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Throw your hands together like you just don't care

for the one and only

Udom Taephanich.

Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

Okay, thank you very much. Thank you.

If you're happy and you know it Clap your hands

When someone walks onto a stage

and people scream and clap,

that person must be pretty famous.

So I know I'm famous.

To tell you the truth, I know I'm famous. I'm kind of popular.

But if you asked me to put a number to it? I'd have no idea.

I don't know because there are no measurements for fame

in the same way decibels measure sound.

I can't know how famous I am.

Celebrities, actors, and singers know when they step outside,

and people ask them for photos and autographs.

They know they're famous, but they don't know how much.

I realized how famous I am

when Vinij Lertratanachai

called to invite me to play soccer.

You know him, right?

He organized Liverpool vs. Man United. Okay.

This was the sixth time he'd called.

I said I couldn't go

because he was all the way in Bang Pa-In, and I was in Bang Kapi.

It's a long drive.

By the time I played and made it back, it would've been late.

I told him, "I'm busy."

"My knees hurt. I just had surgery."

"I haven't played since my time as a monk."

But he called again one night, for the sixth time.

"Let's go play football."

As usual, I made an excuse.

"I'm drawing right now. I don't have time."

"Come. You won't regret it. Tomorrow at four."

"Who's playing? I don't want to go. I don't even have shoes."

"Jackson Wang."

"Playing with Jackson Wang? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, he's in the country. He likes to play when he has time off."

"He's really coming?"

At that point, I'd have gone to Betong.

It's Jackson Wang, damn it!

You guys would have to buy a ticket,

an expensive one, and go even farther away to see him.

My niece Ratsamee is a die-hard fan.

She's paid thousands to see him way out there like a little dot,

while I had the chance to play on the same team as him.

So I went.

Early the next morning, I went and bought shoes,

and then he told me it was super VIP.

It's an exclusive group.

I felt special, you know? So I planned to drive myself.

But my niece Ratsamee

did her hair before dawn.

She showed up all dressed up. "Oh, please, can I come with you. Please?"

"No, it's a private game."

"Please. I just wanna see Jackson Wang."

"When I saw him before, he was so far away."

I said, "I don't know how close you'll get."

"His bodyguards are tough."

You've heard about them, right?

"Please? I'll watch from outside the fence. Please."

So I had her drive.

When we got there,

the field was at RCA.

There were tons of bodyguards, like the news had gotten out.

Hundreds of fans were waiting outside the fence

to catch a glimpse of Jackson Wang.

I was thinking

it would be cruel to leave her outside,

so I said, "Ratsamee, I'll get you in."

It was supposed to just be me.

She asked, "How do we do it?"

"If they ask, say you're my masseuse."

"But I don't know how to give massages."

"Well, you're gonna need to."

"If you're lucky, Jackson might get a cramp,

and you can give him an inguinal massage."

Suddenly, she was motivated to go in.

A guard asked who I was. "Ah, you're Nose. Who's that?"

"This is my masseuse."

"Head over there to the VIP zone."

We parked in the VIP zone.

I said, "Carry my stuff. My shoes too. That way you'll look like my masseuse."

We walked about 15 meters

to this gym with glass walls, like this room. We went in.

Jackson Wang was right there doing Muay Thai dance with Tony Jaa.

Have you seen the TikTok clip? They're dancing, and he turns to me.

Then Tony Jaa takes me to show me around.

My niece was too close. She'd never imagined!

Normally, she'd be told, "Go over there. Get out."

"Back off. You're not VIP."

But now it was, "Come on. Come with us."

Jackson Wang was standing right there.

And she…

I told her, "Take a photo. Use your phone."

"Uncle,

my hands are weak."

I've never seen someone get weak hands.

"My hands are weak."

"They can't be weak now. This is your chance."

"He's…"

"Oh, wow."

"Go ahead. Get the picture."

"I don't wanna bother him."

"This is not the time."

Finally,

he finished dancing with Tony Jaa, and we were taken to get changed.

I followed Jackson Wang into the locker room

where there were these models and actors

of the new generation.

From what I remember, Golf Pichaya was there.

And Kem Hussawee.

They were all at least 175 centimeters tall with fair skin.

And they were changing their shirts. There were so many.

Oat Pramote recognized me. "Nose, hi."

I greeted him and went to sit with them.

There were benches and jerseys. Socks had been laid out.

I pulled out my shoes, then put on a black kit

because Jackson Wang was on the black team. So I put that on.

Then Oat said to me, "You're on the other team."

"What? I'm not… I didn't realize."

"That's your team."

Guess who was on the other team. Vinij Lertratanachai.

Vinij introduced me to another guy. "This is the Nepalese ambassador."

The Nepalese ambassador. Super old guy.

"And the one next to him is the nephew of the king of Bhutan."

The nephew of King Jigme. I didn't know how to act.

There's Jackson Wang. Here's King Jigme's nephew.

Should I bow? What should I do when I pass him the ball?

"Your Highness, please take the free kick"?

I didn't know how to act.

And I didn't want to be on that team.

I'd come to play with Jackson Wang.

I wanted to pass to him. You feel me? Brush up with him. Talk.

Be a team. Put our hands together before we compete.

It would've been an honor. But damn it.

I was on the old guy team.

And you know where? I was a striker.

A striker's job is to score goals.

Jackson Wang was a striker for the black team.

We were so far apart.

The whole game, we only saw each other from afar.

I hadn't played in so long.

I got cramps after five minutes.

It was 4:00 p.m. and so hot. Damn.

I was struggling, but the fans in the stadium,

excluding the ones outside…

There were about 100 fans in the VIP zone.

