By Mr. F
Music and Thai lady aficionadoes around the world: In the first part of this series, Mr. F. had inspected a few joints down Sukhumvit Zoo where you can enjoy live or canned music a bit different from the rest, plus working ladies a bit more entertaining than the generic silver pole toddler.
While these places can be fun, you still deal with hired hookers who are keen on scoring so-and-so-many bar fines per night. But quite frankly: Mr. F. prefers the freelance part-time working girls in the discoes and live-music pubs over hired lady-drinks-chasers.
So in parts 2 and 3 of his tour de nuit, Mr. F. researches discos and pubs without *hired* sex workers. Still, you will find sweet welcoming ladies who would like to meet the generous farang gentleman - for a pop or for a lifetime.
In those dance digs and music bars, though, do use your social and dance skills to get along: Some of them phooying might not even put out, you don't see it from their dress or behavior.
Fortunately, the typical sex tourist is decent, polite and sensitive to gender issues. So in places like "CM2" disco, "Spasso's" or "Muzzik Café", he will not chat up beautiful unattached ladies with "You boomboom how much?" Even "You come alone?" sounds a bit too straightforward. Reader, now we leave the sleazy realms of beerbars and agogos: In the discos and pubs, exploring, discovering and charming your girl are required as foreplay. The reward: If you land a scoop, you take home a real live person, and not a drugged-up pussy-to-go. For Mr. F. that's fun.
It is a game of approach, capture and possibly move-on; you might lose time if you need to unload quick. But in places for music aficionadoes, you get to know the other one better through talk, dancing and general socialising. You can see how charming, physical, self-centered or interactive someone is, while sharing beats and booze. You enjoy the common interests for rhythm and dancing. You can even have fun with rhythm only, you are not necessarily expected to go any further. No woman in "Muzzik Café" or "CM2" is forced to score so-and-so-many lady drinks.
Even when you finally set out for your hotel room, it may be unclear what happens and if or how much Baht is expected. During his altruistic sweat-driving research for this report, Mr. F. had various interesting and delightful encounters with freewheeling ladies that were always much better than the mainstream howmuch-boomboom-byebye. All the gals from the discos and pubs maintained they had decent daytime jobs with enough money to support them and their line-up of babies and sick mothers. Upon goodbye, some even claimed they had the necessary taxi change on hand. Others remarked: "Most times I have enough money, no problem. Ok, sometimes not. Tonight I just want sanuk. If you want help me with money, up to you."
This disco stretches out under the pompous Erewan Hotel on Ploenchit road. They do have a uniformed live band, but Mr. F. does not even remember the style - must have been very eclectic tunes. The place has a hotel lobby ambience; so just like "CM2" further west, music and design are nothing to write home about. Around 11 p.m. on a weekday, nobody is moving on the dance space: sanuk maak-maak.
But: They have those very upmarket pickup girls. First Mr. F. doesn't notice them in the pitch-dark "Spasso's" hinterlands. Then he asks a waiter for a torchlight and holds it right into the faces of those mysterious silhouettes. And yes, delicate expensive female pseudo-hi-so faces shine up in the light. Simple lad Mr. F. couldn't charm or afford them - he does a runner without researching if at least a small Fanta would be within his budget at the Erewan underground.
Reader, if you want to check out "Spasso's" and its madames: This torchlight investigation is a bit embarrassing. Better bring a hi-tech night view device from your favourite army supply store. That makes it easy to spot a cutie in the dark - at least you can distinguish boy from girl.
Correctly spoken, it sounds like "Siam Square", but most people simply say "CM 2". This disco is under the huge Novotel hotel at Siam Square. Here, even farangs are asked for an ID; Mr. F.'s photocopied passport is enough, they really seem to calculate his age from the birthdate (he has a babyface). The cover charge is 220 Baht, of which 170 Baht can be used for drinks orders.
Why " CM²", when the discos in Grace hotel and Nana hotel are closer to your Sukhumvit location? Grace and Nana are TOO close to the NEP redlight complex and thus too plain - filled with female debris from the Nana agogos plus a few freelancers - using the heftily amplified noise as a camouflage that they have nothing to say. Occasional peeks have revealed gruelsome tekkno thundering. Mr. F. hopes the upmarket image and the distance to either Nana or Patpong make Novotel's "CM²" more interesting.
