Disclaimer: Parts of this post are racist. Parts of this post won’t pass the PG Guidelines. Parts of this post will offend the half-wits.
Since you are not a half-wit and are okay with the rest, you can continue reading.
Considering I’ve been barely regular to work since Day 2, I naturally didn’t expect to last this long at the company. I keep waiting to hear the words, ‘This is not what we signed up for’, and I’d say, ‘Tell me about it.’ And that would be that.
So when they said we are all going to Thailand to celebrate our first anniversary, I wasn’t sure I was going even though they hadn’t given me the pink slip. RA was back in action and how! When the doctor upped the medication and said, ‘Sure, go travel. But keep up with your diet as that seems to be working’, I had no choice but to go.
I’ve never been on a less researched trip in my life. Ever. But for Phuket (I like saying Fuck It), I couldn’t do that because every travel guide online kept touting it as the best honeymoon destination ever. So I promptly shut down the sites and went to sleep. I’ve just figured out that sleeping is one way to get rid of the pain RA flare-ups cause.
So when we reached Bangkok and were waiting to board the plane to Phuket, I didn’t know what Baht was. Till I figured it was Thai currency by being the absolutely clever person I am.
I was also already tired and bored. Going on a tour with colleagues when you still haven’t reached the ‘friend’ stage with them is a bit of a pain. You feel like a hanger-on and what not and they are totally disconcerted every time you open your mouth and add to the conversation. So you just resort to staying quiet and laughing at all the right spots and feel even more of a hanger-on and a bit of a phony. That doesn’t help much in forging life-long friendships.
I’m not regular at work; I mostly work from home and this on the days that I have been less ill. So a lot of people know me only through mails and they have their own cliques. Then most of them love gaming and I still don’t. I have reached the ‘tolerate’ level but I doubt I will ever be ‘passionate’ about it.
It also doesn’t really help that most of my colleagues think I am either bi or a lesbian or just about anything because I keep razzing them about their homophobia. Total drag. Pun unintended.
And few I’m not sure I like because they talk too much and act all-knowing and motor-mouthy and hardly ever let the others speak. And then I sulk that I’m no longer a trainer or the person I used to be and so I can’t put them in their place. And then I realise I am no longer the person I used to be and now I actually no longer care about such people because I have more things on my plate to worry about and that just depresses me. And then it’s all boring and tiring.
So I happily ODed on my sleep medication and slept right through most of the journey, including the drive from the Phuket airport to the hotel. I usually don’t do that. I’m all eager and waiting to drink in all the new experiences a new place throws my way. But this was Phuket, so I said, “Ah fuck it’ and slept right on.
We stayed at Marriott Courtyard on Patong beach and I’d recommend it to everyone. I fortunately didn’t have to share rooms with anyone, a thing I’m being all particular about now that I’m no longer scared to sleep alone. And what a room! It was love at first sight. The décor was purple, white, cream, and sunset yellow. Happy. Happy.
We were asked to freshen up and meet at the restaurant for lunch. I had a quick shower (by my standards) and hurried down to lunch where I met a colleague (not from India, so he hadn’t formed an opinion about me yet) who told me about his massage. It was his first, apparently. So I initiated him into the massage rating system. Painful, Bad, Good, Very Good, Orgasmic. He was amused and he said he’d rate it a Very Good. That was good enough for me. Lunch done, I went and booked myself into the hotel spa.
A quick session of phone calls and Facebook updates later, I was all set for my spa experience. Rainbow (that’s what her Thai name means) was my girl. And I swear she showed me slices of heaven. I like massages that are soft and feather-light – not too much kneading and pressure. She didn’t listen to me. But she knew exactly where to put more pressure so I purred like a kitten with every new touch.
Thai massages are the only way to go. It was totally orgasmic and simply the best I’ve had.
This immediately made me feel all fun and funky (also it had eased all the RA pain) and I set out to the beach. The only place twilight is bearable is at a beach. Otherwise I simply loathe twilight. It’s a really stupid time of the day. Fuck it looked beautiful.
