dave_tf-old
December 7th, 2007, 17:41
I've struggled with whether and when to post this story. No piece of writing, whether hastily or thoughtfully composed, can fully express the intent behind it...certainly not when the 'author' is sub-Dickens or Twain or Faulkner, but I've wanted to for a long time...so here it is. It's non-fiction the best I remember it.
The Ring
In my Journalism 101 class, we were taught that the first sentence or two of a news story should try to answer the following questions: Who, what, when, where and why. With that in mind, I'll start this tale.
A boy (who I will call A) gave me a school ring on the steps of my favorite Bangkok bar on the night before the next day's early morning departure from Thailand.
That covers the "Who, what, when, and where". The 'why' is going to be more difficult.
My first trips to Thailand were fairly sedate, even spiritual. I'd heard of the bars, but I was reluctant to visit one. Part of the reason was my own shyness, and part of it was because I imagined them to be quite different than I eventually found them. I envisioned dark and dreary concrete bunkers where sobbing boys were chained to the walls quivering in fear whenever a new customer entered.
One early evening in Chiang Mai, however, with my curiosity and libido inflamed and my shyness and reticence dulled by alcohol and a very successful experiment with some Northern Herb, I ventured into a happy little establishment where boys danced without embarrassment and smiled when I entered. I consummated that visit with a trip upstairs with a smiling, willing partner.
I dabbled in the bars for the remainder of that trip and a couple of subsequent ones, not making them the focus of the journey, but certainly looking forward to visiting them. I found one in particular and, being a bit of a creature of habit, began to be a habitu├й. It was then that I began to talk with the managers, the boys, and the mamasans and came to consider them friends...people I would often see on subsequent trips to catch up on news, renew acquaintances and see if anybody had learned any new tricks.
With each new arrival, my Thailand trips become more centered on the bar and the boys. They became a blur of late mornings, touristy day-trips or afternoon recovery sessions, giddy evening walks to my favorite Bangkok boy-emporium, alcoholic lubrication, decadent socialization, half-drunken taxi rides to loud and expensive adult entertainment spots, and ending up in, at the least, honest attempts at sexual gratification...all of which were done in the company of one or more black-haired young men. I wasn't a very discriminating customer. If he was cute, I wanted him. And if more than one was cute, I wanted them all. Being a regular carries certain rewards.
Eventually I grew tired of it. I realized what I really enjoyed was the company. Even the sex became secondary, while the late night carousing I tried to put behind me or at least limit. But being a regular also carries some risk. I'd been labeled as a party-guy, a regular good-time Charlie, and the boys who approached me approached with legendary tales of past indulgences ringing in their excited ears from other boys, from management and mamasans. In short, I was a bit trapped...or felt that way. You know what they say...if you meet your date in a bar, don't be surprised later if he drinks too much. I was the date some of these guys were looking for, and they tended to crowd out the quieter (and nicer) boys.
The trip where I received the ring started out with good intentions, but for the reasons I've explained, and because of my reluctance to disappoint, rather too quickly devolved into my old tired pattern. After four or five days, I'd had enough. I checked out of my hotel near the action and moved to a nicer place a 150 baht taxi ride away, leaving no forwarding address, and skipped the bar for a couple of nights. When I went back, the ring-leader among the party boys wasn't at the bar. As politely as I could, I begged off having any other of that retinue sit with me, and instead motioned over to A.
He was no stranger. I'd had a very pleasant late lunch with him already this trip when I'd encountered him wandering Surawong one afternoon. He'd also been a non-sexual companion a time or two when 'the gang' went out for a carousing time on my previous trip, where my impression of him was that he wasn't much for the crowds, noise, and free flowing Johnny Walker Red. I tried to joke with him to get him into the spirit of things, but I could sense his discomfort, and I admired him for it.
My best friend W, who could always read me like a book, was frequently, gently pressing me to take him off on several occasions. The thought appealed to me greatly, but he was one of those crowded out by the party-brigade.
So he came to me willingly, but a bit reluctantly.
"Where you go tonight?" he asked.
"I was thinking maybe only a quiet night tonight. Maybe we go eat and go to Hotel."
If I had suggested this to any of my other gang (and I had, come to think of it) there would have been yards of pouts, but A smiled and moved closer.
