So I’m wanderin’ down Walking Street last night, mindin’ me own, lettin’ the neon batter me eyeballs like a tuk tuk with no brakes. Usual muppet circus. Russians practicin’ their power stares, Indians rehearsin’ their wedding dance steps, Germans pumped full of hormones, lads from Essex lookin’ at every bar like it’s a career opportunity. You know the scene.

 

Up ahead I clock this Indian geezer dressed like he's just robbed the Taj Mahal and givin’ it the big romance routine to a Thai girl who’s clearly not havin’ any of it. One look and I can tell she ain’t a freelancer. Nah, no nightclub glitter, no come hither grin, just a tired face, work apron pokin’ out her bag, and that polite panic smile Thai girls get when they’re two seconds from bolting. She ain’t tryin’ to pull. She’s tryin’ to escape.

 

The Bombay bampot leans in closer, loud voice, flappy hands, the whole performance. She tries to step round him and he shuffles to block her like some budget nightclub bodyguard. I’m watchin’, thinkin’ mate, this is the wrong sport. She ain’t playin’, yeah. 

 

Then she moves again and he lunges in front of her, and that’s when I drift over casual as anything. I step in front of him like I’m just passin’ through, put me foot out a touch, proper innocent, and the geezer goes right over it. Flat on his face. Sounded like someone dropped a ripe durian off a sixth floor balcony. Whole crowd stops. No one says a word. Just another Pattaya moment, plonker on the floor, future regrets settlin’ in.

 

He stays down makin’ wee groans, so I turns to the girl, ask if she’s alright. She gives me this soft wai like I just rescued her from a burning building instead of from just some mug with more one-week old cologne than common sense. Says thank you, asks if we can walk away before he gets his legs back. Fair point.

 

So we head toward Beach Road. Once we’re clear, she tells me she works at one of them seafood joints by the sand, was on her way home but she’s dreading it because her boyfriend’s been runnin’ round like a soi dog in mating season. Says she doesn’t want to deal with him tonight, doesn’t even want to go back. Then she looks up shyly and says she wants to buy me a drink to say thank you.

 

Next thing I know we’re sat at a quiet street bar with a couple of cold ones in a side soi, chattin’ easy as anything. Lovely girl, sweet heart, proper steady energy, none of that nightclub madness. And halfway through her second drink she drops the hint. Says she doesn’t want to go home. Says she’d rather stay with me tonight.

 

Now don’t get me wrong, mates, I’m tempted. I’m human, FFS. Woman like that lookin’ at you soft under the bar lights, that’ll melt your noodle. But I’m not new here. Thai lads can flip like a fried egg sometimes, sweet one minute, swingin’ with a heavy blunt object the next, especially if they reckon some foreigner’s been keepin’ their girl company. Last thing I need is some jealous fruit cake turnin’ up at me room with a bottle of lao khao, a machete and bravery in liquid form.

 

So I take a breath, smile, and let her down gentle. Tell her it’s better she stays at a friend’s place or finds a cheap room for the night. She looks disappointed for a blink, then gives me this grateful little smile that could calm a monsoon. Says I’m a good man. Then she disappears into the stream of people like she was never there.

 

I finish me drink, take a proper puff of me vape, and stroll off thinkin’ sometimes Pattaya hands you a wild night, and sometimes it hands you a choice. And every now and then, the move made with your bigger head is the right one.

This narrative embodies a troubling racial bias against people from India and serves to perpetuate harmful stereotypes. It dangerously romanticizes colonialism, disregarding the significant suffering it caused. We must critically examine such perspectives and their implications in order to foster understanding and promote equity.

15 minutes ago, nick supreme said:

This narrative embodies a troubling racial bias against people from India and serves to perpetuate harmful stereotypes. It dangerously romanticizes colonialism, disregarding the significant suffering it caused. We must critically examine such perspectives and their implications in order to foster understanding and promote equity.

They are the most disgusting people I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with.

 

52 minutes ago, Lewie London said:

Last thing I need is some jealous fruit cake turnin’ up at me room with a bottle of lao khao, a machete and bravery in liquid form.

 

Been there , done that. Oh OK then, sans parang.

Lewie, welcome back, and thanks for the delightful breakfast read!
I do look forward to them, a light-hearted way to begin my day!

Thanks again, and please keep them coming!

(And for those who love to hate, YES! We do know it's an AI creation, but they are fun to read! If you don't like them, please don't read them and then complain that they are AI.)

1 hour ago, nick supreme said:

This narrative embodies a troubling racial bias against people from India and serves to perpetuate harmful stereotypes. It dangerously romanticizes colonialism, disregarding the significant suffering it caused. We must critically examine such perspectives and their implications in order to foster understanding and promote equity.

 

California dreaming ....................

1 hour ago, Slowhand225 said:

They are the most disgusting people I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with.

 

 

So, no hands-on experience dealing with Americans then?

 

Thought so.

1 hour ago, FolkGuitar said:

Lewie, welcome back, and thanks for the delightful breakfast read!
I do look forward to them, a light-hearted way to begin my day!

Thanks again, and please keep them coming!

(And for those who love to hate, YES! We do know it's an AI creation, but they are fun to read! If you don't like them, please don't read them and then complain that they are AI.)

More importantly, what was your tea of choice this morning whilst browsing Lewie's latest tale? This information is as crucial as Lewie's tale itself. I do know you are a bit of a tea aficionado. Mine was nothing more exotic than a mug of strong PG Tips, splash of milk, no sugar. 

The geezer speak is now completely impenetrable. It’s like trying to watch Trainspotting without subtitles.