We call the director of teachers at my company KGB. There's also Irish Dave, Scottish Dave, American Andy, Bendy, Flips, New Tom, Old Tom, Big Adam, Little Adam, Big Dean, Dave II, Techno Tara and Caz. Caz is short for Caroline, an abbreviation whose origin only the Brits seem to understand. Techno Tara was a self made nickname that made us all laugh so much it stuck with her as a running gag. Dave II isn't the only Dave, he's also not the second Dave but the actual second Dave is Irish Dave and so there's Dave, Dave II, and Irish Dave, the new Dave is Scottish Dave . Big Dean is one of two Deans and the other isn't exactly small, but Big Dean is really big. Big Adam and Little Adam is a fun one too because, if you can believe it I'm the little Adam. Old Tom and New Tom is pretty self explanatory, I haven't any idea how Flips became Flips except to say that he's neither New Tom nor Old Tom however his given name is Tom. American Andy is also pretty self explanatory but Bendy is my favorite. There is Ben H. and Ben D. and then Bendy came along who was also a Ben D. so everyone just called him Bendy. All these names are fun but the best is still KGB. She's a brick shaped lesbian with a mustache who would absolutely be considered a man if her real name wasn't Kate. She's from Belarus where the intelligence service is still called KGB and Kate's demeanor is indicative of the ice cold agents you imagine to be going through your personal belongings when you're not around. If you listen closely to her though, you can hear that she's got the driest, best sense of humor of the lot of us.
All of this fun about the names at work is great but the real excitement is getting there. Rolling out of bed at a quarter to six to take a cold shower before covering half my body in baby powder and crossing the street to one of the motorcycle taxi stands. I usually stop off at seven eleven as well to get bio milk, it's this milk that tastes like an orange creamsicle and has bacteria that is supposedly very helpful to your stomach in this country with its complete lack of health code enforcement. On the back of one of these motorbikes there is a sort of reckless abandon that reminds me of being eighteen and climbing on the back of my friend Scott's motorcycle to get driven down the street. That was about as dangerous as fighting a baby with an inflatable toy compared to this, but I suppose it was more the disobedient act (my parents would not have approved) rather than the actual danger of it that was exciting. I used to grip the back of the seat of the motor bike taxis so tightly my knuckles turned white, but now as we weave in and out of traffic I usually drink my bio milk with a blasé attitude. There's an imaginary bike lane that is about three feet wide and sits on the central dividing line between the two lanes of oncoming traffic. When it gets too busy the taxi will cross to the shoulder and hop us up onto the sidewalk. If that's not an option the opposite side walk is a last resort. Often times a detour through a parking garage or a shopping center plaza is the most appropriate path to where you're going. Whatever the route, these glorious individuals take faith to a whole new level as they pull out into traffic ahead of buses and trucks that come within a few feet of those paying patrons on the backs of bad bikes in a rush to reach the BTS. (Bangkok Mass Transit System)
Amazingly all the travel on these bikes hasn't spawned something I was certain would happen sooner or later, a close encounter with a bug. Of course it did happen eventually but not while I was on a motor bike.
I definitely just swallowed a gnat, a fly, something buzzing around in the air anyway. When I felt it the bugger was too far back in my mouth to be easily fished out. Also, there was a ladyboy waitress, one who'd waited on me a couple of times, standing there waiting for my order. I could have tried to extract it but I also might have gagged myself in the process. I didn't know what kind of kinky shit this tranny was or wasn't into but vomiting on a wait person during his/her shift is not going to go over well. I swallowed hard to try and bring the buzzless bastard down and for the time it took me to order, it worked. Then I could feel it, this speck of a thing that felt like a speck on the inside of the corner where my mouth turns into my neck. Still alive, this orally assassinated insect had been under the same impression I was, that the violent torrent of rain which had rudely erupted on my way home would subside shortly. As a result the best course of action was an early evening snack and a beer, however this little piece of protein didn't count on being the snack, cest la vie.
...at least that's how I described it that evening.
Another evening I found myself at one of the most posh clubs in Bangkok, at least the most posh club that doesn't charge my months salary for entry. It was models night and my friend had a photographer friend that got him a modeling card so he got in for free and, thanks to his friend, a host of his friends as well. I'd been out to this models night at other clubs, it was shit. If you ever want to be in a room full of beautiful looking people who ignore you then models night is for you. Of course after an hour and a half of dance and trying to strike up conversation I did meet someone. Here's the thing though, when you're in a room full of models it's pretty easy to be the ugliest person in sight and unfortunately since a models career is built upon pure esthetics what can be seen is really all that exists. So when I finally met someone it was of course one of these ugliest person in sight types. What's really sad is that she isn't even ugly, it's just a comparison thing. Kitty who's a make up artist at some magazine and got in to models night as part of the industry started showering me with free drink tickets and taking care of my friends too! After the first drink she wanted a kiss, after the second drink she wanted more, I suppose I can now relate to those women in bars that accept free drinks not knowing the repercussions of this wanton “hospitality.” Originally I tried to get the free drink with Kitty's ticket but the bartenders looked me up and down and asked if I was a model, apparently my yes wasn't convincing enough and they sent me away. Eventually I realized the real problem was probably that my clothes weren't ridiculous enough. The models wore the most outrageous things and I and my thrifty fashion sense did not fit in, that and I looked like Quazimoto compared to the other guys.
Eventually I left, before the other friends who came with me. Apparently not everyone found the horrid meat market of models night as annoying as I did, but there's something about models night that rings true in Thai culture. There's a definite surface level quality that is maintained in Thailand. If there's a problem the best course of action is to wait it out, to stall or avoid finding a solution as the solution will become simple neglect. Sweep it under the rug as one of the teachers at school says about his girlfriends conflict resolution method. However, there is a certain cultural ignorance in this observation because they say that Thailand is the land of smiles, and they're right. Everyone smiles at each other and the smiles mean many things. There's a smile that says oh so happy to see you. There's a smile that says go away and another for go away quickly. There's a fuck you smile and an I want to fuck you smile, surprisingly the two are quite similar. As a westerner the differences seem miniscule, a turn of the lip here or a dip of the head there, but to Thais the communicative power is unmistakable. This is perhaps why westerners don't understand the way that Thais approach conflict? Despite this though, relativity only goes so far and some things must be accepted as better or worse as well.
Good bye friends, and whenever you see a fly think of me and be happy it's not wiggling down your gullet.
Check back on the "A Life on Stage" post for some brilliant pics!
Stupid things boys actually do in Thailand
Can you see the smile on my face? It says, "Keep writing. I LOVE this blog!"
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