11th Commandment in Pattaya

In the years that I lived in Pattaya, my next door neighbors were Ann and David. He had been a UK fireman retired on disability.

A burning beam had struck him in the head.

Ann answered most farangs’ fantasy of a go-go spinner. 50 years old from London with a tendency to dress in frumpy English clothing few of their Thai neighbors regarded David as a prime catch for the snake-thin 20 year-old from the Isaan Plateau, yet the relationship weather the typical storms of a Thai- Farang union, until David decided to become a sailor.

His refitted Thai fishing boat cruised the coastal waters with ease, however when the whistle blew ‘all aboard’, Ann balked at her assignment as first mate. The captain punished the mutineer by beaching her in Pattaya, while he toured the Satthahip archipelago.

“I can find plenty of beautiful girls in Thailand,” he shouted, weighing anchor. “I have my looks, money in the bank, and a Mercedes-Benz.”

David wore ragged clothing better suited for a cult devotee. The Brit bore an uncanny resemblance to Weird Al Yanovic’s bastard brother, and his Benz was 30 years old.

Ann returned to his house to pick her things while he was still at sea. They fit into one plastic bag. Thai girls know how to pack. She sat in my kitchen complaining about David. “He want sex 5 times a day. He make me watch sex film. Dog and lady he like very much.”

“Stop, I’ve heard enough.”

“Okay, but you have friend want young lady.”

My ex-wife had abandoned me for six months. She was living in Ban Nok for the duration. Ann possessed more than a few attractions. She was skinny, cute, young, cooked, and endured sex 5 times a day with a raving crossdresser. I only wanted it twice a day and dressed in normal clothing. She crossed her shapely legs and smiled a laser beam of seduction.

“I might know someone.” More like three hundred someones and I contemplated having a slave auction at Jame Parker’s Pigpen A Go-Go. Girls like Ann earned 60,000 baht a month. Her departure was aborted by David’s arrival. He looked at her bag and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I leave you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I free. I not slave.”

The neighbors emerged from their houses to watch the street drama. Most were betting on David hitting Ann. It would not be the first time. His mental condition had cursed him with a short temper. I had to threaten him with a baseball bat once when he was strangling Ann. I never liked men hitting women.

He started shouting at Ann. I coughed loudly. David looked my way. I had a baseball bat in my hands. He was bigger than me by a couple of inches and 30 pounds. The baseball bat equalized the equation, but it wasn’t necessary, for Ann fell to her knees and cried through hands pressed to her face.

The tears sapped the fight out of David.

He knelt beside her. The neighbors retreated inside their houses. The show was over, for as Cato said, “There is no greater acid than the sight of a woman crying.”

The next day David pointed a finger at me.

“Don’t think I’m scared of that bat.”

“I know you can take a hit.” I was aware that I had made another enemy, because I had disobeyed Pattaya’s 11th Commandment.

“Thou shalt not get involved in anyone else’ bullshit.”

It’s a good advice.