3. Arrival
None of Bjorn’s friends were shocked when Bjorn had finished the story from his school days.
- You lucky devil, said Peter. You got laid when most of us were still in the closet.
- You should sue the school for a million dollars, said Robert. Even in Sweden that had to be illegal.
- We don’t have million dollar lawsuits in Sweden, said Bjorn.
- But a teacher seduced you, said Robert.
- Give me some credit. I seduced him, said Bjorn.
- I remember an ABBA song, said Peter. It was called “When I kissed the teacher”.
- Larson and I used to play that song, said Bjorn.
- Sweden, said Duff. You people have no morals. You just have high taxes and lots of free sex.
- Not as much as people think, said Bjorn.
- Was teacher Larson handsome? said Peter.
- Larson was the best looking teacher in the school.
- That doesn’t say much, said Peter.
- You can see for yourself, said Bjorn. We are still friends. Next week good old teacher Larson is coming to Thailand.
- Good and old? said Peter.
- Larson is not old, actually. It felt like he was a lot older than me when I was in school. He is eleven years my senior. Somehow that doesn’t feel like a lot of age difference today.
- Not when we have Thai boys in bed who could easily be our sons, said Robert.
- Or in your case grandsons, said Duff.
- I knew I could count on you to say that, said Robert.
- No need to thank me, said Duff.
- What do you have against paying for sex? said Robert. You have to pay anyway. Either it is cash on delivery or you pay in instalments later on. Instalments are more expensive. For the money I spend on Ae I could have a moneyboy off the Robinson corner every day.
- Rents boys are not the same as the genuine article, said Duff. Prostitutes are cold and reluctant.
- Not always, said Peter.
- Of course you can be lucky, said Duff. But in general they are a waste of time. You can buy sex but not love. Love is not for sale.
- Thailand has the best love and devotion money can buy, said Peter.
- It isn’t for me, said Duff. Prostitution is too impersonal. I am the romantic type.
*
One week later Pelle Larson, Bjorn’s former English teacher, was on the Scandinavian Airlines flight from Stockholm looking down on the green flat landscape outside Bangkok. Why didn’t I think of this before, he thought. Thailand! This was a good idea. But the flight was long and Larson was afraid of flying. Bjorn had talked him into it with his enticing tales of Thai boys. According to Bjorn Thai boys were the cutest and most lovable of boys anywhere. Larson had to try them.
We are flying too low, thought Larson. The aircraft was gliding above roads, ponds and houses. He could practically see in people’s windows. Something was wrong. Maybe terrorists had hijacked the plane to crash it into a building. Where did the cabin crew go? They had disappeared, all of them. The terrorists had killed them. Now the plane was even lower. Larson wondered if he had time to write a farewell note to his mother. No, what good would that be. He would expire in a huge ball of fire anyway. Or maybe not. Now they were over a small lake filled with muddy brown water. So this would be it. A dirty wet grave in a faraway country. Then Larson saw golf players. A green? The terrorists were crashing the plane into a golf course. How bizarre. Larson closed his eyes and prepared to die.
Bjorn Svensson was waiting for Pelle Larsson in the arrivals hall.
- Welcome to Thailand, said Bjorn. Are you sick? You look pale.
- We had a rough landing, said Larson.
- Turbulence?
- Something like that.
- I have reserved a car for us. This way please.
The two men ignored the touts shouting “taxi!” “hotel!” and “where you go?” and went to the counter where their driver waited.
Larson felt like he hadn’t showered for days. A night flight had that effect. When Larson was done and had changed to new clothes from his suitcase he tried to sleep. But his body thought it was morning in Europe, not afternoon in Thailand. Larson called his x-student.
- Scandinavian Tours & Travel, said a Thai lady.
- Can I speak to Mr. Svensson please?
- May I have your name please?
- Larson.
- One moment Mr. Lar-san. Khun Bjorn will take your call.
- Hej, said Bjorn. Sorry to leave you but I have to pretend to work a little in between. How is the hotel?
- It’s ok. I am not complaining but… it’s basic. Did you say this was the best hotel in Bangkok?
- It is the best hotel for you.
- It could be worse. This hotel is so cheap it is almost free. But why is a hotel in Thailand called Malaysia?
- It is named after the owner, not the country. Trust me, you will love the Malaysia. Have you seen any boys yet?
- That’s why I am calling. There is one outside my window, swimming in the pool. I fancy him. That is one pretty boy. How does this work? What do you do?
- Is he alone?
- There is a foreigner there too. A farang, you call it?
- The boy is taken then. The boys don’t do more than one farang at a time. At least not as long as the first one is watching.
- What a shame. He is so sexy.
- The boy is probably money. That means you can have him later. You never lose a moneyboy. You only lose your turn.
- I am not a sex tourist, actually. I am just looking, said Larson
- Of course, said Bjorn. And tonight we can do some more looking in the bars.
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