CHAPTER 11
2115 hours, 17 January
Patpong Road, Bangkok
Liberty in Bangkok was proving to be memorable, but not at all what
David Howard had expected. It had started on the mike boat, when
Bentley, Paterowski and Rodriguez had closed in on him like predators,
escorting him ashore, standing in line with him waiting for the bus,
then regaling him with improbable stories of sexual athletics for almost
two hours as the ancient vehicle rattled its way up Route 3 into
Bangkok.
They’d spent an hour simply wandering the streets, gawking at the sights
and discussing what to do next. Bentley was in favor of visiting a bar
he’d heard about in Klong Toey, an idea that terrified Howard since the
waterfront district was strictly off-limits to American military
personnel. The others preferred a trip to the infamous Patpong Road
which they’d heard so much about from Bentley. Howard wasn’t much
happier with that idea, but he didn’t want to be the one to argue about
it.
Patpong won out in the end. Patpong Road had been pretty much like
Bentley had said it would be, a glittering, tawdry, neon-bright strip of
bars, nightclubs, sex theaters and cheap-looking hotels. The
villainous-looking taxi driver dropped them off beneath a towering,
red-lit sign flashing five repetitions of the word “topless.” A sign
across the street proclaimed the most sensual massage in Bangkok.
Nightclubs abounded, and bars were everywhere, each with its own
gimmick: nude dancers, dart contests, old movies, and special shows that
promised “Sex! Live Girls! On Stage!”
According to Bentley, Patpong was just another street by day, but at
night it became the sex and sin center of the city. Traffic crowded the
narrow road, mingling freely with bands of laughing, jostling That men
and small groups of foreigners. The street smelled, a mixture of spice,
garbage and raw sewage. Howie fought to control his stomach. He didn’t
belong here, and he felt out of place and embarrassed.
They had dinner first at a Japanese restaurant called Mizu’s Kitchen,
then spent another hour roaming the street before choosing a bar called
the Golden Coast. It was dark inside, and crowded. The very air
throbbed to the beat of hard rock. They were met as soon as they
stepped inside by four dazzling That girls, each wearing high heels and
three wisps of golden silk and string which with considerable generosity
might have been called bikinis.
There were numbers on small badges pinned to their bras. Paterowski
explained to Howie with a wink and an elbow nudge that the numbers
allowed the bar’s patrons to ask for a particular girl, just in case
there was further business they wanted to transact with her later.
There seemed to be a scantily clad, numbered girl for every male in the
bar, drinking with the customers, laughing and talking. Howie’s girl
wore the number 21. She had a sweet smile, and Howie thought she was
the prettiest girl he’d ever seen except, possibly, for Charlene back
home.
But Charlene had never worn a bathing suit like that. When Number 21
turned around to lead the way to a table, it looked like she was wearing
nothing but a couple of pieces of gold string, and Howard didn’t know
how to react to the sight of her bare buttocks. How did you talk to a
girl who walked around like that in public? He felt a fiery,
stiffening urgency in his loins he’d not known since Charlene had let
him kiss her in her father’s car, and was immediately ashamed of the
comparison.
“C’mon, guys and gals!” Bentley cried, sitting down at the table.
“What’ll it be?”
They ordered something fiery and potent the English-speaking bartender
called Mekong Wine and Bentley called “Patpong panther piss.” Howie’s
head was swimming after the first couple of sips, though whether that
was from the drink, excitement, or fear he couldn’t tell.
“Boy oh boy,” Paterowski said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his
hands together. He was looking toward a brightly-lit stage at the back
of the room. “Get a load of that!”
If Howard was surprised by the brief attire of the hostesses, the floor
show nearly finished him. The girl was stark naked, dancing with