Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

I was pleased my efforts of recent weeks had been rewarded with a few ‘Brownie Points’ from Mrs. Boss and knew these to be awarded sparingly. In case you are not familiar with the system ‘Brownie Points’ are opposite to ‘Black Marks’. I had hoped I would be able to accrue sufficient ‘Brownie Points’, bank them and have them available to trade against ‘Black Marks’ should the need arise. It, however, appears that I got the entire marital “Black Marks’ and ‘Brownie Points’ system completely wrong. In order for you to avoid the same mistake I will explain the system so far as I understand it:

‘Brownie Points’ are awarded for exemplary behaviour, however, they have a relatively short shelf-life. They need to be used almost immediately in order for you to realise their full face value. These points can be deducted at any moment in time for whatever reason.

‘Black Marks’ are accrued for what your partner considers to be unacceptable behaviour. They have a long shelf-life and in some cases can last a lifetime. ‘Black Marks’ are rarely ever removed from your record even should you successfully plead your innocence. Once awarded, I am sorry to say, you are stuck with them.

The most important thing to remember is that ‘Brownie Points’ cannot be offset against ‘Black Marks’, they have absolutely no transfer value. ‘Black Marks’ on the other hand can be, and are, used to completely wipe out any ‘Brownie Points’ you may have built up.

As I have stated I had completely misunderstood the Brownie Points and Black Mark system. Basking in the glory of my continued weight loss and the high esteem in which Mrs. Boss presently held me I decided it was time for me to have a night out on my own. I live in Pattaya, the place is packed with bars, go-go clubs and general nightlife and I wanted to have a look around and see what all the fuss was about. It is almost a year since I arrived here and I had never been to see what the vast majority of visitors come here to enjoy. Of course I have seen all of this entertainment in Bangkok and Phuket in years gone by but I was desirous of comparing these places with what Pattaya had to offer.

Mrs. Boss agreed to my flying solo around town whilst making it quite clear that anything outside of the “look but don’t touch’ rule would result in more pain than it was likely I could imagine. Well, I have a very good imagination but one look at her face made me realise that even I could probably not fully imagine exactly how much pain may be involved were I to err. I had taken the warning on board and headed off for my night out. I hopped from bar to bar, a drink here and a drink there. After a couple of hours the heat was getting to me so I to ventured into the nearest go-go bar. These bars are all air conditioned and this was my sole motivation for the visit, honestly!

I sat in a large ‘go-go’ and felt very awkward watching twenty or so very attractive young ladies standing next to stainless steel poles. I even saw a couple of them making the effort to move to the music although I would stop short of actually calling this dancing. I know from past experiences that even the merest of glances in the direction of a girl on the stage results in them sitting themselves down next to you immediately they finish their ‘routine’. It was this I wanted to avoid. I was certain that news of even the slightest indiscretion on my part would get back to Mrs. Boss and the removal of a certain part of my anatomy, without the aid of any anaesthetic, was not something I wanted to contemplate. I therefore sat in a room full of scantily clad, very attractive women gazing up at the ceiling or down at the floor!

After exiting the first go-go bar of the night a few more beer bars followed. Eventually, rather worse for wear than was likely good for me I decided to call it a night, although by this time its proper name was ‘morning’! It was about two after midnight and I was returning home on foot in the one step forward one step sideways ‘crab-like’ walk many men employ when inebriated. I was only a hundred meters from the hotel when I was hailed by a bar owner I know who beckoned me in for a nightcap. I decided it would be impolite to refuse and, in no time at all, found myself engaged in a game of pool with one of the ladies from the bar. It was nothing more than that, a simple game of pool where I spent most of the time trying to work out which way round to hold the cue and which of the two hundred balls, that appeared to me to be on the table, to hit. For a split second my vision returned to something approaching normality and I cracked the cue ball from one end of the table into two balls at the far end. It was a perfect shot and sent one ball into the far left pocket and the other into the far right. This was probably the best pool shot I have played and I was reasonably pleased with myself. My young attractive female opponent was of a good sporting nature and, being impressed with my skill, flung her arms around me in a congratulatory fashion. As I enjoyed the momentary embrace, and to be honest the feel of this firm young body pressed against mine, I looked up to see Mrs. Boss standing at the entrance to the bar.

