A night in the life of a working girl

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Weird and wonderful things can happen when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.

Big D and I were walking around Patong’s red light district around midnight, enjoying the free visual entertainment provided by the working girls outside all the bars. Old Mate sitting alone on a bar stool called out to get our attention:

“You from Australia?”

“Sure are!”

“Thought I recognised the accent”.

We pulled up a chair and he ordered us some beers.

“On the house”, he said, “considering I own this place”.

Divorced, lonely and bored of Australia, Old Mate had recently moved to Phuket, Thailand and bought a bar. “Motivated by the lifestyle more than the money,” he said.

A group of working girls, dressed in tiny white skirts and knee-high boots sat at another table attracting the attention of men passing by. Old Mate called one over and introduced me:

“One of my girls. Country girl. From up north”. Her pretty face looked up at me and smiled politely. She told me her Thai name and flapped her arms up and down.

Old Mate explained:

“Bird. Her name means bird.”

Bird was gorgeous. Sweet and soft and shy.

Big D and I definitely didn’t come to Thailand for the sex, although many people do. Men of all ages from all parts of the world stagger up and down the streets of Patong every night, looking to select their fun for the evening.

Bird brought me a drink and we sat at the table playing a dice game and having a language-limited yet fun conversation about our lives. We found out we were both the same age, and coincidently were born only two days apart.

“I show you a photo of my son!”

Bird pulled out her mobile phone and showed me a picture of a small boy grinning at the camera.

A middle-aged man came up to the table and Bird’s face lit up when she saw him. She jumped up to give him a kiss.

“I have to go now, but I be back soon”.

I watched Bird and her customer as they disappeared into the crowd. I was overcome by a mixture of sadness and anger over her situation.

Old Mate leaned over and said:

“Great girl that one. Arrived here from up north only a few months ago. Great worker. Doesn’t actually belong to my bar - but I get a commission for every customer she meets here. And when the girls are here, more men come to the bar to drink. Win-win situation for me.”

“Do they get paid much?” I asked.

When Old Mate told me how much Bird earned per customer it made me feel ill. In my back pocket at the time I had more than double what she could make in a week. And I would easily spend the equivalent in Australia on a big night out. Thinking of her poor son, I decided I would give Bird some money when she came back and tell her to have the night off.

“So why does she do it?”

“For her family. From the money she earns, ninety percent gets sent back home. She lives off the other ten percent.”

I started to see the other side of the story and as more beers went down I changed my mind about giving Bird my money. My money could have been a bonus but it wasn’t going to make any difference in the long-run. And she probably wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

As hard as it must have been for that young girl, I now knew she was making the choice all for her son. Staying up north with her family may have been better off for her personally, but by moving to Patong to become a working girl meant her son would be able to have a good education and a bright future.

Bird soon returned fresh and as sweet as ever. Big D and I stayed at the bar for hours, talking and laughing with the girls between customers, and chatting to Old Mate while the girls were away.

When it was time to go, I gave Bird a hug and she giggled happily. On the way out I asked Old Mate to promise me he’d always look after his girls. He agreed, but I was doubtful my request would ever be remembered.

We returned to the peace and order of our hotel room, and collapsed into bed.

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"…You travel the world for the purpose of discovering that home is where you want to be…"

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