Soy Cowboy?

Fleas and Dogs on the road. Thailand.

Taxi Driver: You like show-ping?

Me: No, no. I don’t like shopping. Don’t take me to a shopping street.

Taxi Driver: I take you good show-ping.

Me (miming the trembling half moon in front of my mouth): No! I like drinking, I don’t like shopping! Take me to good bar.

Taxi Driver: He! He! I Thai, I no show-ping. You show-ping! He! He!

We pull up at the entrance of a street. Neon lights spill out across the tarmac. Women in over the knee patent leather boots and hot pants sit out on stools or dance with passers by.

A British man weaves his way unsteadily out of the street. He has the heavy lidded half-smile of the happy drunk. Around his neck hang a tangle of ropes and a gimp ball-gag. He bumps into the cop standing at the entrance before stumbling out into the night.

Me: Ohh!

Taxi driver: He! He! He!

 

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