Ping Pong

"Sir, where you from?"
"Far away"
"Ah, America?"
"Canada"
"Oh."
"Sir. You want tuk-tuk. Go for bang bang?"

He holds up a small business card with a picute of a row of women, barechested. These kind of guys are everywhere. The lady middle men. They are everywhere us white folks roam.

"Mmm, no thanks."
"I take you to show. You like ping pong show?"
"Mmm, no thanks."
"I take you there."
"Oh I am sure you will."
"I find you pretty lady."
"Mmm, I'll pass."
"What about a suit? Nice tailor."
"No."

I move on down the street, into the night market madness. I hear behind me, speaking to someone else:

"Sir, you want bang bang?"

Ah, Thailand.