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Embarassment
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Today’s blog is about the most embarrassing thing I ever remember happening to me.
Every story starts somewhere, and choosing the beginning is sometimes the most difficult part of telling a story. I think I’ll start mine on Saturday night to put it in context of a long and often unpleasant weekend.
On Saturday night I was in a bar drinking, and on the other side of the bar was a big bloke. His biceps were the size of my thighs, and his right shoulder was covered in a tattoo. He had a shaved head, a Hulk Hogan mustache and an Aussie accent. This was the kind of guy I think of when I hear the song from Men at Work, ‘the Land Downunder’. In short, he was hard to miss.
I was drinking beer steadily, and playing a dice game with one of the bartenders, steadily losing my money to her 40 baht at a time. Meanwhile, I was buying whiskeys for a service girl and trying to enjoy the sanuk atmosphere. I didn’t know it yet, but I was a few hours away from falling asleep in my room and having my money, digital camera and mobile phones stolen by a dishonest freelancer.
Meanwhile, in the bar, at some point, the massive Aussie said or did something more than just sit in his mountain-like fashion, which caused me to notice him specifically. I don’t remember what it was, but for some reason I decided to address him across the bar, calling across a space of perhaps six or seven meters. The question I asked him was this: “What do you do in Oz?”, which I felt was a friendly inquiry.
He shot back sharply, “I’m not gonna tell ya.”
end of conversation.
Fast forward to Sunday. I had a long afternoon. After waking up to find my cash and electronic gadgets stolen, I needed to go to Central World shopping center to the DTAC service center to replace my SIM card.
Having just returned from a long trip upcountry, most of my clothes were dirty, including all of my underwear. I made the decision to go ‘commando’. I only mention this because later events made it relevant.
I walked to a nearby shop and used my credit card to buy a new phone; a 3,000 baht replacement for my Nokia 2630, which I had bought just days before going up-country because I needed the bluetooth capabilities.
To get a replacement SIM card I was gonna need to go to Central World with my passport.
It was Sunday and I had no cash in my wallet, no money in my bank account and no credit on my BTS card. Central World was far away, but it wasn’t gonna get any closer if I waited, so I started walking. It was early afternoon but it was thankfully cool since I was slightly hung over.
In my right pocket I had my passport and in my left I had my new phone. In my back pocket I had my wallet.
An hour later I was at Central World, and the folks at DTAC were very helpful. They apologized that they would not be able to recover my contacts list from my SIM card, but didn’t explain why. What they were able to do was print out all the calls I made from my phone in the last 60 days so that I could try to reconstruct my contacts list in part.
I left the DTAC shop and was very pleased to find that the branch of Bangkok Bank in the shopping center was open. I went inside and took a 5K advance on my credit card so I had some walking around money until Wednesday.
It’s not far from Central World to Soi Nana, so, even though I’d already been walking, I strolled up to Soi 4 rather than take the train just one or two stations. I went to the Big Mango Bar to get a jalapeno burger.
My plan was to return home after lunch and do my laundry, but my friend the Dude called me while I was eating. He was at Gulliver’s and wanted me to join him. I did so a little after 3 p.m.
Five hours later we’d both consumed enough drinks that the evening was pretty relaxing. The Dude went home to watch a video, and I went alone to the same bar I’d been in the night before. I sat on the same stool, drank a couple of pints and bought a couple of drinks for the same service girl.
Somwhere around eleven or midnight I decided I’d had enough. I invited the service girl to accompany back to my place; an offer which she politely but firmly rejected. Mildly disappointed, I took off. I soon found myself wandering into Nana Plaza in search of some distraction.
I went first to Mandarin Bar where one of my ‘regular’ girls works… a sure thing who’d been calling me often in recent weeks. She saw me come in the bar, walked up and apologized, saying that she had a customer who had just barfined her. Too bad.
I then went back to Rainbow 1 where I’d seen so many lovely girls on Friday night. The lineup was slightly less stellar on Sunday, but there were two girls who looked very good as they shuffled onstage. I asked the waitress to call #23 over for me — a beautiful little girl who seemed like she might be the one to break my streak of bad luck.
She wasn’t. She seemed very lackluster, and when I asked why she said that she had a toothache. Perhaps it was true. In any event, she wasn’t gonna be the girl for me, so I paid up my bill and left quickly.
I wandered around the Nana area for a while, but I just couldn’t find a girl to my liking. My mind drifted back to the service girl I’d been buying drinks for all night. Maybe I should go back and try again.
I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in the three days since I got back to Bangkok, and this was just one more. I went back to the bar, and the service girl who had turned me down was now enjoying the attentions of another fellow. I sat down at the bar and ordered a pint while she played footsie with the other guy. She eventually left with him.
All of this may explain my mood. I was tired, a bit intoxicated and surly. I was in the same state I’d been when I walked out of my apartment in the early afternoon — tee-shirt and long pants, no undies, passport, phone and wallet in my pockets.
The mountain like Aussie came in and sat across the bar in about the same position he’d occupied last night.
Eventually he looked across the bar at me and asked, “How are you?”
My response was out of my mouth before I knew I’d spoken. Here’s what I said: “I said g’day to you yesterday and you told me to go fuck myself, so how do you think I am?”
Man-mountain rumbles up to his feet and comes slowly around the bar. He gets next to me and whispers in my ear, “You asked me what my job was and I told you I wasn’t gonna answer. I don’t want to holler my personal business across a bar, okay?” and then he ambled back to his stool without another word.
Well, as far as I was concerned that was no kind of answer. He could have said anything when I’d spoken to him; he could have said he was a consultant or that he danced ballet.