"Who you take out tonight?"
"I think I take only you."
That sealed the deal.
As he was getting dressed, the party-honcho arrived, saw me, and was ready to swing. He was quite insistent and flirtatious, but I steeled against it and W came to my rescue explaining my decision.
We left, had our dinner safely outside of the neighborhood, and went to the Hotel. As best I can remember, my room was on the 16th or 17th floor and I spent an awkward moment waiting at the elevator for him to check his ID, something that never happened in the revolving door of The Rose in those days, and still may not for all I know.
He jumped a bit startled when the elevator began it's uneven climb and we had a laugh.
I took him in and showed him around. He showered, and came out with that familiar towel costume they all wear so well to join me at the window. We looked out over the night lights of Bangkok, high above it all. He pointed out a few landmarks he could make out and I slipped behind him to look over the top of his head. I put my hands on his shoulders and he reached up for them and pulled my arms around him.
I held him close and kissed his ear, rocking slightly to the music from the in-room stereo. He giggled.
"Jahka jee?"
"Jahka jee."
I'll spare you the too-juicy bits. I'm not a porn-star and don't possess the kind of skills or endowment that make them famous in some circles. A wasn't either. He was just a very sweet guy and we did all the right things. In the heat of the moment, I told him what I wanted to do and he said OK.
After the jetlag and the late nights, it was too early to sleep when we were finished and showered, so we laid in the bed and talked. I still don't know how it was possible to converse across the barrier for two hours, but I know we did it. I turned the TV on low and we cuddled and watched for a bit before he fell asleep. I sat there a while longer just relishing the unhurried comfort of it all before wrapping up in him and joining him in slumber.
I don't remember what we did the next day...nothing particularly noteworthy. I know we woke up ready to play some more, and even after that enjoyed the first Bangkok morning I'd seen in quite a while. This was Thailand to me. I'd known it all along, but had allowed myself to be swept away by false notions of excitement and by a string of boys who'd wanted to take me there....because that was their primary destination as well.
We stayed together most of the day doing little things before I had to let him go. I had an appointment that evening (a late return from a day trip I'd planned) and told him I'd see him the next night.
The next night I went back to 'my' bar only to find A not there. I didn't want to think he'd been taken off, so of course nobody told me whether or not he had been. I sipped cokes and waited, probably two hours. Eventually I gave up and gave in to the pestering, and without much enthusiasm at all got three of them to dress and ready to leave, all the while watching the door. The tables turned completely. As I was drug outside, A arrived. He saw the guys hanging on my elbows and I tried to make a compromise. If he came with us, we'd go someplace 'not so far and not so loud'. But he shook his head and stepped inside.
A real man would have shaken off the hangers on and gone after what he wanted, but that wasn't me that night. As perverse as it sounds (and definitely IS) I wasn't used to such a flat refusal when it came to 'going out', and it stung a little.
The night was NOT fun. We didn't go 'not so far and not so loud', we went far and loud. I ended the evening by paying for the party and leaving by myself. I think I finally got put-off enough to say 'no more' and I spent the next couple of nights waiting for A and talking with W. I wasn't high, I wasn't horny, I was waiting for one boy, but I always enjoyed W's company.
My last night was before a very early flight out next morning. I really only stopped by the bar for a drink and to say my goodbyes, not expecting to see A. He came in just as I was paying the binh and sat with me for a minute. I asked him if he would go out with me and he said he could not. Full of self doubt, I said OK and walked out with our mutual friend W. I had just turned to say to W that I didn't understand anything when the door opened. A came outside, about halfway in and out and motioned me up. He held out his hand and I reached for it. He put an object in my hand and waved goodbye. When W and I got to the next lighted area, I looked at it and showed it to him.
It has an insignia in Thai on the sides with a few small red stones and an image of The Buddha on it. W explained it was from a school.
Now I've almost come to the end of the tale, and I still can't answer "why?".
But the biggest unanswered question came on my next trip. I went to the bar my first night, hoping to be reunited with W and half-hoping that A had left the scene. The ring, resized, was on my finger. W was sick from what I soon learned was heroin addiction. A had been in a card game (playing or watching...don't know) that had been raided by the police. He ran, and they shot him in the back, killing him.
