Laughing in the face of countless angry phone calls and idle threats from malcontent bar owners whose view of themselves differs from the rheumy but sharp eye of Bartripping’s main helmsman, Daniel Cooper heads out on the tiles with his good mate and co-worker Stuart Singleton. Tonight’s target is Banglamphu. Is it still cool, hip, trendy, buzz and dope? More importantly is it too hip, trendy, buzz and dope for Dan and Stuart? Read on…
8:02pm, Kon Koen (The Klong Bar), Klong Banglamphu
Stu: Dan, fucking late again, the bastard, kept me loitering with intent in local bars while getting aurally abused by the dragon dance festival going on across the road. After many unanswered calls and text messages, Dan finally arrived with chapped lips and a thirsty liver, eager to start the shenanigans. By the time we got to local best kept secret, the Klong Bar, I was half-starved, half-cut and ready for another beer. A typical island-style bar with wonky wooden walls, a musty smell and rickety tables, you’d barely know you were in Bangkok.
Dan: Arriving while the annual Soi 2 Chinese noise festival was in full swing, Stu chastised me for lateness. It’s hardly my fault if Dan Senior decided to make his yearly call from the old country during ‘working’ hours. The festival features Chinese lion-dancers, Ming opera and free outdoor movies, all at top volume and only drowned out by the 24/7 bingo game. Shouting to be understood, I suggested that we retire to the Klong Bar, an oasis of peace and quiet in otherwise deafening Bangkok. Quiet that is, until they turn the jukebox up full blast to drown out the noise.
9:40pm, The Cave, Khaosan Road
Dan: Readers of the Bangkok Post and other subversives may have spotted ads for The Cave, the city’s only fetish club – an arena of ropes, harnesses and unusual hobbies. Turns out that place is in Sukhumvit Soi 33. The Cave on Khaosan Road is Bangkok’s only sport-climbing restaurant – also an arena of ropes, harnesses and unusual hobbies. The main feature of this restaurant/bar is the 20 metre high climbing wall, mapped out with routes from grades 6B to 9A. Being the more sober of our duo, I exercised restraint and allowed Stu to stagger his way up the wall, split pants and all.
Stuart: Set just off the main Khaosan drag, The Cave lures punters inside with three animal-skin clad beauties touting customers on the street. My “Me Tarzan, you Jane,” quip fell on deaf ears. I guess they’re not fans of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Nevertheless we had a job to do and scrambled into The Cave’s mouth. The cavernous three-story interior was made even more profound by the lack of clientele, which is a shame since it’s a nice place – a place that finally unites exercise and alcohol-fuelled excess.
10:20pm, Reggae Bar, Trok Mayom
Stuart: On exiting the Cave we bumped into Bangkok Billy, the notorious light-bulb-headed manager of the Bulls Head who swapped the glory of Sukhumvit for the great unwashed of Khaosan on his night off. Following Billy’s recommendation, we ventured forth to one of his old haunts, the Reggae Bar, a small establishment straddling Trok Mayom (a lane, for those who don’t know), with a midget-sized pool table, a TV projector screen bigger than said pool table and a love of Rastafarian iconography.
Dan: Trok Mayom used to be the haunt of junkies and footpads, a dark alley worthy of the opening scene from The Beach. It’s also the place I called home all those years ago when I first arrived on these shores, a bright-eyed and naïve young backpacker. The Rare Art Gallery has moved into the Sunset Street complex and the lane is now all silver shops, leather crafters and tattoo parlours now, but the Rasta lives on, not unlike the smelly old stoners you sometimes see wandering Khaosan these days, dreaming of full-moons past. Still not able to snap out of barman mode, Billy got a round of Long Islands in.
11:30pm, Immortal Bar, Bayon Building, Khaosan
Dan: The Immortal has gone up and down like the Afghan flag over the last four years. Born as a metal pub and resurrected as a hip-hop bar, the place seems to be on a downward slide again. Not 12 months ago this used to be my nightly hangout spot and by midnight the place was packed with L.A gangstas (by way of Thonburi), wanna-be molls and genuine negroes. We got a hint of why there were so many empty barstools when the police popped in to say hello. Nevertheless the punters did pile in at around 12:10.
Stuart: Mortally drunk, I was mortified by Dan’s choice of venue. The dark and dank interior was set off by the retired DJ booth, a tuk-tuk, in the corner while two talented performers scratched it up at the newly installed turntables. I was slightly stunned by the entrance of the local constabulary but Billy took the bull by the horns, posed with the pigs and proffered himself for a picture.
12:50pm, Susie Pub, Soi Susie
Stuart: Devastated, distraught and disappointed with Dan’s final choice, I fought my way through the throng of bumping and grinding Thais to the bar only to be further humiliated by the Bt100 beers. Enough!
Dan: I’d been to Susie once before on a previous drinking expedition. The girls in the office had taken me out to be their token Farang man on a whiskey-guzzler. Needless to say, with half a bottle of 100 Pipers in me and four attractive Thai ladies dancing with me, I had a wonderful night. Those illusions were cruelly shattered by a noisy, dimly lit Susie, rammed to the rafters with disagreeable men and women who weren’t interested in me. There was nothing for it but to return to our regular street-side eatery where they serve beers until seven in the morning. I guess I must have been a little worse for wear since Stuart had me ordering frogs on a dare for my midnight snack but on reflection, they’re probably better than 7-11 hotdogs. It had been an interesting night, the Khaosan area holds many nooks and crannies, interesting and unknown bars and it’s reassuring to know that new adventures are there for the taking when one staggers off the beaten path.