Bangkok’s dynamic duo, Dan & Andy, return yet again to quench the reading public’s thirst for tales of nights forgotten and toilet humour. In this instalment they stalk the streets of Silom in search of bright lights and big beats.
The Barbican
Soi Thaniya (Saladaeng Skytrain), 9:50pm
Andy: Since Dan was late as usual, I took the liberty of throwing down a pint and a nicoise salad (very tasty too) before Dan’s dribbling spoiled my appetite. No greasy potato skins or sour-cream-drenched nachos are going to ruin the years of tireless conditioning I’ve endured to chisel my body into perfection. Unfortunately, the only young women in the area were after Japanese punters with dubious Internet histories and collections of schoolgirl’s underwear. Still the funky disco tunes playing and the beer on tap got me in the mood for dancing. Mixing with the after-work Barbican crowd also made me feel as if I had a real job, a notion which was quickly shot down when the bill came.
Dan: I’m from the low-rent part of town so the giddy heights of Silom quickly disoriented me and I became lost in the throngs of street-stalls, tourists and ‘fucky fucky’ show men. When I did arrive, I quickly found Andy, sitting alone as usual, at the bar. The Barbican is sort of like a flash London pub with lots of shiny wood and a dumbwaiter behind the bar – the food elevator, not a staff member. Plus there are ladders on wheels, kind of like in a rich-man’s library, behind the bar, which had me mystified until I remembered where we were. Although it’s strange enough to find a London pub in Bangkok, it’s even stranger to find it in the middle of the Japanese red-light district. The wide soi is lined on both sides by hordes of ladies in gowns, clustered about the doors of their establishments like so much hanging fruit. Given the Japanese predilection for peeking up girls’ skirts, perhaps the ladders are a nod to the street’s pervy history.
Joe Bar
Surawong Rd, 11:50pm
Dan: As writers of the “Bartripping” column, we like to include the humble with the grand and stop in at the odd street-side drinkery. Plus, it keeps costs down. Joe Bar was a disappointing recommendation by Andy, although it did afford a good view of the goings and comings of the Pink(la) Panther(a) bar across the road. Perhaps Andy used the bar during his amateur private-eye days. Otherwise entertainment was limited to a tiny boom-box and a boy playing connect-four with himself, and probably cheating too.
Andy: It’s strange to find a bar so crappy and naff, complete with fairy-lights, in such a prime location. I liked the rustic furniture, though, which seemed to be made from the pieces of an old cart. Not a place I’d visit again but an interesting place to watch young men getting tanked up at a safe distance before heading over the road once their qualms about paying for sex have been forgotten.
Lucifer’s
Above Radio City, Patpong Soi 1, 12:10am
Andy: I’ve never really dug the “cave” thing here but Lucifer’s is always a reliable bet for an unpretentious rollicking night on the dance floor. I was sadly tackled early on, though, by an undesirable female who wouldn’t leave my ears alone. Unusually, I was not the only one attracting women. Being the putrid bag of scum that he is, I was surprised to see so many women gravitating towards Dan. I quickly realised that the secret of his success was his long, hard, black camera. One girl was even stroking his lens! At least he had a cap on it. Good to see that Dan’s career was finally going somewhere after that nasty spy-cam incident back in Oz. I resolved to make my own camera out of an egg-carton and go out and investigate at a later date.
Dan: I must say I have a soft spot for Lucifer’s and this night UK DJ BLIM (Boy Lost in Music) was playing so I couldn’t resist. Plus, as an attached man (sorry, female readers) it gives me an excuse to get down to the ‘Pong to peek through the doors of the go-go bars. The music was sort of big beat, sort of break beat, but quite restrained and danceable, as evidenced by Andy’s fevered twitching and shudders. Wednesday is “leather” night at Lucifer’s as well, so the leather-clad (barely) sirens were dancing and strutting around the club, attracting the clumsy come-ons and gropes of every drunkard in the place. Being a press type and this being technically, work, I was able to engage one of them in conversation about the industry and so forth, and thus decided to fuck work, have another beer, and become one of the drunkards.