They came with the Thai actors, like the managers of the actors,

and the managers of the foreign team.

About a hundred of them.

They were next to the pitch, behind a row of bushes.

They couldn't cross the white line.

They're on the outside with cameras and lenses.

A herd of them.

I played for five minutes, then asked to sub.

I couldn't do it. I didn't care anymore because I couldn't see him.

I wanted to leave.

But the old guy team didn't have any subs.

I was just walking around. I couldn't focus on the game.

I wanted an umbrella.

What the fuck was I doing there?

The game wasn't broadcasted.

If there were TV cameras, I'd have been like…

But no one saw. I looked terrible.

In the end, I couldn't take it. I had to go out. I was so hot.

There weren't trees by the pitch, so I had to…

There was a gymnasium. I stood in its shade.

That's when I realized how famous I was.

Fans were standing by the bushes to watch Jackson Wang,

and they turned to look at me standing about ten meters away.

I walked from the pitch to the bushes.

"Hey."

"Hey, you. Hey."

"That's Nose. It's Nose! Let's take a picture with him."

Two or three of them came over. "Do you want a picture with him?"

Someone yelled,

"Yeah, sure."

That's how famous I am.

"Yeah, sure" level famous.

Oh, man.

It was like a knife

had been driven into my heart.

I was already looking rough in football shorts

with my bowed legs and dark, splotchy skin.

Then…

"Yeah, sure," and they came and took photos.

They took them to kill time.

When the game was over, they took us

back to the locker room to shower.

I was one of the first to leave the pitch. Jackson Wang and his team were behind me.

They were all so good-looking.

I wasn't brave enough to join them.

I walked ahead of them.

I remember this clearly.

Three people in dark-colored shirts

came up to me.

"Nose?"

They were my age, like we had grown up together.

Like they've been to my early shows.

"Could we please get a picture?"

Oh, man. I was so happy someone wanted a photo.

I told them, "Wait a second. I have to pee."

I couldn't hold it anymore.

"I'm going to run to the restroom. I'll be right back."

So I went to take a leak.

I went in.

Jackson Wang and his team were there.

They were changing.

If I went out for photos, I'd miss Jackson Wang topless.

If it were you in that room

with a topless Jackson Wang, would you leave?

I wanted to stay and see.

They were all changing.

They all had six packs, of course. But their auras. Their glow.

I've seen people with fair skin, but glowing skin like this

you don't see often.

I feel like Jackson Wang must eat neon lights for dinner.

He just had something about him.

The players and the old guys were changing and showering.

I was loitering in front of Jackson Wang's stall,

just hoping to get a glimpse of him.

For real. So I would have a story to tell my grandkids.

Okay, let's say I did my business.

I finished up and left, as promised,

because I'm a grown-up. I keep my word.

I went outside,

and there were a hundred people waiting out front

for Jackson Wang to shower.

I…

came out.

The bodyguards came up to me.

"Nose, who are you looking for?"

"Yeah, about three people my age."

"They wanted a picture, but I was in the restroom for a while."

"You're looking for three people?" He whispered into his collar.

Why do these bodyguards love talking into their collars?

Some people were talking into their sleeves.

"Don't worry. I'll find them."

"Who wanted a photo with Nose?"

And you know what?

It was silent.

Completely.

I pulled on his shirt.

"Damn it."

"Don't do this, shithead. It's…"

"I have nowhere to hide, fucker."

When he realized I was embarrassed,

he doubled down hard.

"Hey, everyone!"

Oh, shit.

"Who wants a photo with Nose?"

Silence.

It happened in front of everyone. It was so embarrassing.

Silence.

And amid the silence, someone stepped out.

"Whatever. Why not?"

Fuck.

I'm "Yeah, sure" level,

"Whatever" level famous.

That's how famous I am these days.

I felt like I'd completely lost my confidence.

Completely.

I got in my car to go home.

Usually, there's an after-party, but I didn't want to stay.

We're different castes.

I went in for just a second,

and the fair-skinned, good-looking guys were speaking a Western language.

I felt like I didn't fit in.

Really, if we had castes, they'd be the ruling caste,

and I would be the untouchables.

So I got in my car to go home.

Ratsamee was driving and singing and whistling his songs.

Bitch.

I was so depressed.

I had lost my confidence.

I felt like… I honestly felt this. I was crushed.

I was outdated.

I'm an outdated person.

I shouldn't have gone. Damn it.

While I was still feeling hurt,

more things kept happening.

When people ask to interview me

for this or that page or for a university,

they love to ask,

and it's usually the last question,

"Lastly, do you have anything you'd like to tell the new generation?"

Me?

Someone like me?

What could I say to the new generation? I'm outdated.

Who are they?

They're the generations after me. They are new, right?

I'm Gen X.

After me, there's

Y, Z,

Alpha, right?

Before that, there's the baby boomers.

Who's a baby boomer? That's Prayut.

There's Prayut, Prawit,

and Bird Thongchai.

In Gen X,

there's

Uncle Phol

and Shaman Pla.

Just look. That's the state of my generation.

In Gen Y, there's

Nont Tanont,

Gun Napat,

and Bella. She's Y.

Bella is Y.

There's BOWKYLION too.

Next,

there's Gen Z with 4EVE, right?

4EVE.

The Alphas are the celebrities' kids.

Saifah's kid, Chompu's kid, and others.

So think, to the next generation, meaning those after me,

what could I have to say?

You know how Gen X grew up?

Later generations like Y,

let's simplify this,

you grew up

eating condensed milk from tubes.

You had it all your lives. It was in tubes.

But Gen X didn't have that.

We didn't.

My generation had condensed milk

from tin cans only.

Cans.

