Bad Romance

Bangkok, 6/11/11

My plan was to leave immediately the following evening for Koh Tao, but Chris was right when he said the all-night-Thai-whiskey-Christmas-music-smoke-in-your-eyes extravaganza would make this difficult. Instead, upon waking, I head immediately back to Jason's house, where 40 of his friends are enjoying a BBQ of grilled chicken, fresh lychees, and chili cake. Plus more whiskey, this time the rubbing alcohol has been replaced with a dear visit from Mr. Johnny Walker.

Chris has been eagerly anticipating this night for some time now as his friend is DJing as special Lady Gaga club night in the fashionable Radio City Avenue (RCA) district. Half the house party gets completely changed for the occasion and we enter cabs looking like the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade. Although it's 11pm, it's practically light out on RCA due to all the neon, strobes, and spot lights. The street is bursting with energy as thousands of young Thais are dressed to the nines for a Saturday on the town. It doesn't help that the middle of the avenue has been converted into a massive inflatable concert hall where everyone's favorite MC, Flo Rida is holding court for the night. Flo's name is quite apropos for a Western tourist's backpacking vacation through Thailand considering all the spicy cuisine.

Gaga Night at Club Lead (which sounds like somewhere Stefon would go) has to be one of the most ridiculous experiences of the trip so far. Mama Monster, turned up to eleven, while thousands of little monsters prance around. The night includes a Gaga fashion show and a dance and singing contest, which most contestants (or contestant groups) have been clearly choreographing for months. The costumes are beyond elaborate, with one particular gentleman wearing full white face paint, zombie eyes, a complete wedding dress covered in blood, and 10'' stilettos. He majestically hovers over the dance floor like a half-dead ballerina on Quaaludes. Others wear dresses made out of kermit plushes, attach bloodied baby dolls to their asses, tin foil dresses, excessive amounts of glitter, skulls, cigarette sunglasses, S&M accessories, and elaborate self-made corsets. Jason looks like Malcolm McDowell in "A Clockwork Orange". Chris looks like a general in Elton John's army. One of their friends look like a sexed up version of Conan the Barbarian. Another wears an odd neon blue painted mustache and a hat with a working miniature train. Showing up at the party late, not knowing about the costume, I look like my normal self. And given what I'm wearing that's a pre-pubescent American Eagle shopper.

The evening clearly ends at Wong's for a second night in a row.

Keep it cool, what's the name of this club? I can't remember but it's alright, a-right

Baby, there's no other superstar you know that I'll be

I want your ugly I want your disease I want your everything as long as it's free

Paws up

 

Gives a new meaning to "Baby doll Dress"

You left me speechless