Ping pong in Bangkok

WARNING: this post contains references to female body parts.

When I think of Paris I think Eiffel tower, when I think of Egypt I think pyramids’ and when I think of Bangkok I think Ping pong shows. OK, so that’s not very cultural of me considering I’m supposedly a bit of a “traveller” and Bangkok is a cultural cauldron.  But temples and museums don’t interest me, like lady boys don’t interest straight men – unless you’re Eddie Murphy.


But I have learnt from past mistakes like when I went to Paris and didn’t visit the Eiffel tower – I blame that on Tim and all day happy hour. So I was not going to make the same mistake again. If I was in Bangkok I was going to a Ping Pong show.  Girlfriend Amanda was against the idea, “it’s degrading, and they don’t want to be doing it”. I totally agree with that, but I wanted to experience the sex tourism that is such a big draw card to Thailand for some people, like my Perth airport taxi driver that makes a yearly pilgrimage to Bangkok solely to have sex. I wanted to see the old men with petite young Thai girls showering him in false love and affection, I wanted to see the unenthusiastic dancers, the hookers, I wanted to be see the dark side of tourism, I wanted to be disappointed, I wanted to be disgusted.  


During the day we did the tourist things; getting photos in front of temples, cruising along the river, browsing random markets, wandering the streets of Bangkok. Which by the way, Bangkok has taken me by surprise, it could be any major city in the world when you are riding the sky train into the city, browsing the stalls at the MBK mega mall, walking around Siam Square downtown with the billboards – except the humidity and abundance of electrical wires still reminds you that you’re in Bangkok.


With darkness blanketing Bangkok, the red lights were starting to glimmer. After a few beers on Kao San road, we passed a row of tuk tuk drivers “hey mister, ping pong show”, it was as though they were telepathic, or maybe it was because this path was so well trodden by the plethora of previous back packers.


Next thing we know we were sitting in a rundown go go bar in the Patpong red light district, sipping on overpriced beers having all my expectations satisfied. There were the unenthusiastic topless dancers, the stereotypical gray haired “farang” (foreigner) exploring the bare skin of the young Thai girl on his lap and the token inquisitive couple (that was Mandy and I). My favourite stereotypical client was the young backpacker guy who was way more drunk than anyone else. The girls made the most of him, getting him up dancing; the funny bit was, he was totally oblivious to the excited state of his groin, like the cartoon character on the sex education videos whose pants resemble the big top of a circus tent, classic!

So the ping pong show. We had the warm up shows, the girl laying an egg out of her vagina, the lady shooting banana’s out of herself and lighting of birthday cake candles. My favourite, the lady smoking a cigarette with her vagina – it would be a great lung cancer campaign, “stop lung cancer, smoke vaginally!”. Ok, once again I digress, the ping pong show. They got the token drunk guy holding a ping pong bat to stand in front of the girl sprawled spread eagled on the stage who then shot balls from her vagina at him. That was it. My warped desires met.

Word of advice from a now experienced ping pong show goer. If a stray ping pong ball is flung your way, its not cool to pick it up as a souvenir, you’re better off buying one of those little Buddha figurines!