And to drink milk from a can,

you'd have to open it like you were a plumber.

It took so many tools to open that can.

Knife, cleaver, hammer, screwdriver.

It was hard to do alone.

Of course there were can openers then.

They looked like Shiva's trident.

But 95% of them were rusty.

They were rickety and worn out.

There were parts sticking out all over.

Don't know what the fuck they're for, but they're useless!

You couldn't open anything, not even a can of fish.

I'd have to steal my mom's cleaver and use the pointy end.

And if she sees me, she'd scold me for ruining her cleaver.

And I'd…

And when I…

It was so hard to do alone. You'd put it between your legs.

Just bang on. You'd be sweating.

-If you made a hole, did milk come out? -No.

You had to do the other side too.

Make another hole on that side.

After that,

you'd go to pour some on some fried breadstick

and have it with Ovaltine,

but does it come out?

No! What to do?

Blow on it.

Blow on it.

If they had Covid then, we all would have died.

What's more, after you consumed it,

no one could finish the can in one sitting.

You had to store it.

But how?

You had to put it on a plate filled with water.

Plate with water.

But then it gets damp.

Then it gets rusty.

The rim where the milk comes out

would dry up and look like a herpes rash.

Like it had herpes.

Then it wouldn't be so appetizing anymore. The label gets mushy.

So, yeah. That's how we lived.

What could I teach the young people?

That's what I know.

When I was a kid, how did I grow up?

My mom wanted me to have bushy eyebrows.

Butterfly pea flower.

We didn't take supplements.

No vitamin E for hair growth.

Butterfly pea flower.

Gen X put butterfly pea flower on our eyebrows.

Shin-chan's still looked better.

We put it on with no form.

Did it work?

They studied it. It doesn't work. The flowers didn't affect it.

If it did, would you need eyebrow tattoos? Why would people draw them on?

Indians and Latinos don't need to use it,

and theirs are thick.

This is how I grew up.

We haven't even talked about a higher nose bridge.

Back then, when Westerners started coming,

moms wanted kids to have higher noses.

So they pulled our noses.

Everyone in the neighborhood did it.

But my mom didn't get all the information first.

Normally, you need to pull from the bridge to the tip.

But my mom started at the tip.

That's how I ended up with this. Who can I sue for this?

There was also a mumps myth.

Yep, mumps.

Instead of going to a doctor,

I got traditional Chinese medicine.

What did he do?

He wrote "tiger."

I had mumps, and he wrote "tiger"

in purple.

He wrote "tiger."

I really wanted to know why.

So I asked one. I asked the originator.

He said the Chinese believe when we have mumps, we're like pigs.

It's called a pig's chin. It's like a pig's.

You write "tiger"

to scare the pig.

Have you ever heard of this?

Shit.

And when we had mouth ulcers as kids,

we'd be taken to these places for a mouth swab.

When we'd have mouth issues, we'd get a mouth swab.

They'd rub this purple medicine in there.

It didn't stay in your mouth.

It was purple liquid without anything sticky in it.

They'd swab it, and right after you'd see…

only drool. No medicine in there whatsoever.

That "tiger" treatment really irritated me.

If writing "tiger" could make it smaller, you'd be writing it

on your calves. Right?

You wouldn't need liposuction.

Guys who feel manhood-challenged,

just write "horse."

It might puff up.

Want it bigger? Anaconda.

That's how I grew up.

Gen X grew up

with just two kinds of coffee.

O-liang.

O-yua.

"O" means "black."

"Liang" is "cold."

O… "black cold"

O-yua is "black hot."

Adding milk was special. It's called yoklor.

That was all.

But nowadays, Gen X like me,

we stand at the counter at Starbucks

like we're uneducated.

Everything is in English.

Okay, espresso,

cappuccino,

mocha,

latte,

caramel macchiato.

There's this… Frapp…

Frappuccino.

And what else? You have to know which beans you want.

What? I have to know what they are?

There are dark, medium, or light roasts.

There are beans from… Ethiopia.

From all these countries. I need to know this?

Why does Ethiopia grow coffee? I heard they were really poor.

Why? I thought they had nothing to eat.

I have no clue about any of this.

Shit. And, like…

And then the cups.

The cups? It's not small, medium, and large?

It's Ariana Grande and whatnot.

What is this?

Venti schmenti.

There's tall too. Shit! Too much.

I like the beans they call "fruity."

They ask, "Do you want fruity?"

It reminds me of the old bands,

Fruity and Kiriboon.

I'm so outdated.

I felt pressured. "Nose Udom is ordering."

I can't look dumb for the people behind me.

"I've had a lot of coffee already, so I'll take an apple juice."

That's how my generation grew up. What could I teach these kids?

The things Gen X or older know,

I feel like they don't matter to young people.

It's like, you gain all this wisdom to pass on to later generations,

but how do you know that it won't be like…

Lomotil.

Lomotil. If you know it, it means we're the same age.

Lomotil was diarrhea medication for Gen X and baby boomers.

If you weren't well…

Whenever you had diarrhea, the first name you'd think of was Lomotil.

Or for that time of the month, the pad was called a Kotex.

Even if we didn't use that brand.

Instant noodles were what?

We call them Mama noodles even when they might be Yum Yum.

Lomotil too. All diarrhea meds were Lomotil.

But Lomotil was eventually banned.

It's a medicine that…

They call it…

It…

decreases bowel movements.

It stops pooping, but the bacteria is still in there.

What you really need to do is release it.

Just taking electrolytes is enough.

But then you took Lomotil.

Imagine you're around then, and you've got all this Lomotil.

Enough to sell like PIMRYPIE.

And then you give it to younger generations.

That's what it is.

