and there’s corn and salt all over my face BUT IT’S OK COS i’M IN LOVE*


The next day the ladies told me there was more salt on that corn than in the indian ocean.

Finally the woman lost it. She pulled a knife on me, and started screaming something in Thai, something i remember only as being really high pitched. Very high pitched and non-stop. Non-stop That screaming non-stop high pitched words that at the time sounded very romantic to me.


Drama in Patong.

I did not relent. I wanted her to say she loved me too. I’m a grown man. I don’t take no for an answer.

The two ladies who accompanied me had to jump in front of me, grab my neck and drag me off, while one convinced the woman it was not worth her effort, stabbing me. The other screaming at me, telling me to SHUT UUUUP. Burkha woman’s husband grabbing her from behind.


In the middle of the horniest street in Patong, there’s an Indian dude being dragged away by two women half his size, saving his life from a maniac burkha-clad knife-wielding woman half their size, who’s being dragged away by her husband.

All this for love.

I woke up the next morning on a bench outside KFC in my boxers. That part i’m still trying to recall.


About johnny b

dj, writer, yoga instructor, traveler, moonwalker, headbanger, mind expander. View all posts by johnny b

3 responses to “Bangkok, Dangerous

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