Tottenham Nick and I were watching the riots in London at Maggie's Bar on Soi Concrete. The dissatisfied were burning down his local Pizza Hut. Next up was McDonalds.
"Wankers will be crying tomorrow about not having anything to eat." Nick was a Hotspurs fan. The rioters could burn down Buckingham Palace for all he cared. White Hart Lane Stadium was another matter. "England ain't England no more. Too many wankers. White, black, and the in-betweens. Can you put something else on the TV. Don't matter what."
The bargirls were more than happy to change the channel. A Thai soap opera at low volume. A trio of old-timers mumbled about their choice. Tottenham Nick gave them a snarl. They went back to drinking their beer and we continued reminiscing about the good old days in Pattaya, when your mates were bank robbers, fugitives from justice, and gamblers.
Two beers later Convict entered Maggie's covered with sweat. The mid-day sun brutalized Soi Concrete. Convict sat at the bar and ordered a whiskey and coke. The 40 year-old Aussie was no beer drinker. He wasn't a convict either. Nick called all Roos 'convicts' because of the decades of penal transportation from England. The only non-convicts were the Abos and 'convicts' hated the real Australians.
Convict had attempted to bend his bloodline by joining John Hop. His career as a olice officer ran of the roaft when he had accused his fellow Blue Meanies of corruption at a Bushie pub after drinking a slab of beer. The toe cutters at Internal Affairs wanted him for questioning. The other coppers were eager to teach him the path of righteousness. Convict was lucky to get out of the Lucky Country alive.
"How it go last night?" Nick asked pulling out a cigarette. Public smoking was banned in Pattaya. Nick felt that he could burn a fag, since his arrival in the Last Babylon predated most laws.
"Buffalo Bar, Soi 8, Walking Street. Drunk as a Pommie bastard." Some of the sweat oozing from his reddened face was excess alcohol. "But I was toeier than a Roman sandal and decided to find a Map of Tassie."
"Could you speak English, you Aussie cunt?" Nick had a fly's patience with dialects other than his native London.
"I was looking for some female company." He downed his whiskey in a single go.
"Not an impossible mission in Pattaya." Success ratio was 100-300% depending on your stamina.
"Last night was." Convict spoke in a hushed voice and signaled the skinny bartender for another drink. "I was shot down 5 times."
"Five times. You must have been pissed drunk." Nick was shocked by Convict's admission.
“Once or twice I can see, but five times.” Back in 2007 I had been told by a Phnom Penh bargirl a woman that she didn’t go with men. I had accepted her excuse with disbelief, since she had visited the upstairs recreation room with another gent earlier in the evening. It was no loss of face, although Nick had been with me and he loved retelling the story.
“The first rejection was on Soi Eight. I bought the girl a couple of drinks and then invited her back to my place. She said she had a sick aunt in town and couldn’t go.” He sipped at his whiskey with a wounded expression.
“At least she lied to make you feel better.”
“I figured I could right this situation by going to a go-go bar on Beach Road. A cute girl was dancing naked on the stage. I asked her the same question. She said she could go short time. Went to get her things, and then disappeared with a Japanese man.”
Convict shrugged and signaled for another whiskey. The first one had gone down fast.
“That’s only because she wanted more money.” Nick never went home with go-go grips. They were more trouble than a truckload of cats.
"The girls never turn down a Jap. They pay more and come like a rabbit on crack. Working girls say only Chinese men cum faster."
“She asked for 2000 baht.”
“And you countered with 1500.” Nick and I were of the same mind, but basement bargaining for a girl’s body cut against the grain. “So this was a financial disagreement. What about #3?”
“I went to the Street behind Tony’s. There was a girl at a beer bar. She had nice eyes. I like bar girls better than go-go girls anyway.”
The trio of old-timers were surreptiously listening to Convict. This wasn't the usual bullshit story
“I bought her a drink and then after the appropriate amount of chitchat popped the question about coming back to my place to watch some movies.”
“Art films?"
Convict’s porno collection was as legendary as his museum of dildos.
“They help set the mood.” Convict smiled impishly. “She said she would love to, but she was working as the cashier. Couldn’t leave.”
“Cashiers rarely go with farangs.” I’d hit on many and gotten nowhere.
Convict agreed that he had been fooled into thinking she was into the game. “It was getting late and decided to go back to soi 8. Maybe the first one would change her mind. She wasn’t there. The mama-san said she had a sick aunt. Another girl started talking to me. I popped her the question. She said she would, but had her period. I said I didn’t care if she was on the rag.”
“Rejection #4.” Convict’s night was like my trawling the bars in Manhattan. A land of No followed by a taxi ride to an empty apartment. “But you didn’t give up.”
“No, but I had one more try in me.”
“Where?”
“I’m not saying.”
Nick had heard enough and shouted, “The last one was at home. Even his hand wouldn’t fuck him.”
The bar laughed and so did Convict. There were plenty of nights I didn’t want to go home with me after drinking myself into near-oblivion.
“No, I’m not saying who #5 was.”
The bar begged for a confession. Convict locked his lips. “I’m not saying.”
I was the only one who caught the eye of the girl behind the bar. She was missing a front tooth, but was pretty in a bony way. This bar was on Convict's way home. She smiled with a slyness betraying who was #5.
“Guess it’s over to Soi half-dozen.” Convict was headed to Pattaya’s notorious short-time bars. “No one gets shot down there.”
We wish him luck, but no one accompanied him to Soi 6.
Nick lifted his beer.
“Last thing I need is Convictitis. I get enough of that back in London.”
“And New York.” Within a month I’d be back in Manhattan. I didn’t hear any nos until then, because Fenway's mother has a headache and it’s never a good time to ask for love when Mint has one of those.
Not if I know don't want to be refused for the 5th time in a week.
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