Gay Boy Thailand

Night shift

Sometimes I get gay taxi drivers in Bangkok. This was the case with the young man who picked me up on Suriwong road one evening this week. Before I had even entered the car the driver said:
- Looking for boy? Read the rest of this entry »

Taxi sir?

One of the tricks when arriving at Suv airport in Bangkok is to go upstairs to departures and take an incoming taxi instead of lining up downstairs.

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I had a Thai taxi driver who talked about Indians. I don’t remember how the topic of Indians came up but this driver had a lot to say about them, not much of it favourable I am afraid.

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Yesterday I was standing on a street corner at rush hour, having waited a few minutes and getting “no go” from a few taxi drivers.

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Almost too good to be true

I found the perfect taxi driver when I returned from a visa run to Malaysia recently. He was a middle aged Thai-Chinese guy, a steady driver and a safe pair of hands. I asked for his phone number so I could hire him to take me to Pattaya next time I went to Sleazeville.

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This is the full report after the taxi driver fight in the soi last Friday night. Our maid (aka the gossip central) knew which of my neighbours was involved, and I spoke to him.
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When leaving Pattaya I got on a baht bus in 2nd road. I noticed there were no men yelling “taxi Bangkok” outside VC Hotel. This was a bad sign.

I was with two young English blokes and a blonde Russian hooker who wore blue sunglasses. The blokes chatted up the Russian girl, who despite her youth and stunning looks sounded as if she had been around for a while.

The World Class Transportation system in Pattaya showed its charm again when the baht bus driver stopped in the middle of 2nd road. The driver said something to the hooker, who replied - In English please?
The driver spoke in Thai again. I believe I heard the word “pak”, which means to rest or to have a break. He was dumping us to have his lunch break.
- Don’t speak to him, said the Russian girl. – Just get out.
Everyone got out.
The English blokes gave the driver some money. The more hardened passengers, i.e. the hooker and I, walked away without paying and hailed another songtaew instead.

Going home from Pattaya took almost seven hours. When I arrived at the bus station I found it filled with hundreds of Bangkok kids who had been at the music festival. They sat, stood and lay everywhere. Some had guitars. The management of the bus station had turned on the water spray fan system, which I rarely have seen in use. This cooled the ones that were lucky enough to actually be inside the station.

When trying to take the bus from the World Class Destination Pattaya it pays to speak Thai. The bus company gave no information in English about the delay. I received a ticket with no bus number. Usually I find the bus by looking at the number on the side of it, such as 55-48. The departure time is less to go by as they might leave at a different time, sometimes sooner and often later.

I had to beat the crowd up to the people that inspected tickets and let people on the busses. They only knew one word in English: “No”. Having told me “no” they pretended not to see me anymore. A helpful farang said the bus number system had broken down, now they filled the busses according to the departure time printed on each ticket. This sounded good, except that this system broke down too, and departure times and actual boarding times were out of sync. This meant that the voice over the loudspeaker, which could not be heard well due to the noise from the crowds, would say at 2pm that the 12.40 pm bus was ready. Of course they said this in Thai only.

I had to hover near the busses every ten minutes or so to hear which bus was leaving, or if I didn’t hear anything, wave my ticket in the face of the staff that pretended not to see me. I figured that as long as it wasn’t my bus they would keep pretending.

I almost lost my bus. My ticket (bought at 1.30pm) said 4.30 pm. I kept listening for “sii mong saam sip”. But they didn’t say that. They said “sii mong krung”, which means four and a half. I was the last passenger to board and took my seat at the back in a bus where I was the only passenger over 22.

One of the pleasant sides of Thailand is the Thai group feeling. The Thais give off friendly vibrations. I feel included. I was sure the Thai youths around me all knew each other, but when I listened in I heard they did not. They were random couples and small bands of friends. They spoke to me in English and politely made space for me and my bag.

Strangers to each other they might have been, but that didn’t last long. Soon they chatted and joked and when we crossed the border to Bangkok city the socialising process had gone as far as they wanted to take group pictures of the back section of the bus. A girl took cameras from people, and took pictures. She told everyone to smile.
- Speak English so the farang can understand it, said someone in Thai.
- Smile please, said the girl in English.
Thus I became a reluctant part of pictures of Thai students on a bus.

I played my role as a tourist. Since they spoke to me in English I didn’t reveal that I understood (some of) what they said in Thai. I almost switched to Thai when they (again politely) let me take my bag and leave the bus first but I decided it was too late for that. They had been models of Thai courtesy and when I heard them speak about the farang they never said anything negative.

The Thais looked at me to see my reaction when a fight broke out between a girl and her boyfriend right in front of me. They were arguing about where to get off the bus, at On Nut or at Ekkamai. The girl suddenly changed from being a cool-and-in-control 20something to a furious four year old. She hit the boyfriend first. The fight was brief but loud and fierce, with the two slapping each other and the boy holding her off while grinning an embarrassed smile. I pretended not to see it.

I had one of those chatty and friendly taxi drivers yesterday. He was a 30something with a small moustache. As often is the case, this joviality led to him pulling out a glossy spread with pictures of naked women when we stopped for red light on Satorn road.

- You wan massass sir? asked the driver.
- No thanks, I said in Thai.
- Have beautiful lady!
- I don’t want it.
- Why?
- No thanks.
- Too expensive?
- They give the taxi driver money. How much is it? 500 baht? 1000 baht?

The driver looked at me in the mirror with an expression first of surprise, then he was offended. The conversation was over. The driver turned up the radio. The atmosphere turned decidedly frosty and we drove the rest of the trip without speaking.

Arriving at my destination I gave him what the meter said. The driver was still angry with me and accepted without a word.

I had made him lose face. In Thailand it often isn’t the person who has done something bad who gets the blame. No, the blame goes to the person who said it aloud, exposing the cheating and the trickery, thereby upsetting social harmony. My role, as seen from the taxi driver’s perspective, would be to at the very least smile and pretend I understood nothing of his kickback scheme. Throwing it back at his face was bad form.

Thailand is not a good place to be a whistleblower. Hush!