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2. Christmas 2002 : Angels, Gladstone & Cleopatra


carew66

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I?m loving Angels instead

 

This meant that it was the second night before I got to Nana Disco (Angels) for the first time on the trip. So much for making plans.

 

The first trip report that I ever posted I gushed enthusiastically about this place. I couldn?t believe it. I mean, I really couldn?t believe it. The main motivator behind a revisit was to check that that first visit must have been a one-off. I must have hit it on a good night or something. No way could it have been how I remembered and described it. I am the man who hates discos (nightclubs if you prefer ? all the same).

 

It must be me. Because it was the same as I remembered it and this time I wasn?t desperately watching the calender before I headed back to the world. I could take my time and really take it all in.

 

It is possibly not everybody?s cup of tea ? horses for courses and all that ? but if you, like me, are a confirmed disco hater then try this place just once. Humour me. Tell me I?m wrong. It won?t make much difference to me though. I love this place. There?s an energy about the room. A sense of real joy. Cynics may cite all sorts of underlying reasons behind this but then I?m wearing my rose-tinted specs on this one ? and trying not to think too much.

 

I realise now that this was the night that I was supposed to meet ib13, Rusty, Village Idiot et al at the Pink Panther dance contest in Patpong. Well, quite obviously that didn?t happen. This is Thailand. The best laid plans of mice, men and jet-lagged tourists tend to get derailed. Too many distractions. Too much for the eye to feast on. Too much of everything.

 

Was it this night that I ended up with Redbaron in the Grace Hotel? Does it matter? The fact is that at some point I ended up there with my wingman.

 

Cleopatra and Gladstone

 

I?ll call her Cleo. I might as well seeing as that?s how Red and I referred to her. I had real issues with Cleo. Her friend was a very aloof (though not obnoxious) girl; covered in gold and about 28 years old. So she?s Goldie right? Anyway, Goldie is coolly surveying the room probably mentally ticking off the good points / bad points of the men in there. Apparently she goes in the Grace but reckons that she doesn?t have to go into the Grace. There?s some rich guy in the background who?s providing her with goodies from afar and she has a perfectly respectable day job. Makes sense I suppose. It would account for the coolness (some would say ?standoffishness?) .

 

Whatever. I?m quite happy talking to her friend Cleo. She?s cool in the best sense of the word. Nice.

 

Boy, can Cleo talk. I don?t mean quantity either. She does top quality chat. She?s asking me about the potential constitutional problems for the UK should Prince Charles ever marry Camilla Parker-Bowles. I?m 100% serious about this. I wasn?t that pissed.

 

Cleo was one hell of a young woman. I was somewhat smitten. The hook had gone out and wee fishy here had gone for it. What?s the worst that can happen?

 

But one thing had started to bother me.

 

It?s what I think of as my ?Gladstone? moment. William Gladstone was a Victorian Prime Minister who liked to get down and dirty in the East End of London and try to ?save? prostitutes. Yeah I know. Sounds like a right crock of shit doesn?t it? We all know that this was probably a pre-emptive defence should he ever have any fingers pointed at him but there you go. That?s history for you. They were right ravers those Victorians ? have you seen their porn? Sorry ? erotic art. But I digress.

 

I was bothered by Cleo and her intelligence. Now how mysogynistic is that eh? So I like my ladies compliant and stupid is that what I mean? Possibly. I really don?t know. Perhaps I felt threatened by someone like Cleo? Possibly. I?d have to have a long think about it ? maybe I might come to some uncomfortable conclusions.

 

So, like old Gladstone I start some old schtick along the lines of ?Why are you doing this then?? She tells me that she learned English from watching the television. This is patent horseshit and I tell her so. She?s obviously had a formal education. A fairly successful education I would say. I tell her so.

 

Then something happens. Cleo looks troubled and then tells me a little of something that sounds a lot nearer the truth than what she has been saying thus far. It?s sad. I?m touched. Then she refers to herself as a ?prostitute?. Just like that. She came out with it, ?Now I am just a prostitute?. It was like a physical blow. You see, perhaps I like my euphemisms. Perhaps it makes me feel better. But to be confronted with the ugly word, no matter that it is the truth, was a right old kick in the groin. Of course she was right. Of course she was. But I didn?t want to hear that.

 

So I take off my top-hat and unfurl my cape. Tapping my horse?s head walking stick and twirling my moustache I go into full Gladstone mode. This was not out of philanthropy. This, on reflection, was all about me.

 

She?s in tears by now and I am hugging her. People are beginning to look at us. No doubt they think that I am Evil Carew who has upset Cleo with a request for some unnatural sexual practices possibly involving a bucket of soapy frogs.

 

?Be still fair maiden? I exclaim, summoning a hansom cab from the foggy streets of Soi 3, ?Get thee hence to my boudoir in the Dynasty Inn. I shall attend to you in due course in my chambers?

 

So, we end up back at my hotel. She is somewhat more cheerful now but I am not. We talked much more. Yeah, I?ve heard those stories about guys who pay girls ?just to talk? as well. If the cap fits I suppose?

 

I?m tired. Totally knackered. So I stuck 1500 baht at her and said ?Right, are you happy now? Do you feel like a prostitute now? Happy?? She looked at me then stated the obvious ?Yes?. That shut me up. Life behind the Irony Curtain eh?

 

I then told her to get some sleep. And she did. And so did I.

 

Weird guy huh? Well, like I said, I?m not really into philanthropy and the next day Mr Gladstone had disappeared. Remember, I fancied this girl like mad. I ain?t no nice guy, (?Larry Underwood ? ?The Stand? Stephen King).

 

A very special young woman indeed.

 

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Mesmerising stuff, sir. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, so I do both. I agree with all you're saying, anyway, and I'm glad I could participate, even if just a Beergarden cameo role. Seems like yesterday, (wish it was tomorrow and we could do it again). :)

 

We'll meet again. Mid-April (see 'Meetings' section)? ::

 

jack :drunk:

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  • 4 months later...

Weird seeing these things again. All my Trip reports are th same anyway "...went to Biergarten Soi7, then I went to Gullivers, then I went to Nana Disco..."

 

It's like freaking Groundhog Day.

 

She was 'nice' though. Definitely not a GTG or a NBG or a GGG or a TGH or a RFL or any of that old shite. Just nice.

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