Here I was on Sunday night in a very grumpy mood, and I sat glowering towards man-mountain who went on enjoying himself and not paying any attention to me at all.
I downed another two pints and I’d say that by this point I was drunk.
Finally man-mountain decided he’d had enough of my bad attitude and came around the bar again. He spoke, “We got off on the wrong foot. My name’s Ian, nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, told him my name and he went back to his spot. I called the bartender over and said to send a drink to Ian on my tab.
Fifteen minutes later it was time to turn out the lights and say goodnight. I was the last reluctant drunk to leave the bar.
Here’s where things went really wrong.
I decided to walk over to soi 4 to see if I could spot Saturday night’s thieving freelancer, but no luck.
I looked around for a likely lass to take home with me but no one appealed. I finally decided to just grab a taxi home. To do that I was gonna need to walk back across Sukhumvit Road.
For some reason I can’t explain, I went past the crosswalk before I decided to cross the street. This meant that I needed to get across the median strip in an awkward space in the middle of the night.
I crossed the street and when I reached the median strip I hopped lightly up over the curb and I disappeared.
This being Thailand, there was an open sewage pit with no cover and nothing around it to alert you to the potential danger. It was about 4 feet across and two meters deep. I fell directly into the hole, landing on my back in 12 inches of the smelliest, foulest water I’ve ever been in contact with.
Thank God I’d been drinking, because I fell in this cement pit without actually hurting myself.
In moments there were several Thai men peering in the hole and offering to help me. I realized later that they were astonished drivers who’d been in their cars and seen me cross the road in front of them and disappear.
The hole was too deep for them to reach me. I was flat on my back and the space was tight, so I was struggling to sit up. Finally the futility and stupidity of the situation got to me and I started laughing maniacally. I laughed for twenty or thirty seconds. I’m sure the Thai men looking in from above thought that I was a crazy farang. They probably figured I was high.
I finally managed to stop laughing and sit up, probably looking very turtle-like in my efforts to get off my back in the cramped space. I managed to climb up out of the concrete pit on my own. I thanked the Thai guys for their concern, assured them I was okay, then hopped across the street.
I was soaking wet. I realized immediately from the reaction of others on the street that I reeked of raw sewage.
The smell was indescribable, and it was powerful.
There was no way I could get in a taxi like this, so, fourteen hours after setting out on a long walk from my apartment, I started walking back soaked and smelly.
I was still carrying the plastic bag with the box for my new phone and the number printout from DTAC. Somehow, through all of this I had never let go of the bag.
I started to take stock of my condition. My pants had ripped wide open. The seams along the insides of my pants legs were open nearly to the knees, and the seat had ripped out of the back of my pants.
Remember, I had gone out without any underwear in the afternoon, so my tackle was hanging out exposed. I used the large plastic bag in my hand to maintain some level of modesty.
I checked my pockets. My brand new mobile phone was in my left pocket and had taken a good soaking for a minute or two while I lay in the fetid cesspool. I now checked and it was unresponsive when i pressed the buttons. I opened it up, removing the battery and the SIM card and dropped the separate components into the plastic bag.
I found my passport was soaked and stinking. I moved it to the plastic bag as well.
I started trudging along the miracle mile, doing my best to walk in the street and stay far enough away from people that they wouldn’t smell me. Dozens of hookers made advances towards me before catching a whiff. A parade of taxis pulled over blowing horns and offering rides. If they only knew….
I was trudging fairly slowly, so it probably took more than an hour to get home.
I was somewhere near Petcheburi station when one lady, 40-ish and bulky, approached me asking me to come into her building for a massage. I pointed out my condition and she, bless her heart, walked right up to me in spite of the stink, held my hand and said that she’d bathe me and massage me if I’d just come inside. I thanked her, withdrew my hand, and continued my trek.
Arriving home, the security guards were very discreet about not asking what happened, or commenting on my shriveled penis which was displayed indiscreetly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. I managed to get up to my room and in the door with a minimum of fuss.
I washed — boy did I wash — before gong to sleep, but when I woke up this morning I still smelled like a putrid body. I’ve showered at length twice more this morning. My right arm is ripped up. It looks like I fell off a motorcycle and slid along the pavement for a while on my arm. I have a cramp in my left calf muscle that won’t go away, and there’s a nasty scrape on my right leg. I have an incredible red rash between my thighs from walking an all day — especially the last hour or so in soaking wet cotton pants.
And I still stink.
I feel like I always will.
I’ve tested the mobile phone this morning, and it seems to have dried out without any permanent damage. My passport will probably always carry an odor to remind me of the incident. I’m sure I’ll have to replace my wallet. I can’t imagine the smell will ever leave it.
God I smell bad.
There’s a swim club near my house. I’m tempted to go over and pay a membership fee just so I can immerse myself in chlorinated water for the rest of the afternoon.
All in all, my return to Bangkok, while memorable, hasn’t been very glorious.
I may just stay inside the house for the next few days….
Right now I’m gonna go take another shower.
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Leave a response
5 responses so far
July 19th, 2008 at 8:40 am
The glamorous life of sex tourist! Thailand really does attract the finest of breeds.
July 19th, 2008 at 10:06 am
You literally rolled yourself in the dirt! TIT
July 30th, 2008 at 3:48 am
Damn dude…..well at least you got your health!hahahah
September 25th, 2008 at 9:46 pm
This is god’s way of telling you not to drink so much.
only kidding about god but you might think about it.
September 25th, 2008 at 9:47 pm
This is God’s way of telling you not to drink so much.
Okay, I’m only kidding about god but you sure might want to drink less.