To Udon Thani and Bangkok

[MC_Ldop 40]

Kevin (BM cookie and owner of Jasmine Mansion) has several new stories on his site Riff-Raffles. This time around he takes a break from his Pattaya hotel to head to Udon Thani and Bangkok. Here are some excerpts.

 

 

Fear and Loathing in Udon Thani

So yet again, a trip away from Pattaya sees another series of calamities having befallen me. The most serious problem on my plate was one of my own making — caused, albeit unwittingly, through my own veritable stupidity, but I will come to that later. I had departed Pattaya for a week in Udon Thani to undertake some editing and get a handle on how my book’s sequel is panning out. I would then be traveling back to Bangkok to meet Peter who was arriving for another one of his trips. We would then both return to Pattaya — I specifically to the bosom of Mrs. Boss. To go away on my own is always seen through less than rose-tinted glasses by my wife. Eventually, though, I am able to sufficiently convince her that I need the peace, quiet and my own space in which to concentrate on my writing over extended periods. Despite my explanations as to what I am doing — and how disciplined I need to be to achieve the objectives I have set myself — such trips as still regarded by her as a holiday. Rising at 07:00 and then staring at my manuscript and/or a computer screen for eight to nine hours is not a bloody holiday. It is not some fun experience that allows me endless hours drinking and partying by night — such extravagances would render me incapable of concentration the next day and rather defeat the object of the exercise. I actually find myself becoming increasingly agitated by the lack of understanding shown towards my writing efforts. Perhaps when the large royalty cheques come pouring into the Meacher bank account that will change…then again, perhaps not.

 

An incident free journey followed by a smooth check in at the Charoensri Grand Hotel, in the centre of Udon Thani, saw me settled by early Friday evening. I decided to go out for a meal and a beer or two…and almost achieved that goal. The fact that the meal was replaced by an extension of my intended stay in the chosen bar meant I had consumed far more alcohol than had been the plan and would render Saturday a nonstarter. Never mind — I still had almost a full week in which to play catch up. I was moving rooms within the hotel on the Sunday so had mentally written that off as a work day and spent another night having a few too many drinks and feeling sore headed the following day. Mindful of the ridiculous scenario that had unfolded on my last visit to this hotel, where a change of rooms was necessary, I ventured to the reception counter with some little hesitancy and a case load of trepidation. I was most certainly not in the mood to play out another situation which saw me having to literally check out of the hotel, walk through the main doors and then immediately back into the hotel and reregister, all for a simple change of rooms.

Full story

 

 

 

Security Guards, Fighting Flashbacks, and Bacardi

In my last story, I was trapped in stasis in an Udon Thani hotel wondering what the hotel staff was going to do after a ridiculous misunderstanding. What the hotel did was send two hotel security men up to my room and ask me to leave the hotel. They waited by the door whilst sending in one of the accompanying bellboys to help me with my luggage. There was no point in me arguing with these gentlemen, so I beckoned them in and offered them a seat on the bed, which they declined and stood, cross armed in the pose that appears to be adopted by security men the world over. I have never worked that one out — it is, I imagine, supposed to be threatening but simply looks like a man with his arms crossed to me. I am not much in the way of a fighter, I never have been, but I am not easily intimidated which means I tend to get myself into situations that I really should not be getting into. I have been the same way from my schooldays onwards. I would constantly be involved in a fight of one description or another, always because I was determined to stand my ground regardless of whom it was that believed it was their ground I had the temerity to stand upon.

 

When I look back on those years, I realize how amazingly I managed time and time again to walk away unscathed. Sure I took a few beatings, but never suffered any broken bones, cuts or even too many bruises. My stubbornness extends into the remarkably stupid area of being durable. Even though I may have been knocked to the floor on several occasions, I would get myself back up as quickly as possible in order to receive even further punishment. However, I would still be waiting my chance, I would still believe that my opponent would tire and offer me an opportunity to land at least one telling blow. When it comes to the “rope a dope” tactic successfully employed by Muhammad Ali in his “Rumble in the Jungle” fight with George Foreman, I could only watch and think the great Mr. Ali had learnt a thing or two from me!