I'll never know why I have this ring. But seeing it, holding it, and wearing it reminds me of one human being I never need to forget.
The Ring
In my Journalism 101 class, we were taught that the first sentence or two of a news story should try to answer the following questions: Who, what, when, where and why. With that in mind, I'll start this tale.
A boy (who I will call A) gave me a school ring on the steps of my favorite Bangkok bar on the night before the next day's early morning departure from Thailand.
That covers the "Who, what, when, and where". The 'why' is going to be more difficult.
My first trips to Thailand were fairly sedate, even spiritual. I'd heard of the bars, but I was reluctant to visit one. Part of the reason was my own shyness, and part of it was because I imagined them to be quite different than I eventually found them. I envisioned dark and dreary concrete bunkers where sobbing boys were chained to the walls quivering in fear whenever a new customer entered.
One early evening in Chiang Mai, however, with my curiosity and libido inflamed and my shyness and reticence dulled by alcohol and a very successful experiment with some Northern Herb, I ventured into a happy little establishment where boys danced without embarrassment and smiled when I entered. I consummated that visit with a trip upstairs with a smiling, willing partner.
I dabbled in the bars for the remainder of that trip and a couple of subsequent ones, not making them the focus of the journey, but certainly looking forward to visiting them. I found one in particular and, being a bit of a creature of habit, began to be a habitu├й. It was then that I began to talk with the managers, the boys, and the mamasans and came to consider them friends...people I would often see on subsequent trips to catch up on news, renew acquaintances and see if anybody had learned any new tricks.
With each new arrival, my Thailand trips become more centered on the bar and the boys. They became a blur of late mornings, touristy day-trips or afternoon recovery sessions, giddy evening walks to my favorite Bangkok boy-emporium, alcoholic lubrication, decadent socialization, half-drunken taxi rides to loud and expensive adult entertainment spots, and ending up in, at the least, honest attempts at sexual gratification...all of which were done in the company of one or more black-haired young men. I wasn't a very discriminating customer. If he was cute, I wanted him. And if more than one was cute, I wanted them all. Being a regular carries certain rewards.
Eventually I grew tired of it. I realized what I really enjoyed was the company. Even the sex became secondary, while the late night carousing I tried to put behind me or at least limit. But being a regular also carries some risk. I'd been labeled as a party-guy, a regular good-time Charlie, and the boys who approached me approached with legendary tales of past indulgences ringing in their excited ears from other boys, from management and mamasans. In short, I was a bit trapped...or felt that way. You know what they say...if you meet your date in a bar, don't be surprised later if he drinks too much. I was the date some of these guys were looking for, and they tended to crowd out the quieter (and nicer) boys.
The trip where I received the ring started out with good intentions, but for the reasons I've explained, and because of my reluctance to disappoint, rather too quickly devolved into my old tired pattern. After four or five days, I'd had enough. I checked out of my hotel near the action and moved to a nicer place a 150 baht taxi ride away, leaving no forwarding address, and skipped the bar for a couple of nights. When I went back, the ring-leader among the party boys wasn't at the bar. As politely as I could, I begged off having any other of that retinue sit with me, and instead motioned over to A.
He was no stranger. I'd had a very pleasant late lunch with him already this trip when I'd encountered him wandering Surawong one afternoon. He'd also been a non-sexual companion a time or two when 'the gang' went out for a carousing time on my previous trip, where my impression of him was that he wasn't much for the crowds, noise, and free flowing Johnny Walker Red. I tried to joke with him to get him into the spirit of things, but I could sense his discomfort, and I admired him for it.
My best friend W, who could always read me like a book, was frequently, gently pressing me to take him off on several occasions. The thought appealed to me greatly, but he was one of those crowded out by the party-brigade.
So he came to me willingly, but a bit reluctantly.
"Where you go tonight?" he asked.
"I was thinking maybe only a quiet night tonight. Maybe we go eat and go to Hotel."
If I had suggested this to any of my other gang (and I had, come to think of it) there would have been yards of pouts, but A smiled and moved closer.
"Who you take out tonight?"
"I think I take only you."
That sealed the deal.
