Short skirts revealing dark, slender legs.
Long black hair, flowing freely or tied back in pony tails, high or low.
Wafts of cheap perfume, intermingled.
Greetings of “Sawasdee Ka” or “Hullooooo” accompanied by friendly smiles on cherry red lips.
Some sit, some stand, some dance, hips swaying side to side
Tables decorated with bottles of Sangsom and beer, half empty, half full.
Neon lights highlight different names but the bars are all the same
As is the music that plays night after night….
"You can stand under my um-b-rella, ella, ella, eh, eh”
“Zo-om-bie, Zo-om-bie, Zo-om-bie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie”
“I wanna make up right now, na, na. Wish we never broke up right now, na, na”
Bar stools occupied by mainly greying, beer-bellied western men
Not a female farang in sight.
Drunken games of charades, help to bridge communication gaps
Others use a hand on the thigh or small of the back to say what needs to be said.
Passing tuk-tuks carrying more than one male elicit banshee-like screeches.
I’m stuck on the same scene.
In my neighbourhood, every night is a party and love is always for sale.