 

I can also recall having the occasional success with this tactic, most notably in a classroom brawl with “Smelly Abbott.” Whilst normally there would be a requirement for me to give an explanation of how a person secured their nickname, I believe in this instance such is not necessary. Smelly (I have never known his first name, unless it was Smelly, which I somehow doubt) had pummeled away at me as I remained pinned against the classroom wall. He took a short, and no doubt well deserved breather and I took my chance, landing a perfect (fortunate, very fortunate) blow to his chin which sent him sprawling backwards and saw him cracking his head on the corner of a desk as he fell. The wound required five stitches in the local hospital and Smelly returned to school a couple of hours later. He was immediately surrounded by his friends and encouraged to extract retribution for his injuries. Much to Smelly’s credit, and my eternal relief, he contented himself with coming over to me and extending his hand. I still wonder what his real name is and contemplate what he is doing now — I like to imagine him as the Managing Director of a perfume company.

Full story

 

 

 

Delayed by Mojo and More Thai Ineptitude

After a relatively good day on Wednesday in Udon Thani, I decided to treat myself to a beer or two in the local hostelries that evening. I started, and also finished, in a bar called Mojo’s. I had been there on numerous occasions in the last couple of years and was most often the only customer in a very large bar. That suited me fine as I could sit quietly, enjoy a drink and just let random thoughts flow through my brain.

 

This time, however, Mojo’s was packed. There must have been over 100 patrons in the bar and the place was alive with conversation rather than deafening music. I found one of the few remaining seats and ordered a beer. The waitress immediately told me that on Wednesday’s they do a free buffet, showed me where it was and suggested I get myself some food. I had not eaten so I looked at the wide choice of Thai and Western foods, helped myself to a few servings and returned to my seat. When the waitress returned with my beer she asked my name, although I was not interested in getting into a conversation with her I had to be polite as I was being looked after so well. “Kevin you play pool, I put your name on board for you.” This was not a question but a statement as she hurried off and wrote K-e-w-i-n on a blackboard by one of the three pool tables. I was about tenth on the list and was forced to drink another couple of bottles of Heineken before my name had risen to the top. I was, however, unconcerned as I had been watching the games and realized every single player was considerably better than me. I would simply play my one game and go back to the hotel for an early night…but it never works that way, does it?

 

I’ve written several times about my competitive nature, so you probably have a good idea of where this is going. Although as I approached the pool table I knew I was going to get soundly beaten I was still not going to go down without a fight — and before you start, no, I would not be picking up one of the bar stools and crashing it over my opponent’s cranium moments after losing! As it transpired and against all the odds I won the first game. I took on and beat the next player and then the one after that. After almost two hours at the table I was eventually beaten, I had played the best pool I have ever played and, as a result, drank considerably more bottles of Heineken than intended. When I returned to my seat someone came over to me and asked, “Is this you?” They were holding a recent issue of the Udon Thani Guide, which had an article about Riff-Raffles in it accompanied by a picture of Mrs. Boss and me. My admission to being me led to several people seating themselves around me, chatting about the book and buying me more beers than I could possibly consume. I left the bar at closing time and I was very drunk. Although I had enjoyed a wonderful evening, it was not remotely part of any plan I had conceived for this night.

Full story

 

 

Busted in Bangkok

I arrived at Don Muang airport in Bangkok at 4:00 on Friday afternoon and got a taxi from the rank outside. I boarded my taxi and asked the driver to take me to The Landmark Hotel. He scratched his head, but I believed I had explained the location sufficiently well and assumed he had understood where we were going. I sat back, closed my eyes and relaxed for the 20-minute drive into the centre of Bangkok. I looked forward to arriving at my favourite hotel, with the thought made even better by knowing that one of the two nights was complimentary. I was looking forward to seeing Peter later in the evening and my failings of the last seven days were pushed to the back of my mind. I was awoken by my driver “We here mister.” I looked at the street scene outside the taxi and recognized nothing, this was not Sukhumvit Road and we were most certainly not at The Landmark. “Where are we?” I enquired with a mixture of shock and disbelief and no little head shaking.

 

“Landmark mister, you say you want go Landmark.”

 

“Yes I want to go to The Landmark but this is not it.”

 

“Yes this Landmark.”

 

“A landmark of some description it may well be, but I can assure you this is most certainly not the bloody Landmark.”

 

“Yes is mister.”

 

“No isn’t. I have stayed at The Landmark on more than twenty occasions and this most certainly is not it.”

 

“Yes is mister, look.”

 

I followed the direction of his pointed finger where I could clearly see a shop premises, above the shop was also very clearly written “Landmark Tailors.”

Full story