Fifteen hours on a plane, followed by another three trying to find a hotel plus a 7 hour time zone change, meant that sleep didn’t come easily and while Bangkok’s nightlife is famous for many reasons all I needed was some carbonated alcohol. I found it in a beach-hut type bar not too far from the hotel.
I also found a new best friend called Charlie, although it’s fair to say he found me. The pasty complexion and bright white Reeboks marked me as a newbie, and he was walking by my side before I was ten yards from the door. It took a few minutes to convince him that I was on a budget and while I might be brand new to the country, I was tired and cranky and in no mood to be hustled.
Eventually he gave up trying to introduce me to a ‘nice young lady’ and joined me at the bar where, instead of trying to separate me from my cash, shared cautionary tales of previous visitors who’d arrived with romance in mind but left broken-hearted and empty-walleted.
Like, for example, the young Australian who’d recently downed a couple of cold ones in the company of a charming young sort at a nearby hostelry. When the time came to settle his bill, he was alarmed to be charged for not two, but ten beers. Naturally, he questioned this with the management who in turn, brought in two bouncers to mediate. Before long our hero found himself bleeding and crying on the floor of the bar. At his request, the police were summoned, and they drove him to the emergency room, helpfully stopping by the ATM so he could withdraw enough cash to pay the doctor. They even stayed with him while he received treatment; then kindly drove him back to the bar to settle his still outstanding bill. Which had now risen to thirty beers.
Over the course of the next couple of hours I learned that Charlie had one wife and two girlfriends, one of whom was pregnant. When I asked him what he did for a living he told me he got by, doing ‘this and that’. “This and that?” I asked him. “What’s it like having two jobs?” But as is often the case with my humor, it went over his head.
We also chatted about beer, the drug problem and my first love, football. He claimed to be a big fan of English soccer, but couldn’t name any of the teams. He had however, heard of Bobby Charlton* so that suggested at least a passing interest in the beautiful game.
Compared to some of the street hustlers into which I’ve run, Charlie was a pleasant enough guy. When it came time to settle my bill, he insisted on paying half, even though I’d drunk more than him and had planned to pick up the whole tab. He even walked me back to the hotel “to make sure I’m safe”. However, when I surfaced, sticky and grumpy the next morning, I was in no particular mood to see him again.
So it wasn’t surprising that I was barely off the hotel grounds when he appeared from nowhere, wearing the same stained chinos and ripped T-shirt of the night before, all smiles and ready to help me in my quest for cheaper lodgings. At this point I still had no clue whereabouts in Bangkok last night’s cab driver had dropped me. My guidebook turned out to be hopelessly out of date (and in English) so nobody yet had been able to show me where I was.
My plan was to head towards the river and look for lodgings in some backpacker flea-pit. At that stage in my travels, Koh-San Road, the legendary Asian hub of the backpacker world, was at unknown to me. But even then I knew there would be something like that out there if I could only find it.
Instead, before I knew what was happening, Charlie had picked up my pack and was off down the street. For a moment, I thought he was robbing me but no, he was simply doing me the favor of carrying it while he took me to a ‘cheap hotel’.
Compared to the place the cab-driver had dropped me the night before, it was indeed cheap. $6 Compared to $20, but I was budgeting for about $1 - $2, and this was still too rich for my blood. However, the idea of walking around in the Bangkok heat looking for a new place, didn’t appeal so I resigned myself to another night out here, wherever 'here' was was.
How I spent my first day in that most exotic and fascinating of cities is a tale for another Gunsmoke File. I made some rookie mistakes, was overcharged several times, and ate food from a vendor that now owes me a new colon, but all in all, didn’t slip up in any serious fashion.
However, I did almost make one error that would have put a serious crimp in my round-the-world-ambitions.
Remember I said at the beginning that I had no idea where in Bangkok my hotel was situated? I didn’t know what it was called either. Which would have made it very challenging to find my way back. And considering my backpack, my passport and my wallet were locked in my room; that would have been a shade inconvenient. So it was fortunate that Charlie had had the bright idea of picking up a hotel brochure, and stuffing it in my pocket before placing me on the bus that morning.
It took a friendly native to find me the right bus back again, and another to tell me when to get off. But if it hadn’t have been for that brochure, I’d probably still be wandering around Bangkok, looking for that damn hotel today.
Thanks Charlie.
* Bobby Charlton was a demi-god of English football during the 60’s and 70’s…considerably before Charlie was born.
