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Upon reaching Bangkok, I made a new goal for myself, to get invited into an Opium Den and play poker with some old Thai gangsters. Why would I want to do this? Why wouldn’t I want to do this is the better question.
I’d be taking a stroll down the Ko San Road, minding my own business, possibly with my head phones in, quietly bumping along to some King’s of Leon or maybe even The Killers when I’d be approached by a Tuk Tuk driver that has spotted the glimmer in my eyes that is craving something a little more dangerous than what’s available to most travelers. He’d be a younger driver, maybe twenty seven or less, too young to have already succumbed to the monotonous life of ripping off tourists everyday while he silently dreams of being a stage actor. “America Number One” he’d say after learning I’m not Canadian or English or Australian. He’d love Americans because one of his sisters once went to Los Angeles and had seen Julia Roberts at a Coffee Bean and she’d smiled at her and his sister had convinced him that all Americans are as gracious and beautiful as the actress. My invite would come from a Tuk Tuk driver who secretly desired to become a Los Angeles actor though his English was limited to short catchy phrases he’d learned while driving his tuk tuk.
Before I would know it, I’d be getting fitted for a silk suit I’d be wearing in an hour into the back room of the second floor of a Bodega Thai Restaurant that served poorly prepared local cuisine, if you could even call it that, to the random backpackers seeking something off the beaten path where they could then return home claiming to have found the best Pad Thai in Bangkok. Behind the nearly see through but only loosely transparent Dragon partition that separated a section of tables, all of which were empty, I’d be led into a room filled with scantily clad Thai girls, even scandalous for Thailand, who’d be lounging around on red velvet couches, staring lazily at the hookahs before them until the moment I’d arrive.
Immediately I’d incur the wrathful look of every man in the room, all five of them, though I’d done nothing to them aside from grace them with my presence, as the girls all would abandon their sugar daddies and approach the intriguingly well dressed westerner. Of course I’d brush them off without so much as a glance only to make them love to hate me and return to their previously occupied places of designated female affection for their chosen gangster. There’d be no time for the nonsense of long time love when there would shortly be gambling at hand, high stakes gambling, the kind that could get you into serious trouble if you didn’t play your cards right, pun intended.
My tuk tuk driver, Sam, he called himself, though I’d be pretty sure his real name contained no aspect of the pronunciation of the name Sam and he’d have chosen it as his potential Hollywood screen name, slowly would creep into the room despite his apparent apprehension on the street when we arrived. An old hunched over Thai grandmother with horrible breath and a cane would have shown me the way from the street would leave me at this point after directing my attention towards the octagonal card table just visible through all the smoke filled room in the back left corner.
My brand new grey stripped silk suit would look good, almost too good and too classy for the types of low class tricks these men would attempt to cheat me with. I’d know they were all working together with a marked deck or maybe some predetermined hand signals that they’d used hundreds of times before whenever another smooth talking, slick walking, white guy came into their den to try take their cash. I’d know their racket and maybe even expect it but I’d be lucky. I’d be luckier than I’d ever been in my life, so lucky that despite their trickery I’d hold the heavy stack for more than an hour as each one of them slowly became more and more agitated. I’d see a man reach into his back pocket to buy back into the game to reveal a shiny silver pistol in a shoulder holster underneath his suit jacket. I wouldn’t know what kind of gun it would be because I’d have never seen a gun that close before in my life, but I wouldn’t be scared, I’d be a cool customer, slowly taking the remainder of their dignity one by one by one.
The pot size would climb and the sweat would slowly drip from the backs of our necks as each and every one of us were either out of money or completely committed to the biggest pot of the night. I’d bluff, I’d have no choice but to bluff because I’d have been so lucky all night and they’d expect nothing but a flush or a straight or a full house every time I played a hand. I’d have a pair of Kings or tens, nothing worth betting the ridiculous money I’d have already bet, but a pair good enough to beat most other pairs. The staredown would be intense and two of the Thai men would throw down their cards in disgust and storm away from the table only to return seconds later to see who would win the battle of wills.
I’d smile a sly, coy smile so not to piss off my conquest though that’d be impossible as I lay my higher pair of tens on top of his lowly pair of sevens. He’d look calm and calculated as he processed the amount of money he had just lost to a pair of tens and as I’d reach for the pot his hand would reveal a serpent handled dagger cutting through the air on its way towards my hand just slower than my cat-like reflexes, impaling a stack of fifty thousand baht chips.
Before I could react any more, I’d be hit across the face by one of the recently ousted members of the game that would knock me backwards and onto the floor just after my legs would kick up the table, scattering chips, breaking glasses and leaving the entire pile of thousands of colorful baht notes floating in the air like feathers falling to the ground. As I would try to shake the stars from my eyes, Sam, my once timid tuk tuk driver suddenly became the incarnate of Bruce Lee, exposing an angry and violent side to him that broke bones with kicks and split flesh with punches. More men that were not previously in the room would join the ruckus and Sam would beat them back, sometimes through windows and wooden banisters that separated something from something else.
I’d stand up and stand back out of Sam’s way, not wanting to receive an errant kick to the face as he’d closely resemblt the Tasmanian devil, raising up dust and hurting anything that fell within the six foot territorial bubble that surrounded him. He’d kick some undistinguished henchman into me and I’d quickly split a half empty bottle of sake over his head. I’d toss the neck of the clear bottle that remained unbroken in my hand and slowly wipe my brow revealing a token spot of blood on the underside of my wrist, enraging me to the point that I’d sucker punch at least two guys that were no longer concerned with me, their initial target, and instead waited for their turn to get punished by Sam.
When Sam’s fists of fury finally ceased, I’d grab for his shoulder and whatever money would be lying around in a winded voice suggest that it would probably be just time for our departure. We would slowly back out of the room, around the dragon partition that was nothing but a frame with a broken body folded over its interior, past the incensed old lady with the bad breath who’d be shaking her shriveled little finger at the both of us, yelling something in Thai that made Sam only laugh. We would leave the restaurant on foot as Sam would have parked his tuk tuk around the corner, as if he’d sensed that there would be trouble and a fast getaway would be necessary.
I wouldn’t need to thank Sam for coming to my aid as his now swelling lips would be carved into a great smile the entire way back to the Ko San Road. Sam would drop me off and shake my hand and pretend as if we’d been best friends for the past thirty years who had just met up after a long absence only to have one of our greatest adventures to date. He’d drive away into the careless traffic that dominates Bangkok as I count the amount of cash I was able to salvage from the previous hour’s debacle. I’d have roughly the same amount of cash I’d started the night with minus the amount of money I’d spent on the suit, though the suit would now have a place of honor and fame inside my closet.
I’d sit down at a table in a bar that overlooked the circus of travelers mulling about like cattle and order myself a Singha and wonder how much of an amazing experience all of that would have been. I’d finish my Singha, buy myself a Kung Fu DVD and return to my small guesthouse, remove my dirty, sweaty tee shirt and bootleg boardshorts and fall asleep, thinking about how all I wanted from Bangkok was an adventure but never got the opportunity because I’d never received that invite. I’d doze off thinking about the reality of what could have been if only I’d met a tuk tuk driver named Sam. I’d smile. I’d sleep
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Kevin (Uncle Remus)
non-member comment
Vicarious experiences
When I was your age, everyone was trying to stay the hell out of SE Asia - who would have thought.... These are awesome stories and I've looked forward to the next for a while. You should think about getting them published when you get back. It goes without saying that I'd like the expanded version over many beers, preferably in between dives, Nephew-san.