As he was getting dressed, the party-honcho arrived, saw me, and was ready to swing. He was quite insistent and flirtatious, but I steeled against it and W came to my rescue explaining my decision.
We left, had our dinner safely outside of the neighborhood, and went to the Hotel. As best I can remember, my room was on the 16th or 17th floor and I spent an awkward moment waiting at the elevator for him to check his ID, something that never happened in the revolving door of The Rose in those days, and still may not for all I know.
He jumped a bit startled when the elevator began it's uneven climb and we had a laugh.
I took him in and showed him around. He showered, and came out with that familiar towel costume they all wear so well to join me at the window. We looked out over the night lights of Bangkok, high above it all. He pointed out a few landmarks he could make out and I slipped behind him to look over the top of his head. I put my hands on his shoulders and he reached up for them and pulled my arms around him.
I held him close and kissed his ear, rocking slightly to the music from the in-room stereo. He giggled.
"Jahka jee?"
"Jahka jee."
I'll spare you the too-juicy bits. I'm not a porn-star and don't possess the kind of skills or endowment that make them famous in some circles. A wasn't either. He was just a very sweet guy and we did all the right things. In the heat of the moment, I told him what I wanted to do and he said OK.
After the jetlag and the late nights, it was too early to sleep when we were finished and showered, so we laid in the bed and talked. I still don't know how it was possible to converse across the barrier for two hours, but I know we did it. I turned the TV on low and we cuddled and watched for a bit before he fell asleep. I sat there a while longer just relishing the unhurried comfort of it all before wrapping up in him and joining him in slumber.
I don't remember what we did the next day...nothing particularly noteworthy. I know we woke up ready to play some more, and even after that enjoyed the first Bangkok morning I'd seen in quite a while. This was Thailand to me. I'd known it all along, but had allowed myself to be swept away by false notions of excitement and by a string of boys who'd wanted to take me there....because that was their primary destination as well.
We stayed together most of the day doing little things before I had to let him go. I had an appointment that evening (a late return from a day trip I'd planned) and told him I'd see him the next night.
The next night I went back to 'my' bar only to find A not there. I didn't want to think he'd been taken off, so of course nobody told me whether or not he had been. I sipped cokes and waited, probably two hours. Eventually I gave up and gave in to the pestering, and without much enthusiasm at all got three of them to dress and ready to leave, all the while watching the door. The tables turned completely. As I was drug outside, A arrived. He saw the guys hanging on my elbows and I tried to make a compromise. If he came with us, we'd go someplace 'not so far and not so loud'. But he shook his head and stepped inside.
A real man would have shaken off the hangers on and gone after what he wanted, but that wasn't me that night. As perverse as it sounds (and definitely IS) I wasn't used to such a flat refusal when it came to 'going out', and it stung a little.
The night was NOT fun. We didn't go 'not so far and not so loud', we went far and loud. I ended the evening by paying for the party and leaving by myself. I think I finally got put-off enough to say 'no more' and I spent the next couple of nights waiting for A and talking with W. I wasn't high, I wasn't horny, I was waiting for one boy, but I always enjoyed W's company.
My last night was before a very early flight out next morning. I really only stopped by the bar for a drink and to say my goodbyes, not expecting to see A. He came in just as I was paying the binh and sat with me for a minute. I asked him if he would go out with me and he said he could not. Full of self doubt, I said OK and walked out with our mutual friend W. I had just turned to say to W that I didn't understand anything when the door opened. A came outside, about halfway in and out and motioned me up. He held out his hand and I reached for it. He put an object in my hand and waved goodbye. When W and I got to the next lighted area, I looked at it and showed it to him.
It has an insignia in Thai on the sides with a few small red stones and an image of The Buddha on it. W explained it was from a school.
Now I've almost come to the end of the tale, and I still can't answer "why?".
But the biggest unanswered question came on my next trip. I went to the bar my first night, hoping to be reunited with W and half-hoping that A had left the scene. The ring, resized, was on my finger. W was sick from what I soon learned was heroin addiction. A had been in a card game (playing or watching...don't know) that had been raided by the police. He ran, and they shot him in the back, killing him.
I'll never know why I have this ring. But seeing it, holding it, and wearing it reminds me of one human being I never need to forget.