Beyond
the Expat version of the Bangkok Night, throughout this vast swirling
metropolis of uncounted millions, are an almost infinite number of other
versions. Thai coffee shops, lady barber
shops, massages places from tiny holes in the wall to palatial structures with
five hundred rooms, as large and luxurious as a major hotel, beauty salons,
spas, snooker rooms, restaurants with special menus, telephone and internet
escort services, beer gardens, giant discos, intimate member clubs, hostess
bars, short-time hotels, drive-in curtain hotels, Isan music halls and numerous
other venues visible and invisible, with and without names and constantly being
re-invented, mainly for Thais, both ladies and men.
As
large and varied as the Expat version of the Bangkok Night might be, it is only
one world of many, less than ten percent of what is there. The Japanese version has signs only in
Japanese and sometimes no signs at all.
The Arab version is rough and full of shame. The Indian version submerged, hidden and
silent. The Chinese version, mainly in
Bangkok’s Chinatown, beyond the knowledge of even the Bangkok police and
populated with Chinese from every country in Asia and every province in
China. For the Nigerians, another
version known only to them.
And
then there are the various gay, lesbian and ladyboy versions, some small and
dark, others as glitzy as Las Vegas. All
of these worlds make up the universe of the Bangkok Night, one of the largest
shows presently on earth and ever invented, an entertainment venue on a scale
never before equaled in the history of mankind.
Whatever
one might think and however one might judge, what’s there reflects the full
range of mankind’s wishes and desires, weakness and strength, dreams and
nightmares. It is a spectacle invented
in the human imagination and staged night after night, week after week, year
after year, for an audience of millions.
To pretend it’s not there or that it shouldn’t exist is to overlook an
essential element of the human spirit and struggle that reveals who we really are,
down deep, not just who we pretend to be.
It
is a universe full of clashing colors, dramatic contrasts, jagged lines,
extremes of behavior and personality, mankind tilted on a primitive edge. If the Fauvists or Expressionists were
re-incarnated and alive today, the Bangkok Night is where they would be,
watching, absorbing and painting.
