Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

Another break — what must people be thinking? I spend all my time telling everyone how hard I work and there I was going off for my second short break within a fortnight. This mini-vacation was a couple of nights in Bangkok accompanied by Peter, with Mrs. Boss and my sons in tow.

Peter was leaving to return home and wanted to do some shopping in Bangkok over his last few days. I agreed to accompany him. After all, what could be better than some time in The Landmark (my favourite Bangkok hotel), a few bottles of good red wine in their thirty-first floor lounge and Huntsman’s pub, followed by several hours enjoying the scenery in Nana Plaza, the nearby quadrangle awash with bars and go-go establishments? I would be able to rest up all day, watch movies and order food from the room service menu to build up my strength for nights on the town with my best friend. I can relax far more in Bangkok than I can in Pattaya, where it seems everyone knows me and are primed and ready to report back my every action to Mrs. Boss, therefore these trips to the capital are much valued.

It was, however, not to be. The chosen weekend coincided with my sons being on half-term holidays from their schools and, as such, Mrs. Boss suggested we could all go to Bangkok for these few days. I could not hide my delight at the thought of swapping Nana Plaza by night for whatever would be selected as passing for entertainment by my sons and dear lady wife! Whatever it was going to be I was certain of one thing, it would most certainly not involve me sitting drinking in a go-go bar surrounded by hundreds of almost naked beautiful women. It was also made quite clear to me that the suggestion of going to Bangkok ‘en famille’ was not one to which I could respond in the negative. It was rather more a statement than a suggestion (in the way most utterances from Mrs. Boss are). I duly resigned myself to my fate and resolved to put on as brave a smile as possible, although it would likely be rather more reserved than the idiotic grin I develop when the centre of attention from numerous near naked nubiles!

During the taxi ride to Bangkok both Sam and James were very excited about our trip away and shared with me the news that we would be visiting ‘Dream World’ the next day. I had no idea of what Dream World, was although I was damn near certain it was not going to be a venue that had even a small role to play in any of my dreams. They explained, to their bemused looking old man, that this was a place of fun crammed full of various attractions, “same same as Chessington World of Adventures” Sam advised. Fan-bloody-tastic, I mused. If you have read Riff-Raffles, you will have seen my account of the day trip Sam and I took to Chessington World of Adventures in early 2005. My joy at knowing a similar stomach churning series of so-called attractions lay in store for me successfully removed the last layer of gloss that remained for me in relation to this mini-break. In fact, a mini-break rather than a full on broken neck was now all I could hope for as the best outcome.

We arrived at The Landmark and checked in without any ado and made for our rooms with time to rest before heading off for some early evening shopping. I successfully managed to purchase a few new t-shirts and a new pair of shoes without threatening to strangle any shop assistant, although in the shoe department I did come close. I would be presented with the shoes of my choosing and then find them too tight or just plain uncomfortable and hand them back to the assistant telling her the reason why I did not want that particular style. The assistant would then pick up exactly the same style of shoe, simply a different colour, and recommend I try them on. After three separate explanations as to why a change of colour would not make the slightest difference I walked away from the shoe counter for a while, returning only when I could be sure of being served by a different assistant. I wrote my name on a piece of paper leaving it with each assistant for every proposed purchase. I then advised Mrs. Boss of what I had ordered, leaving her to sort out the payment as I took the boys to McDonalds. I therefore managed to completely avoid the fifteen different hurdles one has to jump over in order to successfully complete a purchase in any Thailand department store.

As it turned out, ‘Dream World’ was good fun and the boys had a high old time, literally and metaphorically. The start was rather typical of Thailand though. We drove along the road leading to the entrance looking at signs, every twenty meters, announcing free entry to any person whose birthday was in July — all of the signs were in English only. When we reached the payment kiosk I eagerly thrust forward my passport as proof of me being a July child. The attendant smiled before telling me that the offer only applied to Thai nationals. I started to question why there were numerous signs written in English regarding this offer and a total lack of any such announcements in Thai. I was once more being confronted by an inane grin and shrug of the shoulders accompanied by Mrs. Boss telling me not to waste my breath. We then secured passes for Mrs. Boss, Sam and James before being advised that Peter and I, as non-Thais, had to go to another entrance to purchase our tickets!

I am well aware that almost everything in Thailand has a dual pricing system for Thais and farangs, but now we were not even permitted to stand in the same queue. Off we trotted to the appropriate farang ticket purchasing centre, where it came as no surprise to me that we were asked for considerably more money than the locals. As they took our passport details, I was then told I could not buy my ticket at that particular counter and had to go and join another queue. I was advised that as I held a twelve month visa, there was a separate rate for people in my position. It turned out that I paid somewhere between the lower rate charged to Mrs. Boss and the higher one paid by Peter. This minor recognition, of me as a more significant contributor to the Thai economy than the average farang, went a long way to easing the angst I felt at having to join my third queue of the day just to get in to the damn place. Dream World was already starting to resemble the stuff of nightmares.

Everything improved though as we travelled around the park on a cable car, went on various rides, enjoyed the delights of bumper-boats and played a few of the fairground-style games. There were queues for the most popular attractions, although none required us to wait more than five minutes and my normal lack of patience was not put under any undue pressure. Sam won a huge stuffed toy after succeeding in bursting seven balloons with seven darts which set all the bells at the stall ringing. I spent the next few hours lugging this huge animal around the park with me, the stall owner having refused, for no sane reason, to let me leave it with them and collect it later. Added to my good mood was the fact that the main attraction, a large roller coaster, guaranteed to make you revisit your last half-a-dozen meals, was out of action for maintenance works so I was spared that potential embarrassment.

The best entertainment of the day was a visit to the ‘Snow Village’ where, upon entry, we were asked to remove our shoes. We were all provided with a pair of Wellington boots and a thickly lined jacket — the latter not being something seen too regularly in this part of the world where the temperatures rarely dip below 30 degrees Celsius. As we entered the main arena, the temperature was below freezing and the floor covered in snow. I had not experienced such temperatures for three years and realised just how nice cold weather can be — for a short while anyway. Being in a sub-zero climate knowing that you will be more than 35 degrees warmer in ten minutes time is very bearable. The main part of this attraction was a snow slide where participants clamber to the top with their inflatable raft, climb aboard, push themselves off and hurtle down to the bottom. I have never been brave and when reaching the summit noticed that it appeared considerably steeper than it had when I was at ground level. However, young James looked on in eager anticipation and, as he was sharing the sled with me, I had no obvious way to escape without looking like a pathetic wimp in front of my youngest son. As we climbed aboard and set off we picked up speed quickly and I began to seriously doubt our craft would come to a peaceful rest. I was, in fact, certain we were going to crash into the wall at the end of the ride. Fortunately our rapid rate of descent was noticed by one of the attendants who calmly slowed our sled as we arrived at the bottom of the slope thus enabling us to complete the ride safely. I clambered out of the sled relieved that I had completed this trial only for a beaming five year old to shout out, “Daddy that was great, let’s do it again.”