What they'd get would be expired. They couldn't use it anyway.

That's why I'm not trying to tell them anything.

They've got more going for them than I do in every way.

Information and knowledge. You don't need a master to teach you.

You don't need to beg anyone to teach you any secrets.

Everything is on the internet. I'm not trying to tell them anything.

Older generations, all you need to do

is behave so they still respect you.

The things you tried to stop them from doing,

they can do it and prosper.

"Don't be an entertainer."

Look at Lisa.

Look at BamBam.

They can make it at those things.

"Don't wear makeup. You're too young for it."

Look at Nesty,

the teenage trans woman.

She bought her mom a house before she was 15.

And Eclaire Juepak from the Khlong Toei slum.

She bought a 30-million-baht house next to Opal.

Look? How are they not thriving?

I was told not to do art.

"If you do cartoons, what will you grow up to be?"

They told me I'd be a starving artist.

Do you know Crybaby?

The cartoonist?

The first two days of her exhibition made over a hundred million.

Over a hundred million.

The old artists, even the big ones,

never made that much in their whole lives.

So don't think that you have anything to teach young people.

Just be quiet.

Especially all the old people working in parliament.

Don't cheer. I won't go into it.

Whenever I'm in trouble, I never see any of you.

If I say anything more, Srisuwan is gonna file a complaint.

That bastard has too much free time.

Don't clap. It's useless. I don't care.

What I'd like to share with the younger generations isn't really knowledge.

It's a mistake I made.

Older people

have the advantage of having made more mistakes.

There's been more opportunity for it.

So we can take those mistakes

and learn from them to make fewer mistakes.

Those who say they're experienced are those who have made mistakes.

It's true.

So what I would tell young people is an example of a mistake I've made.

I once messed something up

badly enough to get me almost killed.

I was 20-something at the time.

I acted like a typical vocational school kid.

Like 4 Kings.

Because I was in vocational school.

I wore shop clothes from school.

I wore sunglasses and all that kind of stuff.

I didn't know why I did it then.

I mimicked the way the older guys walked.

We moved in a pack with our shoulders up like we were cold.

Or like our hips were dislocated.

We walked like…

I don't know. It was like there was gravel in our shoes.

We'd go out like that, like we were disabled.

We had no idea why we did it.

We'd walk around with the attitude

that anyone who looked at us wanted a fight.

They were asking for it.

But really,

if you want to get to know someone, you look at them.

You know?

You can't just stare at their boobs and say nothing.

That won't work.

You can't look at their knees.

I don't know where we got it from.

We'd move in a group, wearing our shop clothes.

I was a troubled kid. I was influenced by my friends.

If we ran into high school kids, we'd beat them up, pick on them.

We'd take the belts from their uniforms.

Did they even fit?

Nope. They had different sizes.

We'd beat vocational kids and take their uniforms.

Could we wear them? Nope.

We'd take buckles, this and that.

Just doing what our friends were doing. And we'd say it's for our school.

It's for the honor of our school that we love so much.

We haven't been back since.

I haven't worn my shop clothes. There was no real bond.

I just followed the crowd.

In the 4 Kings days, there was a time when

we all read the book Mad Dogs & Co.

If you weren't born then, it's a story about an adventurous life.

We went to the beach.

I went with my best buddies, Ueng and Peera.

Those two had the idea. I just followed. There was also Wilai.

So four in total. We went to Samet.

This is Samet from 30 years ago.

There were no resorts. We stayed on Sai Kaew beach.

In a bungalow made from natural materials.

There were coconut trees.

Stuff was made from coconuts and wood.

It was all stuff from nature.

And right on the beach.

We stayed there two nights. The first night was okay.

The second night, we were drinking at a bar on the beach.

It was a late-night establishment with reggae and such.

We were drinking beer.

There was our table and then another next to us with eight people.

One of the guys asks me, "Hey, Dom, you want a beer?"

"Nah." "You're not phat, man."

"Phat" was a cool word back then.

"You're not phat."

"I'm not phat?"

"I am a phat kid, and virtuous too."

The whole place heard me.

The table next to us

got up, all eight of them,

"Oh, virtuous phat kid."

They were mocking me, I knew it.

Insulting me.

I don't know what was going through my head.

I stood up,

took the bottle my friend was still drinking from,

and smashed it on a rock beside me.

There are rocks on the beach. I smashed it

to make an edge with it, like a shark tooth.

I'm not sure why I was trying to fight though.

What was the point?

All I knew was I just wanted to show off to my friends.

I wasn't myself. I smashed it.

To anyone who wants to be a bad boy,

you have to practice smashing bottles first

to make them sharp.

This was my first time.

I hit it and bang!

All that was left was the neck.

It was a bit pointed,

but more of a tuna tooth than a shark tooth.

I couldn't have stabbed anyone, just scratched them.

I was screwed as soon as I smashed it.

The other group all stood up.

Tensions were high. Everyone was grunting.

I was terrified, but what's done is done.

My friends hadn't been paying attention.

Finally, though, they stood up too.

And the bar owner came over. "No fighting! That's enough."

"Leave! Go to bed."

They got up and walked out.

For us,

the mood was ruined, so we paid our tab.

I said, "I need to use the bathroom first."

But I didn't.

It was dark. The eight were walking through the trees.

I didn't go to the bathroom. I followed them.

I followed them in fear

of where they were going.

Where they'd go.

I walked around the trees, like this,

and past the restrooms,

about 20 meters past the bar.

Shit.

They brought the whole block.

The eight of them were just part of a bigger group.

They had a campfire and were playing music.

It looked like a spring break trip.

Like a reunion or a farewell trip or something.

They were doing like us, but with more people.

