Me love you Wong time

Bangkok, 6/10/11

Jason's home is bigger than the Jim Thompson House/Museum, yet is starkly different in its lack of centuries old priceless art. The airy two bedroom, two bathroom house has a large open living room, two porches, and a tree-covered back yard. The price for this proper home is roughly a third of what I pay in New York. The fact that the price point includes and live-in maid and gardener just adds salt to my already gaping wound.

Jason and Chris are both American ex-pats and I'm meeting them for the first time, as Chris is a friend of a friend. The drink of choice I learn tonight is always Thai whiskey and soda water. Thai whiskey the cheapest alcohol on the market, significantly less than beer, and could be described a heady combination of paint thinner and snake venom. We drink until 1am and then head to Wong's Place, a gay-leaning dive bar which time, Thai closing time laws, and smoking bans seemed to forget. The bar is so unbelievably smokey, the next morning my eyes are practically bleeding. Between yellowed photos of random patrons, album covers, and endless amounts of tacky colorful kitsch (including a "Happy New Year" sign even though its June), Wong's interior design brings to mind a person trying his hand at arts and crafts after consuming an excessive amount of Thai whiskey. In addition to the New Year's sign, someone forgot to tell the DJ that it's June as Christmas music is on loop, broken only occasionally by the Spice Girls. The crowd is a mix of obvious ladyboys, who really seem to like me in addition to other male patrons who stare at me like hyenas in heat, and Thai locals playing Connect 4. There's one sad Austrian backpacker who is celebrating her birthday with a heavy shot of naivety as her birthday crush obviously has no interest in women and is flirting with all the men at the bar. I should buy her a copy of "He's Not That Into You". Or maybe just a pair of glasses.

We drink more whiskey sodas and Tiger Beers until the sun comes up at 7am. Wong's remains relatively dark in the middle of the day, so like a casino where time never passes, most customers continue drinking their whiskey, singing "Do They Know It's Christmas", not even knowing another day has sprung. But I'm hungry, so we head to a nearby hotel for fried eggs, toast, and bacon, sitting alongside a dozen police officers just finishing their night shift.