Happy Sunday everyone, I’m Bangkok Seven and this is the Sunday Rap. Apologies for the lack of Rap last Sunday. We put ourselves in a situation where someone else had the power to nix our post. Lesson learned. As they say, it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Last week, our friend Jack did a photo spread for a new business venture that combines the goodness of comfort food with the comfort of hot Thai chicks, packaged together and ready for delivery to the front door of every hungry whoremonger in Bangkok.
So here’s how it works. You go to the website, you pick the girl you want, and you order a hot dog. The girl brings you the hot dog. Does it cost more than a regular hot dog? Yes, because you get the added benefit of said hot dog being hand delivered to your doorstep by a super-hot out of work gogo dancer who hasn’t been laid in months. She’ll hang out with your shaggy, unkempt ass while you enjoy your meal, providing a bit of eye candy as a kind of psychological dessert and then—be on her merry way. That is, as far as I know. What you may or may not arrange in addition to physical nourishment is none of my beezwax.
At any rate, I was fortunate enough to tag along with Jack Nites last week as he took official photos of the hot dog delivery girls. The product of this labor can be seen below. As a disconnected bystander, I had no responsibilities except to make conversation with the girls, drink cocktails, and smoke a cigar or two. To be honest, I was just happy to be out of the house, and back in the company of chicks who I used to spend 7 nights a week with in Patpong and, thanks to the pandemic, hadn’t laid eyes on in quite a spell. Some had put on weight, while others were too thin, illustrating the disparity between those who sat around and snacked for the last 4 months, and those who had no money to feed themselves. But everyone was in high spirits regardless of waistlines, and when they figured out how to work the karaoke machine, all our troubles were soon forgotten, and replaced with the cowbell and oompa-oompa-oompa of traditional east country Thai music and the kind of crazed, angular, all-elbows-and-knees dancing that makes Thais simultaneously comical and charming. I caught some of it on video and posted to my Twitter (@BangkokSeven), and there are some still shots in my weekly blog over at patpongnightlife.com but it can’t come close to capturing the moment. Thai gogo dancers are somehow able to embody sweet innocence and salacious debauchery at the same time in the same moment. I don’t know how to explain it, but if you’ve lived here long enough, you know what I mean.
All I know is, I never feel more at home than in the company of these charming sirens. I often compare them to an excerpt from Victor Hugo’s novel Le Miserables of the ingenue Cosette, when the author describes the moment in the life of a beautiful girl before she realizes she’s beautiful. With farang women, this wondrous window is bitterly short. In Thailand, the women seem to perpetually exist in this state. Maybe it’s why so many of us feel suspended in time while we’re here. The girls are forever unaware of their power, so the men are free to be constant Casanovas. Or maybe I’ve had too many beers. It’s irrelevant, either way. But it would explain how and why so many douchebags get lucky here…me included. But I digress.
The long and short of it is, if you’re tired of sitting alone on your couch, tired of snatching your food from the hands of a Foodpanda driver, and want the company and –dare I say—a soft touch of a Thai PYT (pretty young thing, props to Michael Jackson), then this whole “hot dog on a chick” thing might be just what the doctor ordered. I’ll leave it up to you. But at the very least, we’ve got this sweet photo album for you, courtesy of Jack. And if you want to see more, head over to my blog. I’ve got some behind-the-scenes stuff plus a rundown of all the restaurant food I pigged out on last week plus some random photos from unemployed gogo dancers on forced holiday. Check ’em out if you want. Peace out, everyone. Drink ‘em if you got ‘em.