The eight walked back to their group.

I was sure they were going to tell their friends,

so I told my group, "I'm tired. Let's go back."

They didn't know what I had seen.

Back at ours, I said, "Tomorrow, let's get out of here early."

"Which ferry?" "The first one at seven."

"Let's stay longer."

"Nah, let's go. My mom probably misses me."

I was trying to find reasons to go early. They still had no clue we were in danger.

We got up early that morning.

I packed my bags.

They went out to gather shells.

Kids those days gathered shells

to put in glass jars.

You'd put sand in it with a message as a souvenir.

They were out. I didn't know what to do.

There was a shoe

that had been washed ashore and buried in the sand.

I took it and cleaned it off.

I drew something while I waited for them and for the ferry.

While I was drawing,

I could see that halfway down the beach,

about 80 meters,

there was

a group walking closer.

When they were 50 meters away,

it was like the movie Armageddon.

There were 40 of them covering the whole beach.

They were all carrying something.

As they got closer,

I could hear, "Fucker." "Asshole." "Motherfucker."

"Don't let me find that punk."

I just heard bits and pieces, but then it got clearer

until they were 20 meters away.

"They must be the guys I got in trouble with last night."

"They're here. Shit."

At 15 meters, I said,

"Peera, Ueng, Wilai, look!"

"It's the guys from last night."

"Dom, stay here. Don't worry."

"Wilai, Peera, come here."

"Go grab sticks."

They went up to find sticks in the mound of rocks.

"I'm gonna go find sticks. Stay here."

But I wasn't looking at my friends.

I was looking at those guys getting closer. Ten meters now.

Until they were just five meters away.

There were more than 40 of them surrounding me like this.

They surrounded me. All of them had something in their hands.

It really was like 4 Kings. Can you imagine?

Brutes. Walking around with their shoulders raised.

There was the instigator.

He had Jazz Chuanchuen's mannerism.

He walked up.

"Fuck."

"This fucking guy."

"Motherfucker!"

"Who is this punk?"

What could I do?

I just froze.

It's not like I could fight them.

One against forty. What do I have?

I had that shoe from the beach.

Should I have offered to fan them?

Wow. He circled me.

"Hey, asshole."

The others were poking me with sticks like I was a turd.

Poking me.

"You think you're hot shit, punk?

What are you gonna do?"

They were moving like they'd hit me but hadn't yet.

They still hadn't actually.

They were swearing at me.

It was like a frat hazing.

They were cussing at me and flipping me off.

Here we say "flipping a bick."

That day I got four boatloads of bicks.

More than I'd need in four lifetimes.

So many bicks. I have more bicks than anyone in Asia and the Arctic.

Tons of bicks. Drowning in bicks.

"Asshole."

"Little bitch. Scumbag."

I got it all.

They were still throwing their hands in my face.

I was scared. I didn't know what to do.

So I wet myself.

I was so freaked out, I peed my pants.

I thought they wouldn't see because the waves were hitting me.

I'd just act smooth.

But their leader saw.

He was a tough-looking guy.

"Oh shit, enough. He's pissed himself!"

"If I see you in Bangkok, asshole,

I'll beat the shit out of you."

"You looking at me?"

I wasn't supposed to, I guess, but I couldn't avoid it.

What was I gonna do?

They cussed at me some more,

threw what they had been carrying, sticks and bottles, and walked off.

Once they had gone,

I collapsed onto the sand like I had been raped.

It was the worst experience of my life.

I can't describe it with words as to how I should feel.

Not many people will go through something like that.

I collapsed there on the beach. Forgot everything else.

Forgot about my friends.

I got my bag. The ferry was in the middle of the beach.

I walked over.

I was the first person on.

I waited for it to leave. I didn't really care when.

If anyone ever gets this ferry at the Ban Phe pier,

the back of it is very hot.

There's a lot of exhaust.

I didn't sit in the back.

I sat in the middle

to get out of the sun.

In this horror story, there's still a silver lining.

It was time for the ferry to leave. The crew was boarding.

Those 40 guys

also got on.

Shit.

Could this get any worse?

They got on and chased me off like a dog.

"You again. Get to the back of the boat. Move, or I'll stomp your face!"

They ran me off back by the exhaust.

I had to sit in the sun

for almost an hour. There were no express boats in those days.

They started playing music again.

Singing and dancing.

They flipped me some more bicks when they had the time.

I was so full from bicks, I wouldn't need any more for many lives to come.

Jeez. When we got to the Ban Phe pier,

I hurried off.

I scrambled along the pier. Jumped off.

I had to catch the Klaeng-Rayong-Bangkok bus.

It was red.

I hurried onto it.

The hellish experience was over.

Finally! Shit!

Every misfortune

has a silver lining.

They were on that bus.

It was full of them.

Packed.

Again they chased me off.

The 40 of them filled the whole bus.

Just like before, they cussed and jeered at me

until we got to Bangkok. I squeezed off the bus

while they cussed at me some more.

And at that moment that I stepped off,

I stopped being a thug completely.

I started walking normally again,

with my feet and shoulders like normal.

It was over. I went back to normal.

I never get into any altercations now.

I never think about hitting anyone. It's done. It's over.

When I got off, they were still yelling at me

and flipping me bicks.

I was over it. After that, I was just a normal guy.

I'm telling you this

as a lesson.

I guess I liked to run my mouth.

Why? I don't know.

Now, if I could see those guys,

the 40 of them,

I would tell them,

"I want to thank you

for… sparing my life." Let's be honest.

Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Thanks for sparing me.

I ran my mouth off without knowing why. I smashed a bottle without knowing why.

It wasn't me then. I was following the crowd.

