Two mornings ago I was making an overseas call at the phone booth in the Malaysia Hotel. A young bearded man entered the lobby with two young ladies. I had last seen Dice in Kathmandu 1990 after a ten-day trek to Lantang Glacier. Upon departure westward to Europe I had told Dice, if he was ever in Bangkok, then he should stay at the Malaysia Hotel and there was a good chance, if the Hawaiian passed through Bangkok next year I might be at the Malaysia Hotel. Room 203 overlooking the swimming pool. Dice was a no show in 1991.
One late night in May 1992 I was in the hotel lobby making an overseas call to my parents and spotted Dice. Two go-go girls in tow. Upon seeing me the thirtyish Hawaiian called out, "Pascha."
My Oriental pseudonym.
Dice was just in from Nepal and a long night at the go-go bars. He was having breakfast in the hotel's restaurant, which offered a restorative American breakfast. The girls were very happy. Thais are always hungry.
"Then sleep. I'm sending these girls home. They have probably had enough of me. I'll see you later."
We rendezvoused that afternoon at Kenny's Bar on Soi Si Bamphen. We drank Singhas that day, which was my 40th birthday.
After a few beers at Kenny's we told some girls we would be back after dinner and wandered over to the Chandrphen Restaurant, a top-notched Chinese chicken restaurant across from the Lumpini Muay Thai boxing stadium, where we finished off a bottle of small bottle of Mekong whiskey. The waiters invited us to a comedy club. I was drunk enough to allow myself to be dragged on stage by a troop of improvisers. They mocked me, but I grabbed the mike. I have no idea what I said, but I thought it was funny the Thai audience laughed at the farang fool.
Finally I was thrown off the stage gently. Todd said, "You're natural ham."
We were late for the rendezvous at Kenny's and rode a tuktuk over to Patpong. Despite being my birthday I wasn't in the mood for whoring. Maybe Bangkok's wild fun doesn't glitter as wickedly coming from Indonesia, instead of New York. Maybe it's all part my monastic onanism. I had passed through Bangkok three times this trip without bar-fining a single Go-go girl. The old age truck has hit me so hard.
40 and overweight. I don't know how many more years I've got to go. Decades I hope.
No pension plan. No retirement cabin. All I have two written books, a script, thirty or so journals, an East Village apartment, and a crapped-out Yamaha 650 on the sidewalk outside on the East 20th Street sidewalk, unless someone had stolen it in my absence.
Of course I also had my fading good looks and by the time I reach California I'm going to be in tip top shape ready for the conquest of the modern world of the West.
As I packed to check out of the Malaysia Hotel, I listened to Velvet Underground on a cassette player. NOTHING AT ALL. I won't be coming back here until next year after working at the Diamond District from September to January. Any possibility of my earning any cash from writing was probably decades away. My typing sucks and my spelling is worse.
Two days ago I had gone down the Victory Square. Hundreds of thousands of young people had been protesting for weeks against the military rule for weeks without any violence. The hometown troops would not shoot their neighbors friends and family. The generals ordered troops from the country. The fascists called the demonstrators communists and gave the order to shoot to kill. The rural Isaan soldiers killed hundreds of their countrymen to prevent democracy. But nightlife in Bangkok remained open under the harsh rule of High Society over Low Society. The murderous crackdown stilled the revolution. The King and his family were once more saved by the Army.
Today Bangkok remains under martial law.
I'm catching a bus to the South island of Koh Phi Phi. 14 hours overnight.
I wonder when I'll into into Dice again.
