>The following was written in spurts and copied from my notebook, the story is incomplete and choppy but I’m lazy and never filled in the meat. This is all that will ever be written on my 6 day trip to Bangkok. The (… <- Which is called an 'ellipsies' by the way) indicates a jump in writing, time and events.
For a moment we’re teetering between the two, racing to catch the deep blue night, then it swallows us whole. We turn east onto the highway, turning to face our new morning friend. Along the horizon the effortless speed of the sun is so prevalent and in minutes it’s in full bloom in the sky, its rays stirring awake the world benath it. Dad and I admire the colors along the sky’s feet and we feel happy for sharing such beauty. As we near the airport the sun seems to slow in it’s empty blue space, waiting for us to hop aboard a plane and follow it around the world. We’ll spend the entire day chasing the sun…
From my window seat the surface of the Berring Sea looks as though it’s covered with a white mold. As far as I can see, blocks of ice in kindergardner circles cover the seemingly endless sea, the almost black shows between the ice like a jagged river. In places the ice is snow covered and lumpy, in others it is translucent and delicate, like a tissue floating on the surface. The moldy water is both beautiful and nauseating at the same time. We’re off the coast of Alaska, about to cross the trans-pacific toll-booth known as the International Date Line. Miles from now I will jump into tomorrow, skipping all of this remaining day. I’m not too happy with this transaction but I have no choice as we pay the toll without stopping and keep moving away from what was once today…
I wake up and have no clue where or when in the world I am. It doesn’t help that outside the sea we’re over and the sky we’re under are the same color blue and you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. Hell, we could be flying upside down…
Right now if I fart, I’ll shit myself. We’re on our way to a downtown Bangkok club, Steve driving stick, smoking and talking on a cell phone; me, squirming in the passanger seat, concentrating on squeezing my ass together. Steve’s driving wouldn’t normaly concern me but if we crash I know I’ll let loose and while I’m not fearful of death, I refuse to die with shatted pants. I point this out to Steve who says, ‘Just don’t leave any of that shit in my car, man.’ If he slows down, I don’t notice.
We get to the club—it’s parking lot lined with fancy sporty cars—and walk up the steps to meet the three enormous bouncers checking the riff-raff at the door. I bet these guys know kung-fu. Apparently their riff-raff meters don’t go off, or are broken as I’m often found in the presnce of both riff and raff, but they let me through and we head into the dark of the club We walk to our table, reserved, and in front of the stage. Also reserved for us are a few bottles of black label Walker and Patron, in an instant I know what tomorrow will feel like…
I catch eyes with her at the bar, she’s…she’s…she’s georgous. Small and petite, yet with her eyes she elicits so much more, full and fat, filled with mysteries that only I can discover. I’m not horny right now, but I desperately desire sex. Maybe not in the loins but in the mind as I yurn to be a part of this place, to be inside someone somehow, their mind, where I will stay and ferment and maybe come out one day with that same slight michevous grin she’s giving me now. Her pale, soft, skin glows in the club light and her skirt is perfect, short enough to arouse, long enough to imagine. I show her to Steve who says, ‘Just go man, do it!’ letting his words roll off his tongue, lingering in the smoke filled air for me to follow, but she turns and leaves and his words fall silently unused on the ash covered floor below.
We walk back to the table and I have a few more conversations with people whom I can’t speak with. Then it happens, my lights flicker for a moment before going off. With my brain now dead weight, my neck struggles to support its new heavy load. I walk to somewhere, anywhere, some fresh air maybe but my steps are labored and careful and foolish. Near the door on a flight of stairs I stumble and almost fall, someone catches me and asks, “You, O.K?” And I mean it when I say that I’ve never felt better. They find me halfway underneath Steve’s car, passed out on the gravel…
The new world outside is flying by. Steve says we are doing over 200 km which in mph is really fucking fast, but we sit there calm, as though we aren’t moving at all, rather, the world is spinning past us…
We walk by McDonalds and Ronald himself is in the window giving a ‘wai’ to the street before him. The ‘wai’ is the Thai greeting and show of respect and Ronald is doing it to sell American cheeseburgers. Fuck you, Ronald, go home. I want to run over and knock his plastic head off. I show Steve who says, “Yeah man, you hungry?” and buys a Big Mac while I wait outside next to Ronald, drinking my beer…
I can see my reflection in the window but stare past it into the darkness—much like looking into a mirror.
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