I wanted to be in the group.

Honor meant nothing to me.

It was all in my head.

I'm sorry to everyone I hurt.

I want to say that.

I'm not like that anymore. I don't want to be like that anymore.

That message was for them.

As for my three friends, who, from that day,

I haven't seen since…

I haven't seen them in…

I…

My mind went blank.

I don't know how they got back.

We stopped talking. It's been over 30 years.

If I saw them,

it would be like,

um…

I just want

to say one thing.

Wilai, Peera, Ueng.

All of you.

You found those sticks yet, assholes?

What kind of sticks were you looking for? Rosewood?

Were you waiting for a permit to cut down the tree?

Fuck you, scumbags!

No matter where I see them,

it could be Paragon or Chatuchak Park,

I remember him.

"You found those damn sticks yet?"

With no provocation. I've held on to this a long time.

Does it hurt?

I like girls who, when they laugh, they massage their cheeks. So cute.

Do you want me to write "tiger"?

Gen X'ers who are near retirement age like me.

Once you get to this age,

you'll get this feeling.

And I think this happens to everyone

in this generation.

You crave nature.

You want to go back to nature,

wake up to nature,

grow your own vegetables, raise chickens and pigs,

this and that.

You see Nam Rapeepat raising pigs and buffaloes,

living with nature, and you want to do the same.

Me too.

I want to do it so badly.

I want to be in nature.

I was in Chiang Mai for a while,

but nowadays, it's overrun with tourists.

I bought a house in Nimman.

I can't even get my car out of the house.

So that's not enough nature.

That wasn't it.

So I went looking for somewhere with more nature.

At the time, I had the opportunity to vacation in Kanchanaburi.

Sai Yok Noi.

I slept on a raft

in Sai Yok Noi.

On the first day, I was so happy.

I woke up to fog over the water.

At night, the sound of the water under the raft…

Damn. Now this is the life.

This is real greenery.

If you go during rainy season,

you'll hear soft rain running down the roof.

That's what people my age want. We want to be in places like that.

I was there three days but wasn't sure about it, so I went back to work.

Went back for another three days. I decided to move to Sai Yok Noi.

I didn't need much information. All I needed was running water and a raft.

I needed to make a raft first.

I didn't know how to though.

Just went for it. I knew diddly-squat.

Where was there land for sale?

I walked all around to look for some.

And you know what? I met a local on a motorbike named Kaek.

He drove past me,

and he did a double take like he recognized me.

"Are you Nose?"

He must have thought it was strange

that I was walking on the path in the woods.

I, who was walking, was like, "Yep, that's me."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for property."

"What are you gonna find like this?"

"What you should do is go ask the head of the village."

"But I know a place. What is it for?"

I told him I wanted a raft.

I wanted to build a raft, and then I would dock it on someone's land.

"Who's going to let you do that?"

"If you dock it to a tree, and it rains,

and it winds up in another province, what will they do?"

"You need land first. It's about land."

"Then I want land close to my resort."

"Along here it's really expensive. It's next to the road."

"If you want cheaper land, you need to go over to the other side."

To get over there I had to drive over a bridge.

It was almost ten kilometers.

But I was determined.

I had no knowledge, just pure desire.

I got a piece of land, not even a rai,

where I could tie a raft.

Kaek called the raft builder for me.

I went to Kanchanaburi a lot until the raft was finished.

I could go be close to true nature now.

My land had no neighbors.

There were two entrances.

One way was to come in through the Wang Krachae temple.

You had to go into the temple, past the crematorium,

pavilion, and all those things for a kilometer to get to my land.

Or go through the Khao Phang Charoenphol temple,

through the gate, past the crematorium, past the 30 dogs, the monks' house,

where they cremate bodies, for a kilometer.

I was between them. No other way in.

None, other than by floating down the river.

No other way.

I love nature. I wanted to be alone out there.

I thought it would be a cool way to live.

To be alone. I could read and write a book.

Just be in nature.

I could grow my own food.

The first night, it rained.

Not a big deal. It creates a nice atmosphere.

It rained. The raft I built had a veranda.

From here to over there.

Just a veranda and then my room.

The raft was about ten by ten.

The veranda was there. This was my bedroom.

I hadn't made any curtains yet.

So it was just a window with brown film on it.

It was raining outside.

For me to sleep, there can't be any light.

But if it's too dark,

I get anxious

because when it's dark, it's pitch black,

since there were no neighbors.

The closest light was way out there.

A Burmese could come slit my throat,

and no one would ever know.

I could be eaten by a python, and no one would know.

It was so dark.

But I had to endure because I love nature.

I turned out the lights,

except for the veranda light.

And I thought,

"Nose,

don't look around."

Only look where you have to.

I knew that at 2:00 a.m., I would have to get up to pee.

"So don't go looking for anything because you're gonna find it."

"Just look at your feet."

Then at 2:00 a.m., I got up to pee.

I walked to the bathroom.

I did my business and went back.

When I laid down again…

This is the mirror.

The bed, the mirror, then the veranda.

I went to lie down,

but as soon as my head touched the pillow,

out of the corner of my eye…

Shit.

An old woman was sitting there in a sarong,

brushing her hair like this.

She brushed her gray hair like this.

I just saw her for a second,

just a split second.

I rolled over.

Shit.

"Why'd you look over there?"

I was scolding myself.

"If you hadn't looked

and had just laid down… But then you'd have hit your head

or walked into the bed. You had to look."

"Shit! It's your fault. You looked. What now?"

I was arguing with myself.

I prayed.

I prayed and prayed,

every prayer I knew, Bahum, even love and kindness.