And I had the strongest urge to smoke. So I said ‘Fuck, the diet’, and bought myself some cigarettes. And explored the town on my own. It’s nice to do that. I’ve also realised I’m splendid company. I was just planning on going out for dinner when I saw a lost-looking colleague. We had never been introduced. But I was on massage high, so I went up to him and invited him to dinner. A fruits only place I had discovered on my exploration had shut by then. And the fool of an ass owner told me, ‘I give tomorrow fruits.’ I said, ‘That be too late for me.’ And we walked on. We had dinner at a place called Ali Baba. Fruits on ice for me and some chappattis and vegetable curry for my guest. Because wouldn’t you know it, Ali Baba is an Indian restaurant.
We were walking back to the hotel when we almost won ourselves free tickets to a show. We had to return them when the man giving them out realised we weren’t married. He looked so disappointed it was laughable. And I didn’t think it wise to tell him or my nameless colleague that I was a practicing polyandryist. A good call.
See this is the thing with dating random people. By the time you settle in and everything, it’s just too awkward and too late to ask them for their name. It’s a thousand times worse when they know yours already! What do you do?
And that’s when we bumped into Roy, a colleague I did know who promised to take me to the Go Go dancers. So we set off. Only I didn’t know I was getting conned. Roy decided that he had to check in on the World Cup – India and Sri Lanka, was it? Yes, India and Sri Lanka match. So we sat there for some ten minutes and watched a match with half a dozen of my male colleagues trying to convert me into a fan by explaining cricket to me. I just ignored them and bitched about Rubbish Roy who turned out to be a con job. I don’t know if it was my incessant chatter or the fact that Sachin Tendulkar chose that moment to get out, but Roy finally said let’s go see the dancers and we set off. My blind date decided to stay back so I bid him good night.
Now here’s a tip: Wear comfortable footwear (not shoes, you will sweat like a pig) if you visit Thailand.
I had my Osho chappals on and still it felt like a forever trek. It didn’t help that Roy kept saying just the next block. And I’m sure we’d done a good 15 blocks by then. But see that is the miracle called Thai massage; I was able to walk so far and so long with minimum discomfort. We reached the street. And it was fabulous. I couldn’t believe that men from my office were content watching the match when they had that to watch. Proves my theory that most Indian men are rubbish. A tout caught us and said, ‘Best Go Go dancing, come, come. You like.’ So we said why not and followed him. He took us to a side-lane and then up a flight of seedy stairs and there we were – in my first strip club. The girl did wear Go Go boots but there the resemblance stopped. The moment she saw us she flung her panty and bra in wild abandon. I didn’t even raise my eyebrows. And Roy is such a funky man, he wasn’t embarrassed either. We looked at each other. We decided we didn’t really want to stay. And then the lady of the house came to us. ‘Five minutes, you stay. You see. Five minutes.’ I said, ‘What’s going to happen on her body in five minutes that I haven’t already seen? Thank you, but really, we are off.’
Dashed disappointing. Why are strippers in such a hurry to strip? I thought the idea was to gyrate, build suspense, and create hype and all that. No?
We lingered on the street a while and I cursed the stupid diet that wouldn’t allow me to drink. I’d broken the smoke rule; I didn’t want to break the alcohol one as well. So finally we decided to walk back. And Roy tried to get a foot massage. But Roy was really terrified about some of the seedier foot massage places. He was quite sure that they’d massage you till you ended up happy and spent. And that’s when we bumped into another group of colleagues who were also looking for a foot massage. We finally found one with glass doors that faced the road. And finally the men were comfortable enough to go in. Thinking getting a massage again within three hours since the last one was a bit decadent even for me, I bid them bye and continued walking.
My hotel had a Hard Rock Café on the premises. So I decided to check it out for myself. A more sad HRC I haven’t seen. They were playing some obscure music with a man wailing about lost love. And I said, ‘fuck it, I’m not doing this’ and went up to my room where I had P G Wodehouse for company.
A story of Ukridge later, I was ravenous. Readers, I dug into fish and chips (okay only the chips, the fish was surprisingly lousy) and tiramisu and broke my diet.
And finally I fell asleep, guilty as hell and satiated like the dickens. Kind of like having an extra-marital affair.