I am nomad. Hear me roar.


Saturday, 21 April 2012

No Ping Pong?

We had promised ourselves before we left the hotel that we were going to have the night that experiences everything that Patong has to offer, and I mean everything. So when we turned down Bangla Road and were accosted with menus for shows thrust in our faces and cries out from all directions. "Ping Pong! You want show? Come, come, you want ping pong?". We didn't resist.

We were lead through an almost empty bar, occupied by only a few people playing pool and lit only by neon and black-lights. Down a few short stairs, where the black glass doors opened in front of us. As you'd expect it was almost completely dark, illuminated only by the stage, and even then the beams of the spots didn't travel far. As we entered, I could hear a whistle being blown in short sharp bursts, I glanced around at the expressions of the viewers, they all looked as though they didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted, this clearly indicated we were in the right place. 

The four of us perched ourselves on stools around a bar table, ordered a round, and turned towards the stage. It wasn't until this moment that I truly appreciated who was blowing the whistle, and how. To this day, I don't quite understand how, but there she was, sitting on the stage blowing a whistle with her lady-parts, just like that. 

Our beer soon arrived, as the fanfare played, and the next act began. It was a lot more subdued than the one we had walked in on, nymphs dancing softly with bare chests and skirts flowing like moonlight until the lights close. 

The fanfare played again, a girl walked onto the stage, and without any warning, promptly pulled approximately 30 razor blades tied together with string out of her bits. 


She held the string out for the audience, and for a freak moment I had the horrible thought that she was going to skip rope with it. Instead she picked up a piece of rubber hose and proceeded to demonstrate that the blades are indeed real by slicing inch-long lengths off it. I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the table, I was so dumbfounded, and by the incredulous looks other the others' faces they were in the same state of shock. 

The stage lights dimmed again, this time gym mats resembling a table and chairs were placed on the stage, there was a call for volunteers, and a plate of something unseen was laid on the table. The girls moved in the crowd and rounded up Bear, one of our Newtown boys and 2 other unsuspecting victims. They were given seats at the table, and had to eat the fruit of the girls' naked flesh. Everyone involved was pretty glad we'd had our hepatitis boosters before we left Australia. 

Next, the lady with the whistle was back, this time she shot blow darts at a balloon that Bear was holding. Incorrectly aimed darts skewered themselves into the wall on either side of her, until finally the balloon popped with a bang.

Another more subtle dance followed, the dancers were bare breasted in cropped oriental embroidered vests, long creamy-coloured bell sleeves lending further flow and elegance to their limbs as they brushed the air with scarlet feathered fans.

Soon there was another call for volunteers, and a guy and a girl were pulled up on stage. The girl was subjected to a half lap dance, half massage, throughout the entirety of which she covered her eyes and shook her head in shame, whilst the guy was being coaxed out of his clothes and into a towel.

It was then his turn for a massage, he had three masseuses, six breasts working him. He appeared to be loving it despite the crowd watching. The girls then took turns, the last one using her butt cheeks to slap him around the face.

She must have either finished him off, or he was thinking about dead puppies because, suddenly, she whipped off his towel, leaving him naked, at which point he waved around his flaccid self for all to see. 

Whistle Lady was back again after this, she cracked an egg into a glass, the hard way.

On this note, we left. We hadn't actually seen a ping pong ball show, but we figured we'd seen enough.

It wasn't even 9 o'clock by this time, the night had only just begun. 

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