After a bit, I realized that

I was a grown-up,

and I had to stay here a long time. Am I giving up?

If I lose, I'd lose forever.

Why don't I face it? Stand up to it.

Starting with

did my merit get to her?

If so, she'd be gone.

We could be done. Maybe she was just asking for merit.

Anyway, I tried to man up. I took a deep breath.

I braced myself, turned,

and looked.

Still there.

Still sitting there with legs folded to one side.

It was a stray dog scratching its ear.

What the fuck?

An old lady in a sarong?

Stupid.

It was a mangy dog with matted fur, like…

I felt so ridiculous and pathetic. Jeez.

And you want to be in nature?

After that, I went back to sleep.

But what if the dog was a ghost?

Maybe it shifts into dog form.

Whatever. Go to sleep.

In the morning, I'll ask the locals.

I went to ask the locals how the dog got onto the raft.

"It's probably a temple dog. No need to be surprised."

"Because of the rain."

"It rained. The dog probably went into the light to stay warm."

"Ignore it. It will leave eventually. If you're scared, build a fence."

All rafts need

to have planks to the raft. So I should put a fence up top.

Then it won't come.

No more dogs. That's a relief.

But so many geckos.

The geckos had come.

How did they get on? Did they jump?

"They must have crawled under the plank."

"You're scared of everything."

The geckos came

because of the insects.

Insects come and geckos follow. It's a cycle.

They used to live in the trees. But lights attracted insects, then geckos.

Then what next? Snakes came.

I had snakes, folks.

All these different animals.

Nature is coming for me.

Normally, in Bangkok, you take off your shoes

and then later just slip them on again.

Not here. Once I put my foot in, it felt like there was a sock.

It's either a toad or a frog.

And I wouldn't know when snakes would come.

Geckos, snakes, rove beetles.

Do you know rove beetles?

They come after it rains.

Stripes on their butts. If you touch one, it's like touching acid.

All kinds of animals came to my raft. Pigeons.

Thought it was a ghost.

On the roof. When did they get there?

Fuck. Why are there so many?

Fruit flies.

They come in the summer.

Not alone or in pairs.

They come in the hundreds of thousands.

I thought I was going to be

next to open water, reading books I haven't read in a while.

Writing scripts.

No chance. They flew around my eyes.

They got in my eyes and walked around.

I tried wearing my glasses closer to my eyes,

but they got together and crawled low into my eyes.

They usually swarm buffaloes, but there weren't buffaloes there.

I have to learn to live with them.

I Googled, "How to get rid of fruit flies."

I tried to look it up, but

the internet…

I can't even.

I wanted to be in nature.

No internet.

Took a long time to find out to use peacock flower leaves.

They can deter fruit flies.

Luckily, there was a tree on my land,

so I climbed it and got a bunch.

I picked a bunch, and I set them near me while I was writing.

They didn't help. The flies kept getting in my eyes.

I tied the leaves to my glasses.

Like a crazy person. I looked like a bush.

I'm telling you right now. Don't believe Google. It didn't do shit!

They kept coming like before.

What's worse is the leaves smelled terrible.

They made me dizzy and sneezy.

I had allergies. My nose was running. How could I be with nature?

It was so hard to get through each night.

Some especially so.

I'd be in bed,

and all I could think about, because this is just what I know…

I'd be in bed… ghost?

I'm being attacked by a ghost.

"How dare you be on my land?"

I went and asked Kaek if there were ghosts there.

My land is in between two temples.

Was there a funeral lately?

"Jeez. When it rains,

logs and bamboo come down the river."

"They get under the raft and hit the pontoons."

I looked defeated.

I admit I can't cook.

I don't know how. When night came around,

I wanted to go to 7-Eleven.

The nearest 7-Eleven was at least eight kilometers away.

But that wasn't the issue. I had to go through the temple.

Rural temples, for some reason, try to save money by shutting off the lights.

I took my car out.

Here's the raft. I had to climb the hill,

and then up onto the road.

It was pitch black. Mine were the only lights.

Outside, it was completely dark.

I tried turning off my headlights, and I was one with the dark.

I went a little ways.

Almost at the temple. About a kilometer.

As soon as I saw the crematorium,

I wasn't hungry anymore.

I went home and made instant noodles.

Things were never easy.

Those vegetables I wanted to grow? The worms ate them.

Don't be so naive. Don't ever think wood vinegar can get rid of worms.

It can't.

I talked to farmers. Using wood vinegar is just a myth.

It makes them feel disoriented,

but it doesn't deter them.

"So how do you all do it?"

"Pesticides, kid."

I'd figured out the truth in my time

living in nature and wanting to be self-sufficient.

I'll tell you.

Nothing is sufficient for me.

I couldn't stay.

It's not for me.

I was just pretending to want to be self-sufficient and grow vegetables.

It wasn't really me. It was all for show. I just wanted to be that person.

It wasn't easy.

I was just following celebrities and influencers.

I saw them harvesting rice.

Dummy. It came from a van.

They slather on a bunch of sunscreen,

get off, pose for the Gram,

and go back to the A/C.

People who really do it

are the farmers.

Don't pretend to be one. I know that now.

I'm not a farmer.

As a kid, I was poor enough. I don't need to pretend to be poor now.

Right? I want air conditioning,

high-speed internet to watch Netflix all day, and no fruit flies in my eyes.

I'm a consumer.

Other people can produce. I'll be a buyer.

That's a balanced society.

Otherwise, everyone would grow their own vegetables.

I went to the Sai Yok Noi market.

The sellers said that sales were low because it was all farmers in the area.

They all grew food. There was no one to buy.

If you grow food, you know that once you harvest, you can't eat it in time.

I had too much to eat.

