Soi Cowboy
“Another beer mister!” Eileen asked, her hand gently on my shoulder, her crooked white teeth smiling cheekily at me.
Sure, sure, keep the beers coming, Eileen. Why the fuck not?
Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, Thailand. The place of dreams but only if you are a Farang (foreigner). For everyone else it’s hell or purgatory. Or is it? I’m fucked if I know anymore.
Last night I was pissed (drunk to any American reading this), my American colleague Rick visiting from Denver was pissed, hell, every paying customer in the whole street was pissed. The locals were all sober, all working, the “whiskey” sodas we were buying our hostesses such as Eileen were just watered down coke.
We were loud, sweaty, obnoxious and spendthrift. They were calm, polite and encouraging. Were we all playing a role?
As I slouched there willingly contributing to the Soi Cowboy micro economy I no longer knew if I was part of the problem or part of the solution.
As we were leaving a small girl, she could not be more than 5 years old approached me. She was as cute as a button, big brown eyes expressing the suffering of all brown people at the hands of all Western Colonialists of all time. (I did say I was pissed!)
“Mister, mister?” her little voice pleads in that unique, high pitched, sing song tone.
It’s 2am and she has a handful of cigarette lighters which she tentatively holds up to me.
“Where are we off to now Murph?” Rick slurs as he clumsily bumps into me.
“Hang on,” I say, my eyes not moving from the girl.
What do you do? Why the indecision? Why am I torn?
Rick leans over me, “That is tragic, she’s only as old as my Grace!”
He then shoves a handful of notes into her hands, whispers into my ear and turns away.
I continue staring at the girl as I hear the blare of the horn, screech of tyres and a sickening thud.
Fucking Rick the idiot has walked into the oncoming traffic, forgetting to look left, instead of looking right! I rushed to the side of the road to see him under a tuk-tuk, out cold. There are dozens of Thais standing around pointing, some laughing and the word “farang” echoing in the night.
So now we are at Samitivej Sukhumvit Hospital. Rick is out of surgery after having his leg pinned back into place and is in the recovery room. He’ll be eating through a straw for weeks. In a few hours I need to call Denver with an update and explain everything that happened. This should be OK as I have had Rick’s bosses out here too and they’ve all asked for and got the Soi Cowboy experience. Another cover-up is on the cards.
It is still early for Soi Cowboy so I suppose Eileen has not started work. I wonder what the little girl is doing right now, she’s been on my mind intermittently since last night?
And Rick, he’s getting no sympathy from me, which you might think is a bit rough for a bloke ran over by a tuk-tuk after giving a beggar three months salary. I call it the karma tuk-tuk as I try to separate those beautiful brown eyes and Rick’s slurring pre-crash words.
“I hope she’s got an older sister we can go and find and fuck. Older but not too much older.”
Words that taint my very existence in this beautiful land.
Ben Murphy 2021
