The two gaily
decorated cakes--one vanilla, one chocolate—were carefully laid on a low table
in front of the dance stage at a small but popular club on a soi not far
from the center of Patpong. A “tablecloth” fashioned from the two pastry
boxes kept the sweets off the Formica surface, thereby preventing the
cockroaches from a late meal. Someone,
we don’t know who, had gone out and acquired a box of birthday candles—an
item the two Farang had forgotten. W.
dimmed the lights and with a lighter borrowed from A., we lit the candles.
When the raging air conditioning extinguished several, P. jumped up from
his comfortable position with “David” and moved the table out of the draft.
Candles lit, J. and S. in front of the cakes as birthday boys, everyone
sang Happy Birthday in English. After applause, the cakes were cut and
distributed on paper plates to the 15 or so young men present.
I had been planning a special birthday present for J. for some time. His
birthday was in early April and I knew that I couldn’t attend that night. When
we found out that S’s birthday was the previous Saturday, it was a
natural—party for two.
“David”, “Ted” and myself arrived about 7 p.m. and paraded the
cakes to the bar. I explained to the Grinch-like manager and son of the owner,
what we were doing and he, thankfully, disappeared for the event. No rain on the
parade. The cakes sat on the bar
for a while, as we enjoyed drinks and conversation with the boys. Each of us was
surrounded by a bevy of favorite friends. Finally, David and I opened the boxes
and that seemed to start everything going. The boys took over. The cakes sat
again, displayed on the low table, for sometime, but I said nothing. Mexico is
the same way. Nothing is said to you, but there is a reason why little seems to
be happening. In this case, it was the acquisition of the candles.
Timing was great and the cake was eaten and disposed of before 8
o’clock and dance time. The boss did not come in and order the boys to start
dancing and no other Farang came in. It didn’t get any better than that—3
friendly Farang, each surrounded by a bunch of boys.
S. is a very outgoing boy. He has a good personality, long beautiful
hair, but tattoos are scattered about his slender arms and legs. We rarely see
him with a customer. He was excited and bouncing around, grinning ear to ear.
More than once, I saw him thank David profusely. When he danced that night, he
danced with more vigor than usual. Clearly, a good night for him. It was,
likewise, a special night for all the boys. I think they all felt validated as
human beings, not just beautiful willing bodies, for a brief time.
I was sitting with A. and Jack. B. was not there yet—it was early—so
this worked out fine. At one point, T.—a short, athletic 15-year old—came up
behind me and rubbed my shoulders. I groaned in pleasure and leaned forward a
bit.
“You like massage?” he asked. I nodded. “OK, I give you a
massage.” He proceeded as promised and it was energetic.
A. has a great sense of humor, and a sharp wit. He looked up at T. and said in English, “Good, then you massage me. After, I want you to ‘smoke’ me, too."
A. was really tired and soon was asleep, hand on my thigh and my arm
around him. J. was perched on the settee arm on my right, sharing his cake with
me. Then he snuggled. He rarely shows emotion and would be a good poker player
on a Mississippi showboat. Like A., when he does show those occasional boyish
smiles, the room lights up. He leaned
over to me and whispered in English, “Thank you.” I could have wept.
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Last updated April 22, 2000.