With Gin a distant memory now (this was ten minutes into the ferry journey), the holiday settled into a far more relaxed yet dramatically-uninteresting groove. I hear this is known as the ‘falling motion’.
Orange finally got his play on New Year’s Eve, no less, at a small techno bar where the tasteful tunes couldn’t hope to compete with the vile EDM being cranked out by the Green Mango Club opposite.
With his instinctual knack, he had earlier sniffed out a fellow DJ who had been happy indeed to invite Orange to share the limelight. I bought a Bin Laden rubber mask and danced with a woman with a Hitler mask on- I’d like to say there was a satirical message there but there wasn’t. I’d just bought the mask with the idea of wearing it to work one day on my return to Oman and thereby being instantly dismissed. In the event, I bottled out.
The other DJ’s girlfriend had taken mephedrone and insisted I chaperone her in her state.
“I get so hot and horny,” she purred in my ear. “You’re gonna have to keep me safe from all these guys.”
“I’m a guy too,” I said. “What makes you think I’m safe?”
“Ha! Get real, Rick!” She laughed. “You’re fat and in your forties!”
It stung but was undeniably true.
The night ended in the company of random Thai women as did the holiday some three days later.
Orange still had three weeks to go and so I bid him farewell and made my lonely way back to Muscat.
Ten days later, I got a Facebook message from Orange.
Mate call me its urgent
I got on Skype and rang through to his mobile.
“Fuck mate it’s all gone bonkers here,” he said when I got through. “Met up with Gin for Muay Thai training and getting fit and that.”
“How is Gin?” I said. “He got off the island okay I take it.”
“He has his ways and means,” said Orange.
“Is he still fucked up?” I asked.
“No, no, no, nothing like that,” said Orange, adding, “Well, yeah he’s completely fucked. We came to Bangkok five days ago and met his brother, D’Lost Knight. We’ve been on ice ever since and- mate, it’s great but I forgot it was my flight yesterday. Don’t suppose you could lend me five-hundred quid so I can get out of here?”
The way Orange told it, D’Lost Knight had taken them to the slums by the railway then to a tower block on the edge of Bangkok that was notorious for ice use. Gin had taken as much as is humanly possible and was picking up any and all crumbs he could find off the carpet.
They had then bought a glass pipe on Sukhumvit. These are perfectly legal to buy but totally illegal to actually own, so Gin had told Orange t hide it under his T-shirt. The Nigerians they had bought more off were convinced it was a handgun and were freaked out by the state they were both in.
They had visited Soi Nana also and witnessed a Dutch guy punching a ladyboy in the face, breaking his/her teeth. The ladyboy had called for reinforcements and the Dutch guy took out a veritable squadron of katoeys while they sat and watched, fucked up and laughing their heads off. In all the entertainment, Orange had totally forgotten to go to the airport.
The narrative now ends on a fairly unsatisfactory anticlimax whereby I lent Orange the money, solving his crisis and he paid me back straightaway. In fact, he didn’t have to pay for the flight at all. The Thai Airways staff took one look at the sketchy fuckerwith eyes like saucers, immediately decided they didn’t want him in the country and agreed to ship him out for 1000 Baht.
If there’s a moral to all this, I haven’t worked out what it is yet. If you can think of anything, please let me know.