somewhere else.”
“You just want to go to Nana,” said Nigel. “You're missing Joy.”
I gestured at a waitress. She ignored me.
One of the men at the door came over. He had a tattoo of a leaping tiger on one of his forearms. “Yes?” he said.
“The bill,” I said. He pointed at the far end of the bar. “Over there,” he said. He went back to stand by the door.
“We're in trouble, guys,” I said.
Nigel and Bruce exchanged looks. “What, come out without your wallet, did you?” said Bruce. “Anyway, it's my round.”
He and Nigel started giggling like a couple of schoolboys. They were drunk. They really didn't seem to appreciate the spot we were in. I went to the end of the bar. I didn't see a cash register or anything, but then I noticed that there was a corridor leading off to the right, out of sight of where we'd been sitting. At the end of the corridor was a group of five Thai men standing around a cash register. I walked towards them. They were big men for Thais, and most of them had tattoos or scars. My heart was racing. This was like no other go-go bar I'd ever been in.
I asked them for the bill and I was given a slip of paper. Two beers, 160 baht. One gin and tonic, 90 baht. Three shows, three people, 1,800 baht. Total, 2,050. About fifty quid, and we'd only been in the bar for ten minutes. I turned to go back to the bar but a hand gripped my shoulder.
“Where you go?” asked the biggest of the men.
I smiled. You always have to smile in Thailand, no matter how angry or scared you are. “I'm going to speak to my friends,” I said.
The five heavies followed me back to the table. I showed the bill to Bruce and Nigel. “Bloody hell, we're not paying that,” said Bruce, getting to his feet.
The heavies moved apart.
“Two thousand baht!” said Nigel. “They're trying to rip us off!”
“Gosh, really?” I said. “Get a grip, Nigel.”
Bruce began speaking to the men. I was surprised at how good his Thai was. The men shook their heads then one of them went off to fetch another man who I guessed was the manager.
Bruce spoke to him for several minutes, occasionally nodding at Nigel and me. Eventually he handed over three hundred baht and we were ushered out of the door.
“What happened?” I asked as we made our way down the stairs.
“I told him that we weren't tourists, that we worked in Bangkok. He wanted to know what we did, how long we'd been here. Chit chat.”
“And he let us off the bill?”
“He knew I knew the score,” said Bruce. "If push had come to shove I'd have just paid and then come back with the Tourist Police. They're not here to rip off locals, they just want to screw tourists who don't know any better. All I had to do was smile and tell him it wasn't fair.
Eventually he asked me how much I'd pay in a normal bar and I said three hundred baht, max.
He said he'd be happy with that."
“Speaking to him in Thai probably helped,” I said.
“Let me tell you about Thais, Pete,” said Bruce, patting me on the back. "Sometimes you think you're in trouble when you're really not. And sometimes when you think everything is hunky dory, you're in so much shit they’ll need a submarine to find you. Nothing is as it seems,
grasshopper.”
BRUCE I meant what I said about Thais. They're easy to rub up the wrong way, but if you handle them right, they're genuinely nice people. Take taxi drivers, for instance. The first time I came to Bangkok, I was always getting into arguments with them. They'd either get lost or not want to take me or they'd refuse to use the meter. Now I can speak a little Thai and I understand them a bit more. For one thing, Bangkok's huge, with twice as many people as London, and for another,
the road naming and numbering system is crazy. Roads meander all over the place and at times the numbering of houses seems almost random. It's not like England where the houses on one side are consecutive odd numbers with the even numbers on the other side.
“You just want to go to Nana,” said Nigel. “You're missing Joy.”
I gestured at a waitress. She ignored me.
One of the men at the door came over. He had a tattoo of a leaping tiger on one of his forearms. “Yes?” he said.
“The bill,” I said. He pointed at the far end of the bar. “Over there,” he said. He went back to stand by the door.
“We're in trouble, guys,” I said.
Nigel and Bruce exchanged looks. “What, come out without your wallet, did you?” said Bruce. “Anyway, it's my round.”
He and Nigel started giggling like a couple of schoolboys. They were drunk. They really didn't seem to appreciate the spot we were in. I went to the end of the bar. I didn't see a cash register or anything, but then I noticed that there was a corridor leading off to the right, out of sight of where we'd been sitting. At the end of the corridor was a group of five Thai men standing around a cash register. I walked towards them. They were big men for Thais, and most of them had tattoos or scars. My heart was racing. This was like no other go-go bar I'd ever been in.
I asked them for the bill and I was given a slip of paper. Two beers, 160 baht. One gin and tonic, 90 baht. Three shows, three people, 1,800 baht. Total, 2,050. About fifty quid, and we'd only been in the bar for ten minutes. I turned to go back to the bar but a hand gripped my shoulder.
“Where you go?” asked the biggest of the men.
I smiled. You always have to smile in Thailand, no matter how angry or scared you are. “I'm going to speak to my friends,” I said.
The five heavies followed me back to the table. I showed the bill to Bruce and Nigel. “Bloody hell, we're not paying that,” said Bruce, getting to his feet.
The heavies moved apart.
“Two thousand baht!” said Nigel. “They're trying to rip us off!”
“Gosh, really?” I said. “Get a grip, Nigel.”
Bruce began speaking to the men. I was surprised at how good his Thai was. The men shook their heads then one of them went off to fetch another man who I guessed was the manager.
Bruce spoke to him for several minutes, occasionally nodding at Nigel and me. Eventually he handed over three hundred baht and we were ushered out of the door.
“What happened?” I asked as we made our way down the stairs.
“I told him that we weren't tourists, that we worked in Bangkok. He wanted to know what we did, how long we'd been here. Chit chat.”
“And he let us off the bill?”
“He knew I knew the score,” said Bruce. "If push had come to shove I'd have just paid and then come back with the Tourist Police. They're not here to rip off locals, they just want to screw tourists who don't know any better. All I had to do was smile and tell him it wasn't fair.
Eventually he asked me how much I'd pay in a normal bar and I said three hundred baht, max.
He said he'd be happy with that."
“Speaking to him in Thai probably helped,” I said.
“Let me tell you about Thais, Pete,” said Bruce, patting me on the back. "Sometimes you think you're in trouble when you're really not. And sometimes when you think everything is hunky dory, you're in so much shit they’ll need a submarine to find you. Nothing is as it seems,
grasshopper.”
BRUCE I meant what I said about Thais. They're easy to rub up the wrong way, but if you handle them right, they're genuinely nice people. Take taxi drivers, for instance. The first time I came to Bangkok, I was always getting into arguments with them. They'd either get lost or not want to take me or they'd refuse to use the meter. Now I can speak a little Thai and I understand them a bit more. For one thing, Bangkok's huge, with twice as many people as London, and for another,
the road naming and numbering system is crazy. Roads meander all over the place and at times the numbering of houses seems almost random. It's not like England where the houses on one side are consecutive odd numbers with the even numbers on the other side.
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