Silence descended on the bar as Mrs. Boss took a few steps forward. The young girl looked round and immediately released her grip on me and took several steps back, it was as though I had just developed a serious and highly contagious disease. I simply stood there grinning like a prize idiot. The entire scene Mrs. Boss had witnessed was one of complete innocence. She had simply arrived at the wrong moment in time. Any other second during the last six hours would have seen me sitting on my own watching the world pass by or in a ‘go-go’ bar with my eyes fixed to any inanimate object, other than those on the stage.

I decided, believing I had committed no crime, to greet Mrs. Boss with a hug, a kiss and the offer to buy her a drink. My offer was met with a scowl and complete silence so I decided it best just to get another drink for myself. No sooner had I placed my new beverage on the table than Mrs. Boss had picked it up and dispatched the contents onto the street outside. Now, as is the case with many of us, when under the influence of alcohol we believe our sense of humour is at its finest. It was with this mistaken belief that I said “Oh dear you seem to have accidentally spilt my drink.” I promptly ordered another. This was served, rather reluctantly it should be said, and met with the same fate as the previous offering.

I now made an even greater mistake. Mrs. Boss had stood like stone for several minutes now, save for the split second movement of the arm to dispatch the drinks, and had not uttered a word. I therefore, in my infinite wisdom, decided to return to complete my game of pool! Please do not ask me what was going through my head that allowed me to arrive at such an idiotic decision but as I arched my back to play a shot the silence was broken. “So you still want to play pool do you? Well then play with this.” At this point one of Mrs. Boss’s stiletto heeled shoes flew through the air, hit the white cue ball which went into the black ball sending the latter directly into the pocket with said shoe finishing wedged into another pocket! If my earlier shot was one of brilliance then this, somewhat less than conventional attempt, was straight out of the never to be repeated ‘trick shot’ handbook.

The stiletto throwing incident gave rise to me making the decision that I should have made much earlier. I decided to return home and ‘face the music’ before, were such possible, which it was, matters worsened. I gathered my belongings, paid for my drinks, those that I had consumed and those that had been dispatched to the street. I walked past the door to the toilets as the young lady I had been playing pool with emerged. I felt her hand brush my side but thought nothing of it. I was now sobering up quickly and starting to become concerned at what was likely to follow when we were back in our hotel.

Once back at Jasmine Mansion the abuse I had been anticipating quickly got underway. I defended myself the best I could. I have been in Thailand for ten months and this was the first time since arriving I had gone out for a real ‘night on the town’. I had worked damn hard during this period and even harder over the last few weeks, surely I was entitled to some innocent amusement? This merely led me into the rather less defendable area of being caught in an embrace with a person of the opposite sex. Whilst I did not initiate the embrace, nor did I actually reciprocate in any way, I can obviously imagine how this scene had appeared to Mrs. Boss. However, I explained the situation and what had led to this merest, and most innocent, of flirtations.

I considered myself to have made a reasonable case for the defence even if this jury were never going to acquit me. As the heated conversation started to cool Mrs. Boss enquired as to how much I had spent on my night out. I had absolutely no idea. A drink here, a couple there and so on over six hours meant it would be upwards of two thousand Baht but certainly nothing ridiculous. She demanded to count my money and, for the sake of peace and I quiet I agreed and emptied the contents of my pockets onto the table in front of us. I then looked at the pile of coins, crumpled notes of various denominations, my cigarettes, my lighter and my handkerchief. I then screamed, although no sound was emitted, as I saw, perched on the top of this pile, my death warrant…..a pair of ladies white panties. I realised immediately that the girl from the bar must have put them in my pocket when she brushed her hand by my side as I was leaving. I have no idea why she did this and, frankly, I do not care. If any man can come up with a plausible explanation for having another woman’s undergarments in his pocket in such circumstances then he is by far a better man than me.

It is, of course, totally unnecessary for me to explain the further level of abuse I was forced to endure. I will also desist from recounting the stories regarding the number of times these panties were, literally as well as metaphorically, thrown into my face over the next few hours.

I have spent the last week shunned, not even looked at let alone spoken to. What really gets to me though is that I am, in the immortal words of Billy Joel, an ‘Innocent Man’.