On this weekday after New Year, around midnight, "CM2" is busy, but not packed to the gills. It is easy to wander around to check it all out. "CM2" is a lengthy huge place with several bars, it has areas for bistro tables and for couches too, with various hidden corners, plus a dancing space. A few monitors and screens show mostly advertising for the disco. The whole establishment has nothing special or impressive; no theme and no atmosphere. There are a few flatscreens, and Mr. F. happily anticipates free internet; but it's only for the waiters to hack in orders.
The DJ hammers out speedy disco music - mostly Top-40-hits replayed as aerobics soundtracks, plus a few disco originals like Thai-American Tata Young's "Dhoom-Dhoom"; these songs offer no surprises and few changes. The merciless charmless disco scheme doesn't change one bit over two hours. Not lucky: just today there is no live band.
" CM²" has a lot of western and middle-east male customers, from very good looking early twenty-somethings to less appealing late 120-somethings. Mr. F. doesn't notice many Thai males, except for the staff. But a whole lot of unattached Thai ladies cling to bistro tables filled with whiskey, coke and soda. This is a disco, but unlike Coliseum on Sukhumvit or many other dance places, there are almost no regular couples. It really seems where Thai ladies go without a partner.
Music and ambience at " CM²" are absolutely nothing to write home about. Normally, Mr. F. would leave as soon as he had downed his Singapore Sling, bought on the cover charge plus a couple Baht on top. But Mr. F. comes from a small European village and mostly travels in the lower midrange bracket; so for a while he finds fun in watching all the bizarre rich and/or exotic creatures at " CM²". Service doesn't pester him on his dry wanderings, they are not at all pushy about selling more drinks.
Strolling through the " CM²" zoo, flickering in the heavy stroboscope light, Mr. F. notices some not beautiful, but absolutely eyecatching ladies: Blonde-dyed Thai hookers with very few patches of Polyester and cotton on them compete with heavily painted, platin-blonde-dyed Russian hookers in similar outfit, revealing a slightly more voluptous body curve. Some look like cyber-crossbreeds of Barbie and Lara Croft, straight out of a Silicon Graphics machine; they gyrate heftily around the richest and most bored looking moustached oil barons, and that is quite a show.
Most other women, though, look just like Thai girls on a night out - but definitely like rich girls: Their swanky cellphones may have more computing power than the PCs that take up the drinks orders. Their attire is often tasteful and not mean; no plateau shoes, no tattoes! They speak English as if just back from Princeton. So the ladies, even though they seem on offer, differ delightfully from the freelancers you grab in Thermae or Beer Garden. But a buffalo-lookalike-contest seems to be going on, guessing from the tons of chewing gum that's munched across the female population of " CM²".
Some fat, elderly western or middle-east business men in well-ironed long-sleeves shirts roam the grounds. They have no qualms about shoving an elbow or shoe into your softer parts as they pass by. They are so stuffed up with money, drugs and importance, they don't even notice their impolite behaviour.
When seated, these delightful gentlemen throne on their bistro-stools stone-sterne-faced without a move, exuding the air of gravity and fat wallets. Of course only one such VVVIP resides and presides per table, with a swarm of adoring sexy Thai girls dancing frenetically around him. When Mr. Big Big Money lifts a corner of his mouth to release nicotine air, or lifts a corner of his ass to release fart air, his swinging groupies break into hectical applause over the outburst of activity.
One friendly lady tries to chat up Mr. F. and offers throat drops. But in the monotonous disco beat and the hectical stroboscope light, Mr. F. is unable to perform even on the level of oral communication. Give him Thai country salsa or western pop, and he might be a charming guy again. But " CM²" paralyzes him, so he could never land a scoop here.
Relief comes when all of a sudden the DJ puts on a friendly 60ies oldie. Anything is better than uniform disco beat, sighs Mr. F. and regains power - but the oldie fades out half-way, and full lights are turned on: 2 a.m. already.
Mr. F. does one last round: Finally he can clearly see all the ladies' well made-up faces. The diffuse cloud of western boys and eastern girls has dissolved - suddenly there are a lot of clearly distinguishable couples. Out on the street, many customers are competing for rare taxis. The first two or three drivers demand a flat 100 Baht back to Mr. F.s hotel on Sukhumvit soi 20; only after 20 minutes he gets a cab that would use the meter.