Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

After a relatively good day on Wednesday in Udon Thani, I decided to treat myself to a beer or two in the local hostelries that evening. I started, and also finished, in a bar called Mojo’s. I had been there on numerous occasions in the last couple of years and was most often the only customer in a very large bar. That suited me fine as I could sit quietly, enjoy a drink and just let random thoughts flow through my brain.

This time, however, Mojo’s was packed. There must have been over 100 patrons in the bar and the place was alive with conversation rather than deafening music. I found one of the few remaining seats and ordered a beer. The waitress immediately told me that on Wednesday’s they do a free buffet, showed me where it was and suggested I get myself some food. I had not eaten so I looked at the wide choice of Thai and Western foods, helped myself to a few servings and returned to my seat. When the waitress returned with my beer she asked my name, although I was not interested in getting into a conversation with her I had to be polite as I was being looked after so well. “Kevin you play pool, I put your name on board for you.” This was not a question but a statement as she hurried off and wrote K-e-w-i-n on a blackboard by one of the three pool tables. I was about tenth on the list and was forced to drink another couple of bottles of Heineken before my name had risen to the top. I was, however, unconcerned as I had been watching the games and realized every single player was considerably better than me. I would simply play my one game and go back to the hotel for an early night…but it never works that way, does it?

I’ve written several times about my competitive nature, so you probably have a good idea of where this is going. Although as I approached the pool table I knew I was going to get soundly beaten I was still not going to go down without a fight — and before you start, no, I would not be picking up one of the bar stools and crashing it over my opponent’s cranium moments after losing! As it transpired and against all the odds I won the first game. I took on and beat the next player and then the one after that. After almost two hours at the table I was eventually beaten, I had played the best pool I have ever played and, as a result, drank considerably more bottles of Heineken than intended. When I returned to my seat someone came over to me and asked, “Is this you?” They were holding a recent issue of the Udon Thani Guide, which had an article about Riff-Raffles in it accompanied by a picture of Mrs. Boss and me. My admission to being me led to several people seating themselves around me, chatting about the book and buying me more beers than I could possibly consume. I left the bar at closing time and I was very drunk. Although I had enjoyed a wonderful evening, it was not remotely part of any plan I had conceived for this night.

I staggered out of bed on Thursday. I tried to do some work, but even reading was beyond me. I had promised the previous night to take some signed copies of Riff-Raffles around to Mojo’s bar for them to sell, together with a small poster for their notice board advertising the book. I managed to struggle through preparing the advert and set off with my memory stick to find a local printer who would be able to print the page and laminate it — a simple errand…or so I imagined. I should, of course, know far better by now that nothing in Thailand is straightforward. A succession of places unable to read a simple Microsoft Word document or no colour printing facilities had started to irk me. After an hour of achieving absolutely nothing, I came across a small internet café which clearly stated that it had colour printing facilities. I entered and checked that they did colour printing and the assistant smiled and pointed to the sign on the wall behind her: COLOUR PRINTING — B20 PER PAGE. At last, I sighed to myself. I was even more relived when the document loaded successfully and I asked the assistant if it was okay for me to print. She responded in the affirmative and I sent the document off to print. A few seconds later I was handed a copy of my advertisement in…black and bloody White.

“This is not colour?”

“No,” the assistant replied as if I were even mad for suggesting such.

“But I want a colour copy — we talked about that.”

“Yes.”

“You print again mister okay?”

“Okay.”

I printed the document again and once more was presented with a black-and-white version. I spoke to the assistant and showed her my second non-colour colour document. I then looked at the printer, which she was now investigating and lifting up the various flaps and opening lids and so forth. Immediately I noticed the problem. “This is a Black and White printer,” I advised her. This revelation did nothing to dampen her resolve and she continued to pull the machine apart looking for the fault. She checked the ink (the black ink!), she fiddled around with various components and was totally perplexed by events, she could find nothing wrong with the printer or and, in particular, its failure to deliver up a colour page. Eventually I explained that it did not make one iota’s worth of difference as to how long she spent taking the printer apart; a black and white printer was never going to produce a colour copy. “Do you have another printer?” I enquired. “Oh yes,” she said enthusiastically pulling a sheet off a colour printer, “This is other printer but it broken.” “Me too,” I said as I left the premises.

I was forced to return to the professional print shop several kilometers from the centre of town and a lengthy round trip I had wanted to avoid. As it had turned out I would, of course, have saved far more time by heading to this place from the outset. Now my entire day was wasted. I eventually returned to the hotel, collected the books and took them with the advert to Mojo’s bar. I had a few beers, I went back to the hotel and packed, ordered some food from room service, went to bed and watched a movie. I had just wasted an entire bloody week achieving almost next to nothing.