Anticipation

My taxi arrived, and I moved on from the birdsongs of the palm plantations and unpaved roads into the city proper. The second of two hotels booked sight-unseen was next, this time in Nana. I had again booked this place for far too long as well, but for completely different reasons.

An hour later, we arrived. The driver of the yellow and green car charged me 500 baht for the privilege. “Welcome to Thailand” he said as I stepped out, a phrase I would soon learn to dread.

The room was clean and modern, but the area it sat in was decidedly not. After putting my bags down, I drew the blinds. An enormous pink neon tube sign glowed across from my hotel. Lolitas. I had done some research into the area before choosing this room but it hadn’t come up.

I got out of the shower and laid there looking out the window. The bright neon glow illuminated the puddles lining the cramped alleyway. A few young women sat under a small awning in chairs facing each other talking while they avoided the rain. From a distance I snapped a quick photo of the sign and sent it along to a friend to share a giggle with, and headed to bed for the day.

I stepped into the unusually chatty elevator and headed downstairs the following morning. The bars across the street served suspiciously similar looking breakfast menus as early as 10AM. Instead I opted for some spring rolls from the sweet old lady pushing her cart along the road.

I decided to do some daytime exploring to get a read on the red-light district before business opened for the day. I walked aimlessly along Sukhumvit for hours. The rain made way for an intense tropical sun that made me sweat so profusely it dripped from my glasses and onto the dirty ground below.

Every type would try pitching me their goods and services. Some more mysterious than others. Two Indian men in their mid-thirties negged me, insisting that my hair was thinning. Almost immediately they tried getting me to follow them to an unknown second location. Declining, I changed directions quickly. Some of the pitches weren’t quite as opaque, though.

As I walked slowly down the street a group of women working at one of the many massage shops piped up. “Hello! Hansum man!” they smiled and waved as I made eye-contact. I took their compliments seriously, nodding back without breaking my stride. My earnest acceptance highlighted my naiveté; they laughed amongst themselves. Small folding tables hastily set up on the sidewalk openly sold electronic cigarettes, counterfeit Viagra, and illicit sex toys.

By mid-afternoon I circled back to the bar across from my hotel. I sat facing the sign that would taunt me for days and ordered overpriced food and a Leo. As I settled in I watched the seven or so women in their mid-thirties take turns between bickering amongst themselves and enticing foreigners to follow them inside. Some did.

I sat there slowly getting drunk in an effort to work up the confidence to be like them, but it wouldn’t come to me on day two.