My first trip to Thailand was in late-1988, when its gay scene was just starting to attract large numbers of foreign visitors. I arrived in Bangkok clutching on to my hefty Spartacus Guide for dear life and my head buzzing with a long list of cultural dos and don'ts. On that note, I recall getting a very surprised look from an elderly monk that I waied deferentially as we passed each other in the street. The scowl and low mutterings that I received from a female vendor at a roadside stall when trying to get a few baht knocked off the price of an already cheap snack taught me that perhaps you weren't meant to haggle ALL the time. Any time I was seated in public I would be terrified of what my feet were up to - were they accidentally delivering some mortal insult to a Thai by pointing at him?
As you can imagine from the above, I was about as relaxed as a drainpipe on my first visit to a gay bar. It was Apollo, a small bar at the end of Silom Soi 4, where Sphinx now is. I got there very early in the evening, about 7.30, when the few boys inside were just sitting about in their shorts and singlets. I believe there was usually naked dancing on stage later but I had left well before that. Almost immediately a canny boy had homed in on this obvious first-timer and introduced himself with solemn formality. 'My name is Ong,' he said. He had quite good English and was clearly bright - not particularly good-looking but such was my relief at having accomplished the amazing feat of getting into conversation with one of these exotic boys that I quickly succumbed when he asked to be taken off.
By 8 o'clock we were walking out of the bar and along the soi, where surprised friends of Ong made jocular comments and he responded with the proud look of one who has snared an early victim, I mean customer. Back at the hotel we watched TV, chatted some more, did the business. He stayed the night and woke me up as it was getting light by pressing his little rump against me in the bed. He had to do this several times while I lay there debating with myself whether I could afford to pay out a few hundred more baht on my tight budget. I finally decided it was permissible.
I didn't take him off again. My trip was only for ten days - too many other places and boys to check out. I spent three days in Pattaya, taking with me a boy who wore a permanent traumatised-refugee look during our stay. That was not a great success. Back in Bangkok for my last couple of days I was sitting in Soi 4 in the early evening, watching the world go by, when Ong approached and handed me a letter with a grave look on his face, then promptly turned and left in the direction of his bar.
There were two or three pages of it, written in surprisingly good English. Oh, what a sob-story it was! Ong was being beaten and sexually abused by the landlord of his rented room. He had to get out of there and find somewhere else to live or he might even be forced to kill himself. He needed money urgently. How did I react? Did I think, 'What an obvious scam, no doubt written by a paid specialist in such things'? Nope. I thought of our pleasant night together, my heart went all mushy and I decided to give him 2000 baht, which was most of what I had left. At his bar he received the money graciously, though with perhaps just a hint of disappointment that it wasn't more.
Back in London, sanity returned and I realised I had been duped. But it was hard to bear a grudge for long. I had told Ong how short my trip was and when I would be back from Pattaya. He was a smart cookie as I've said and knew he had to strike quickly. His psychological profiling of me was spot-on. I still admire his enterprise.
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Originally Posted by snotface
