When I first began researching my upcoming Thailand venture, I read that Pattaya, Thailand is considered the prostitution capital of the world. I wasn’t sure how statistics could be measured for such an assertion considering that my knowledge of prostitution thus far portrayed it as an underground sex ring version of Fight Club, where you didn’t know about it until you were initiated into the club. Upon entry into the so-called prostitution capital, it became quite clear from where the nickname emerged. Old sleazy white men with beer guts and fanny packs walk down the street holding hands with scantily clad Lucite-heel wearing small Thai women either looking awfully uninterested or drugged into feigned ecstasy. On my 6:30 am run, Pattaya beach crawls with nightwalkers up for an early game of cat and mouse. I’m not sure what type of man greets the sunrise with an Asian hooker, but to me that sounds a lot like eating meatloaf for breakfast. It’s difficult getting used to turning every corner in the city to find bars lit up with fluorescent pink lights flooded with bored and surgically created women waiting to proposition male passerby hoping to eventually make a western client her western boyfriend. Most of these sexual endeavors begin with a wordless meal or a wordless walking hand hold session, which I’ve witnessed more times than I have appendages to count.
It’s strange that after only three weeks in Asia and I’m beginning to become desensitized to the sight of an old sweaty man canoodling in a restaurant booth with a teenage Asian boy who playfully twists his nipples and rubs his wrinkly thighs. Well maybe not that sight, but the sight of old white men slithering along through bars in their Capri pants and see-through white shirts looking to find someone who they can pay to find them non-repulsive barely raises an eyebrow. Regardless of my disgust towards the subject, the group made a collective decision to check out Walking Street after a long day of teaching. We all had classes at 8 am the next morning, so we planned on a short night. For those of you who don’t know what Walking Street is, Google it. In few words it’s Pattaya’s source for nightlife. In my words it’s Neverland for Perverts. Fluorescent flashing lights beam from every angle and you can’t make a sudden head turn or you may begin to seize. I also forgot to mention that this particular night we decided to go was also Halloween, which doesn’t mean much for the people of Walking Street, who don costumes most nights anyway. I am immediately handed a laminated menu offering the finest assortment of sex show performances a predator get off to. Chris Hanson could fund early retirement in this joint.
The menu read anything from “egg in pussy” to “ping pong in pussy” to “boy fucking girl.” In addition to the obvious disgust, I also noticed that the translation for marketing materials is seriously lacking. I’ve seen places called “shoes here” and a lotion called “nice lady cream.” Anyway, my mouth remains agape as I read through the sex show acts and try and internally picture each occurring. Apparently so was everyone else and the hows and whys needed to be explained, firsthand. In other words, we were going to a sex show. The show itself cost 200 baht, which is roughly 6-7 dollars. Now, for a show where a dirty old man could potentially wallet his way into some asian hooker’s weekend schedule of fellatio, six bucks seems rather cheap. But considering most of my meals cost a dollhair, forking over six bucks to see awkward sex in some dark room upstairs awakened my inner Jew and I contemplated sitting this round out at some bar where I wouldn’t be paying to watch a woman stick a chicken fetus in her snatch.
I was readily convinced when we discovered our cover charge came with some free alcohol, regardless if it was laced with opiates or not. As we walk in to a surprisingly well lit room with a catwalk type stage, the first thing I notice is not the asian woman sitting crab-walk style on the stage blowing up balloons with her feminine parts, I notice the array of normal looking younger men and foreign couples ready to watch the show just missing a bowl of popcorn. I must admit it made me feel like much less of a pervert knowing we weren’t the only non-fetish pedophilia in attendance. We were seated next to a pole at the other end of the stage from vagina clown and directly across from three young British boys getting their members massaged by strippers who may or may not have penises. I smiled in delight at the thought of three strapping lads getting a midnight surprise when they tried to take big foot and friends home for a joy ride. Then again, I’ve heard the plastic surgeons in Pattaya are near miracle workers.
Unaware of what lie next, I watch as a cave troll in the 45-50 age range hobbles her old ass up the stairs onto the stage and holds up a bottle of coke. As a literary feign I already understand the foreshadowing repercussions involved in her passing the coke from audience member to audience member and motioning for them to attempt to open it and I politely decline to touch an object that I’m 99% sure is about 15 seconds away from being shoved into her dusty old vagina. Lo and behold, she retrieves the coke bottle from the audience, crouches down in their standard crab walk position and pops open the bottle with her Virginia. And as if prying the metal cap off of the bottle weren’t enough, she proceeds to toss the cap into a group of hairy brown gentlemen who part faster than the Red Sea fearing a vag-cap to the face. I’m not sure what souvenirs they were hoping to bring back from Pattaya, but I’m certain that wasn’t one of them. Basically what I took away from that performance was that Asians must kegel their way into a Gatorade opening frenzy.
Next a very tall “woman” comes onto the stage and disrobes, the music turns up and she begins dancing on the pole directly in front of us, while repeatedly making only eye contact with her reflection in the mirror behind us. She then grabs a few foam noodle things and motions for people to violently spank her with them. Then she giggles. Then she fluffs her hair in the mirror and awkwardly moves along the stage with her size 12 feet. Meanwhile 6 or 7 unattractive women ages ranging anywhere from 17 to 70 are on the other side of the stage showing off their stretch marks and untailored tummies in the most uncomfortable dancing I’ve seen since my grandma used to do the walk and fart dance number. The interesting thing about Asian women’s idea of being sexy for foreigners is that their perception of sexy lies somewhere between playfully silly and completely traumatizing. Not to mention that there existed no sort of intermission or transition between acts so it was hard to keep track of what was entering and exiting bodily cavities at any given moment. The women at the other end of the stage began dancing but by minute five were obviously bored and had started to socialize amongst themselves…while still performing on stage with an audience of people scratching their heads hoping this is part of the act. At one point or another they all just walk off and a tiny little woman with the body of a 12 year old Chinese gymnast circa Beijing 2008 and the face of a 60 yr old Korean prison guard walks onto the stage and places a thin towel down. She lies on her back and retrieves a pack of cigarettes from her skirt. When I realize what this woman was about to do, I couldn’t help but wonder why the comfort of her back was high on the priority list when she was about to shove a pack of Marlboro reds into her twat. She uncomfortably sits there puffing away from downstairs while everyone watches silently, not sure what sounds or motions a human could produce in response to such a sight. But after each act, the women come around with a basket, pretty much demanding tips and when refused sit there eating your soul for a good fifteen seconds of uninterrupted asian death eye contact.
For the next forty-five minutes we watch everything from women playing ping-pong using ball-to-cooter method to another grizzly old broad extinguishing an entire cake topped with birthday candles via queef. A wonderfully talented Vag Goh stuck a marker into the great beyond and drew some interesting pictures with her cooch. In less than an hour I watched more inanimate objects stuck inside a human body than a butt doctor at a free clinic in Amsterdam. And each time I looked a the object the woman held and thought ‘she’s not really going to stick that up there,’ but those Asians will and did. There is many a sight in Thailand that one wouldn’t likely forget for the duration of their time on earth and the Asian sex show surely fits into that category. There are more Asian hoo-haa images engrained into my memory than I’d like to attest to, but as in most of life’s adventures it makes for a great story. Now if only I could get the taste out of my mouth. Kidding. And the fact that I just typed that makes me want to go throw up, shower and kill myself… in that order.
