Globe Hoppin'

This was not how I envisioned our first night to be like. This was one of Thailand’s best tourist spots; a roaring night market jostling with hawkers eagerly touting the same Chang shorts all around, and street food vendors with questionable hygiene standards compensated with their unquestionable skill with a wok.

Yet there I was trapped in a bar, encircled by six hulking transvestites zipped into bodycon dresses, with a sweaty fistful of 100 baht notes. I glance outside our bubble of space, and see inebriated vacationers raucously cheering on showgirls. A balding Caucasian is excitedly running his hands all over a local no older than 17. I clench the notes in my hand tighter.

An hour ago, everything was peachy. It was our first friends-only holiday. We were 18, and there were no parents. The currency was in our favour — 25 to 1 — and Bangkok was a city brimming with life.

During the day, we were to gorge ourselves on the incredible food that the Thais were famed for. Authentic green curries creamy with coconut, fragrant with basil and lime leaf, and potent with fresh chillies. Classic pork pad thai with an immaculate balance of sweet, sour, spicy and salty. Dishes promising an explosion of flavour.

At night, we were to flush our newly-legal throats with cheap alcohol, wander the meandering streets, shopping, before succumbing to the alluring coos of a-go-go bar strippers.

Now we were at the end of Day 1, discombobulated, staring down the smoking end of a scam.

Two thousand baht each for the show, the head honcho of the ladyboys screams, or we’ll call the mafia. Her patience is running out.

I fake compliance, fishing for money that we didn’t have. I recount the steps that led us to this mess: the glaring florescent lights of the market; the one-beer-per-bar rule we established; the smooth talking local who ushered us off the main street with promise of a great deal for a ping-pong show.

At this moment, the door swings open and a giggly couple stumbles in. I slam the crumpled notes on the counter, and we bolt. It’s all a blur as we speed down the stairs, enraged shouts and a stampede of footsteps trailing behind us.

We dart through a sea of haggling tourists, and hurl ourselves into the first tuk-tuk we see. Our driver takes off, weaving through the chaotic roads as we wheeze in dissipating panic. I glance at the rear view mirror and catch him chuckling to himself.

“Welcome to Thailand.”