Post Op Ramblings
Kevin is also in town having bones tended too. He's a guitar strumming friend of mine who lives in virtual retirement in Siem Reap, Cambodia. My bones jaw bones are a curse of aging and genetics. All that flossing would not have kept me from this inevitable date with an oral surgeon. It's an aging thing.
The bones Kevin needs mending shattered after he'd done what he usually does whenever he came to a speed bump which lay in his path. He revved the engine and hit the bump, pushing hard on the front shocks expecting the equal and opposite reaction of clean bounce into flight to clear the obstruction. The process did not go well. The bike bucked and sent him soaring. When he finally fell to earth, his collar bones absorbed the shock, shattering them into tiny, splintered fragments.
So here we are in Bangkok by coincidence, a gathering of old men, each with our own surgery tales to tell.
No boom boom. No yummy yum. No short time. No long time. Just the two of us cooped up in our boutique hotels very near the clinics occasionally phoning one another to swap codeine for anti-biotics.
The night before our respective consultations, we did hook up at the Nana Plaza, an area infamously put on the map because that's where the freelance street walkers ply their trade. As we were sharing a pitcher of beer, maybe a dozen or more girls from the north country, the farming area where most of the hookers call home, came by to hang on our shoulders and quote their prices and a variety of skills, "Me give Yum yum, no condom, only condom for boom boom" No girls. Sorry girls. Not tonight girls. Wedding ring girls. Some girly-boys, the Thai transies must have picked up on this--us chasing away the real things, and so they came up hoping that they were what we were actually in search of. Breasts with Adam's apples and a willy between their long, shaved legs. Eeew.
Jebus! Can't a feller just come to Thailand to have his aging bones mended and not his aching bone sated?
Day three in bed with chipmunk jaws. I miss my wife.
The bones Kevin needs mending shattered after he'd done what he usually does whenever he came to a speed bump which lay in his path. He revved the engine and hit the bump, pushing hard on the front shocks expecting the equal and opposite reaction of clean bounce into flight to clear the obstruction. The process did not go well. The bike bucked and sent him soaring. When he finally fell to earth, his collar bones absorbed the shock, shattering them into tiny, splintered fragments.
So here we are in Bangkok by coincidence, a gathering of old men, each with our own surgery tales to tell.
No boom boom. No yummy yum. No short time. No long time. Just the two of us cooped up in our boutique hotels very near the clinics occasionally phoning one another to swap codeine for anti-biotics.
The night before our respective consultations, we did hook up at the Nana Plaza, an area infamously put on the map because that's where the freelance street walkers ply their trade. As we were sharing a pitcher of beer, maybe a dozen or more girls from the north country, the farming area where most of the hookers call home, came by to hang on our shoulders and quote their prices and a variety of skills, "Me give Yum yum, no condom, only condom for boom boom" No girls. Sorry girls. Not tonight girls. Wedding ring girls. Some girly-boys, the Thai transies must have picked up on this--us chasing away the real things, and so they came up hoping that they were what we were actually in search of. Breasts with Adam's apples and a willy between their long, shaved legs. Eeew.
Jebus! Can't a feller just come to Thailand to have his aging bones mended and not his aching bone sated?
Day three in bed with chipmunk jaws. I miss my wife.
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10 Comments:
Can't a feller just come to Thailand to have his aging bones mended and not his aching bone sated?
Yes, but then we wouldn't get any good lines like this and no stories and nothing. Nothing at all. What's the point of you going if there's not a li'l tail-tell, even if it's fending off advances. tuk-tuk-tuk. You're too tuk-ered to know it's entertaining.
I don't seem to be able to persuade my friend, in town for nothing to do with bones (ooh, poor Kevin!!), to drop by the Oriental. It's the one place I've not been able to muster what it takes to swipe an ashtray. I don't keep the ashtrays (well, at least they haven't made the cut when I've moved), but I DO like them. Just saying. Get enough of those post-op meds in you and maybe you and Kevin might be up for a little ashtray adventure from which I might benefit.
I too would like an ashtray. Wait, that was not the point of this nearly naughty tale was it?
I'm glad you miss your wife.
I mean, not glad as in I relish your lonliness. Just glad to know you weren't sufficiently overwhelmed by offers of yum yum.
Which, by the way, I will heretofore be calling various naughty bits.
The both the girls and the katoeys who work inside Nana Plaza are employed by their bar.
They will get into deep trouble if they are seen out in the street freelancing. Because the clubs are not getting their cut of the barfine.
So its not right to call the girls inside Nana Plaza freelancers, because they are not.
Freelancers are the ones outside Nana, on the street, in the Nana Hotel parking lot, etc, working on their own.
Booda: If the Oriental is not too far off the sky train line, you got yourself an ashtray.
Hat: Yeah, yum yum does have a nicer ring to it than blow job. Sort of as innocuous as dim sum.
Art: Those girls and the katoeys (girly-boys) did seem to be walking the streets. Actually we were on Soi Nana, not in the Nana Plaza per se. When I told the taxi I was going to Nana, he grinned and said, "Ah girl shopping" I guess that's the lingo for scoping out streetwalkers.
My Patpong days and Soi Cowboy days are behind me--unless I find myself between marriages for the third time. You wouldn't happen to know if the Oriental is near Sum 21 would you? I gots me an ashtray to knick
I'm SO excited about knicking goin' on!! How is it I barely batted an eye swiping one from the Paris Ritz, but get me around a bunch o' Buddhas and oh-so-silky lethargy and - Oh. That must be it. The lethargy.
I love girly-boys. Did you ever (not likely, unless you lived in England, but one never knows) see The Allen Partridge Show? The Office owes it the HUGEST debt. Steve Coogan? Well, if you did see it, you're chuckling along with me and if you didn't, I can't explain. But it was funny.
I hope you're healing/heeling well. And now I feel like a rat and have to agree with Hat. It was very nice to know how much you miss The Rose. Me, too. Not her. People I love and make a life with. I miss them when I'm gone.
Booda, I will keep an eye out for Allen Partridge. Maybe the street vendors sell the DVDs. If I can't find my way to the Orient, I wil see if the Bangkok Boutique has a nice ashtray.
Could you pick me up one of them wooden chinese puzzles that make a cow when you put them together?
Or a ball.Whichever.
Sling, let's not get greedy here. Me first. Look, maybe the ashtray will shatter enroute to the U s of a and we can paint it a nice wood color and sort of sculpt it into a cow. Or a ball.
Are you home? Has all the medication worn off? Did you get a tan? Did you have some fun? I'm very sorry about the tooth thing because Thai food is heaven, isn't it?
Food? Oh yeah. That other stuff you swallow that doesn't come in capsules. Been awhile.
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