Previously published May 24, 2023 My flight to Kathmandu was leaving this morning. Hot outside on Soi Duplee 94. The lobby of the Malaysia Hotel was comfortably cool. I told Dawn to wait a few minutes. My taxi was waiting outside. The desk connected me with a collect call to New York. I caught Richie at home. He accepted the charges and after hearing about the Bangkok nightlife he complained, “I haven’t had anyone to drink with since you left. New York sucks. The clubs suck. The drug sucks.”
"I drink with everyone. Irian Jaya, Bali, Sumatra, and Penang. I don't have to speak with them or understands them, but I still talk. It's still good fun. Especially here. The Thais love to have a good time." There had been other places. Pink Panther on the Jakarta docks had been one of my favorite. Wicked beyond belief.
"I wish I was with you."
"Maybe next year."
I didn't have any friends here, but Dawn waved from the lobby. I smiled. She smiled back.
"Seen any lepers?"
"I saw them in every country. Hiding from the sunlight. Stumps of hands and feet. Gnarled faces."
Sounds like New York."
50,000 beggars and madmen have been freed from the upstate mental hospitals, which the state are closing obstentively to bring them into outreach programs, but it was just to cut costs. The mad of New York have been ravaged by the wars, poverty, greed, and neglect. There was no saving them nor will Buddha save the desperate souls of Bangkok.
Luck had saved me from that fate. That and selling diamonds for Manny, Richie's father. A real job on 47th Street.
“When are you coming back?”
Maybe I’ll spend time in Paris and London.”
In Singapore I had spoken with Rick Temerian, my compatriot in lone male syndrome, on the Direct USA Phone. We planned to meet in Paris at the end of May.
I had no reason to be in America. The Knicks had knocked out the Celtics. I had friends in Paris and London. I had worked in both. I could work there again on my fake carte de sejour.
“But I seriously thinking about moving out here. If you want to join me next year, then start saving your pennies. Departure date. Jan. 2, 1991. Although I don’t know, if I can last that long in the USA. I’d love to leave forever.”
Not that anywhere else was better than America, however I knew its evils too well.
“Good luck in the Himalayas.” Richie laughed, "I'm stuck with my father and so are you. Your job will waiting here."
"Thanks." I kept it short having covered the reason for the call. Back in New York I still had a motorcycle, an apartment, and a job in New York.
I hung up and joined Dawn. The diminutive gogo girl had been a good companion. She actually looked sad to see me go. I slipped her another 1000 baht. She wai-ed me and said, "You come back. See me. Love you long time."
I wai-ed her back, wishing she was coming with me. I am a fool.
The ride to the airport through the traffic took an hour. I had another hour and a half until my flight's departure. I grabbed a Bangkok Post and a Singha beer in the lounge area. My wrist was itchy under the cast from the motorcycle accident. I couldn't reach the itch and downed another Dilaudid. Men were saying good-bye to girlfriends. Some are sad. Other men are greeting their friends. They are happy. This must be the Hello-Goodby Lounge.
The terminal loudspeaker called for all Kathmandu passengers. I finished my beer and proceeded through customs and passport control. None of the officials paid me any mind. Iwas just another farang or foreigner leaving the Land of Smiles. The Thai Air flight plane took off on time and I left Thailand for the first time. I would be coming back soon.
LATER
Eight klicks below are the arid rice fields of Burma, burnt brown and begging for the monsoon. The rumors of the military’s corruption, forced migrations, massacres, and starvation are not rumors. I had been on the northern Thai-Burma border. Drug lords and Karin rebels fight the junta. No one wins these wars, but there is too much is at stake to surrender. Neither Thailand nor the USA will cut off ties with Myammar. Heroin was why the French and America fought long wars to control the drug trade. They had never stood a chance of winning. These countries are not France or America.
I had seen one temple in Bangkok.
Wat Patpong. The capitol of the sex trade in the City of Angels. Go go bars, beer bars, and short-time bars. Short of 40 I'm almost a young man there.
Why did I leave the Malaysia Hotel and Dawn?
We had spent the last three nights together. $25 per evening plus bar fine for the mama-san of her go-go bar. She toured the city with me, but her main pleasures were sleeping and watching , while she watched Thai soap operas on TV non-stop, while I wrote. We didn't talk much, but last night when I said I'm leaving, naked in bed the young dancer had said, "Why go see mountains when you can see me."
I had enough money for another month with her. I hadn't answered, but I had been looking forward to seeing the highest mountains in the world. She wai-ed me, as I got into the taxi. I wai-ed back. Thankfully not shaking her hand. THe Thais are very shy.
"Come back see me. Love you long time."
I smiled and thought I hope I do.
LATER
Customs and immigration were easy. This is a small airport. A taxi driver shows me a card of a hotel. He will get a little money for bring me there. I found this to be a safe way to find someplace the stay. The guest house is mentioned in the Rough Guide. Driving down from the airport we passed a golf course, the grass withered yellow. Soldiers are everywhere. The pro-democracy wave has washed over Asia. Students are calling for the abolishment of the kingdom.
This evening at the hotel I met Lance. A New York architect. We have agreed to trek into the mountains together and hired a team of porters through the hotel. I sit on the roof, drinking a Kingfisher beer, watching the sun light up the snowy peaks of the Himalayas. One of them might have been Everest. I took out my Nelles map and looked again. there were too many mountains to count. I was in Kathmandu.
Dorge the guide, will arrange trekking permits in the next few days. He points out the peaks. We have a Nepali cook and Sherpa porters for an early morning departure in two days, which is a good thing, because I hear gunfire. The army are shooting the students. I leaned over the balcony. The soldiers were savagely beating protestors with long batons. More shots ring out. Close. A young bearded trekker pulled me away to safety.
He introduces himself and said, “You were stupid."
“How so?”
“You should have brought two go-go dancers from Pat-Pong.” Todd was from Hawaii. He stared at the cast on my wrist. I gave no explanation.
“So they can ask, “Where Tee-vee?” No thanks.”
I was here for the mountains.
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