Man-Ties

“Khao San?  Shit.  How am I still on Khao San?”

The infamous Khao San is the ultimate street of debauchery in the capitol city, in one of the most sexually devious countries in the world… Bangkok, Thailand.  If you can dream it, you can find it on Khao San.

I had been spending quite some time on and near this road and had gotten familiar and quite accustomed to its loveable crusty streak.  This 100 m strip of street can be horribly offensive to some, and an absolute turn on to others; a love it or hate kind of place.  This is a tale of one night.

The drinking starts quite early and innocently.  I go out with Neil the friendly, light in the loafers Scottsman, and his friend from back home and her new teaching partner in Bangkok whose name escapes me.  We grab dinner and wash it down with a tower of Chang.  Afterwards I head back to the lovely nap park hostel to shoot the shit.

I run into Christine, the vivacious black British chick with a wonderful smile.  We hang out with a gay Israeli man (a walking punchline) who is a good friend of Christine’s.  We are drinking Sangsom, Thai whiskey, with m-180, essentially red bull…on crack.  A few buckets of those and Christine and I are sitting on one of the couches.  At this point the night starts getting hazy.

It’s late.  Really late.   Making out on the couch turns into sneaking into the shower to bone.  We bang for a while and my boxers do get soaking wet which seems inconsequential, but later blooms into disaster.  The shower turns into running out to find the nearest hostel: Enter The Greenhouse.   A hotel, right in the thick of it, which has rooms for 800 Baht ($28 USD) ouch!!  I ask if we can pay an hourly rate which prompts a quick slap and warning remark from Christine.

“Ok then.  We’ll take one night please.”

I agree.

I don’t know how drunk I appear, but in this city, I’m sure it won’t take the award for most inebriated of the night.  So we stumble up the stairs and straight to bed for us.  We bang until sunrise but not without pain.  Christine gives me an asian condom which is MUCH too small for me.  It was like trying to put an uninflated mini- balloon over your Johnson.  The ring leaves deep pressure marks and I get a rash on my head that stays for almost a week.  But hey, the sex was phenomenal so I don’t mind.

I come to at 9, plenty of time for my interview at 1 o’clock.  I get dressed but can’t find my boxers for the life of me.

“They’re drying in my room at nap park, don’t you remember?!” Christine replies.

I smile and nod.  I have no recollection whatsoever of what she speaks as I attempt to break out of my drunken haze, but I do remember my underwear getting good and wet.

“Oh well.  I gotta go to my job interview meow. “

I zip up my shorts and stand straight until a sharp pain strikes me down straight and square into the shaft of my penis.  I am left leaning, looking at the floor.  I see the condom wrapper, when my penis starts to scream.

“NOO!!!!!  Oh my god NOOOOO!”  My penis cries as it starts to flail and scream for mercy.  My unit is on fire now.   The metal from my zipper rubs and eats the skin, peeling away microscopic flakes from the shaft upon each impact.  To counter this I hunch my upper back and squeeze my stomach in, protecting my penal unit upon impact by creating shelter of an exaggerated S-curved spine.  Walking down those stairs was like walking through a mine-field, each step had the potential of dick explosion— so I stepped with extreme caution.  And so I creep down the stairs with the caution of a twice-convicted pedophile at large.

A simple good morning is all it takes for the ladies behind the front desk to burst into laughter straight in my face.  I must be a dead giveaway, no misinterpreting that reaction.  Not now, not evuh.

Much to the general public’s horror, due to my wounded Petey, I have to hobble around the streets like the fucking hunchback of Notre Dame.

A young boy of about 3 years old points his finger and bursts out in excitement.

“Look mommy!  It’s snowing!!  Can I eat the snowflakes?!  Can I??  Can I???!!”

“No, son.  That man has dick dandruff.  Do not touch it,” the boy’s mother replies.

And so I slink down the street, shedding behind layers of dead dick skin along my path like Hansel and Gretel, only instead of candy, it’s rotten, cum stained dead skin.  This will not fly.  I carefully shuffle over to 7-11 to come up with a game-plan.  Looking down one of the aisles, a solution presents itself.  I see a picture of cheap models, wearing what appears to be hospital gowns.  Turns out, the package is for disposable panties.  I show no hesitation and grab my salvation.  After stepping outside, I realize that I can’t go another step, I need protection, NOW.  I was standing in front of a hotel so I make my way in.  As I hobble past the front desk, I can’t even look at who’s behind it.  I realize that I am taking nobody by surprise right now.  So I pass the desk and look for a bathroom, a spare room, anything.

Of course the bathroom is nowhere to be seen.  But I do find a cleaning closet.  I close the door and carefully break into my new disposable panties like a horse to a new saddle.  Although not forgiving on my poor penis, it does provide protection enough for me to stand at my height like a normal human being.  I walk out of the hotel carrying with me a wonderful sense of satisfaction.  I have endured the worst of the siege against my wiener.   I smile as I am finally able to take a deep breath.

There’s not too much time to dwell in my victory as I have a job interview in 2 hours.  I take the long ride home and are bogged down by the legendary Bangkok traffic.  I make it back to my hostel with no time to spare.  I rip off my clothes and check my email for the address of my interview.  I see that an email was waiting for me, it is from the woman I am scheduled to interview with.

 

Dear Mr. Melville,

Due to your failure to appear at your agreed upon interview, we are no longer interested in pursuing your employment at our school.

Thanks,

Jill

 

As it turns out the interview was at 10, not 1.  I somehow missed a zero in there somewhere.  I look up from the computer and see my own reflection in the mirror.  It is truly frightening- unruly bed head, unshaven, obviously very intoxicated, wearing only white, elastic disposable panties with a “fashionable” ruffle down the middle. After a brief moment of shock and disgust beholding myself in the mirror, I laugh and crawl into bed.

“Oh Bangkok… You sonuvabitch.”  I chuckle before it all goes black.