Who do I give it to? I didn't have any neighbors.

You know?

Whose phone is that?

Ding-dong.

Is that Bella's phone? Leave it on, then!

Let's listen. I like it.

When I'm on stage, a ringtone like that is soothing.

Put three of them on.

Anyone who has a problem can leave.

During Deaw #12,

I actually

announced my engagement.

That was five years ago.

People have asked me if it's happened yet.

"What about the bride's house?"

The house was finished back then.

Five years later,

I'm still alone.

They ask, "Are you not lonely?"

"I'm fine." "How?"

Because of escorts.

You didn't know about these?

I'm getting by because of them.

I've gotten to know them very well only recently.

I wasn't so naive I hadn't heard of them.

I knew about them, but I'd never been to one.

Not long ago, a friend invited me

to a business meeting at a Japanese restaurant in Sathorn.

It was a bougie place with a huge VIP area.

I thought we were actually going to talk business.

Everyone at the table was a big businessman.

I thought they wanted me as a presenter or something.

I had dressed up. And then we sat down.

There were six or seven of them.

I joined them and we chatted for a bit. Made small talk.

They said more people would be joining us.

I thought they meant more businessmen. Then the door opened.

Gorgeous.

Four of them.

They came in and sat down at the places that had been set for them.

There was one named

Joy, let's say, sitting next to me.

This is how professional they are.

They act very familiar.

Like a school friend.

"Nose this, Nose that."

They just fit right in. So this is what they call "professional."

But they don't do anything sexual.

They just entertain.

We were having fun. Talking dirty.

But Joy beside me,

I noticed that she wasn't saying much.

So I thought I'd… be a gentleman

and take some food…

I'll be honest. I was trying to flirt.

I took some sushi and put it on her plate.

She turned and looked, "You only give me one bite."

"But when I eat you, I'll take two bites."

That's a real escort.

I gave her wasabi.

"Careful, honey. It's spicy. This is fresh wasabi. Here."

"But

I'm spicier."

After that, I saw that she was wearing one of those jackets women like to wear.

It's like a blazer, but the arms don't go in.

I didn't understand why she was wearing it.

It had to…

It had to be hard to lift her arms or pick things up.

It was like she was carrying a rod with things hanging on each end.

I asked her, "Are you cold?"

"If you're cold, I'll tell the staff to turn down the A/C."

She said, "I'm not cold."

"If I take this off,

everyone will see my breasts."

"Could you handle it?"

She took it off before I could answer.

She draped it over a chair and then turned to face me.

I was right here.

And the first thing she said was,

"Do you think they're big?"

My whole life, I've never had this kind of conversation.

A woman just asked me, "Do you think they're big?"

If this is universally accepted, I'll use it.

On the train, could I ask a woman, "Does my dick look big?"

Very entertaining.

It was a new conversation for me. Livened me right up.

"Um, well… they're nice and proportioned."

She said, "I'm going to get a boob job to make them E cups."

I asked, "Why? These are good already."

"You don't get it. There's a lot of competition in this job."

"I have to have a selling point."

"These look natural."

"Natural is also a selling point and hard to find these days."

"You're too late."

"My surgery is in four days."

"Really?"

She sighed. "But I can't get it done anyway."

"Why not?"

"I'm 40,000 short."

I told her to postpone the surgery.

She said, "I can't."

"The surgeon is famous." She listed some of the celebrity clients.

"They're really good. It's hard to get an appointment."

"Most importantly, I need them quick."

"Need them quick?"

I was confused. Was there a waiting list to suck on them?

I didn't know what to say. "Ah, yes."

I started eating again to avoid having to talk.

I had a sip of green tea.

There was an awkward silence, and she said to me,

"Nose?"

"If you helped me out

with the 40,000,

after the surgery, you'll be the first to see them."

Wait. I wasn't born yesterday.

I'm a grown man. I've seen a lot.

We've just met, and she asks me for 40k for a boob job?

You know what I said to her?

"Joy…

give me your bank info."

Got her Line ID?

I transferred her the money right away.

Sent.

In four days, I'll be the first to see them.

I didn't have to wait four days.

At about 2:00 a.m., she blocked my Line account.

I know this will be on Netflix.

So at least

if she's watching… I'll talk to the camera.

Joy,

that 40,000

is no problem.

I'm not asking for it back.

It was worth the money

for such a professional entertaining service.

But…

well… if I could ask for just one small thing.

That night, next to each other, I saw that she had very nice tattoos.

They were here and there. Graphic-style tattoos.

I would like to ask you, Joy,

to get a tattoo

of my name

under your breast.

The name of your donor.

Like when you go to temples,

there are names engraved on trays, plates, chairs,

and the base of some sort of tombstone.

So when people use her breasts,

rubbing them,

pushing them up, sucking,

sniffing, licking, whatever…

"Hey, wait."

"'Donated by Nose Udom Taephanich.'"

"Wait a second."

"I rejoice in his merit."

It's not that I'm not looking for a partner.

It's not that.

I date like everyone else.

When you want love, you go out and find someone you're into,

and you date and get to know them.

But the thing is,

love is not enough.

Relationships aren't just between two people either.

Love involves many people around those two people.

Parents, siblings, relatives, coworkers.

Love involves lots of people and the little details about that person.

About eating, pooping, sex, sleeping.

Eating, pooping, sex, sleeping.

Eating.

Imagine that

someone loves to eat.

They eat and eat, and it makes them happy.

But the other doesn't care for it. They're picky. Not this or that.

They're vegan or don't eat things for cult reasons.

It's harder, you see?

I'm not saying what's good or bad, but it's a mismatch.

We eat several times a day.

You have breakfast, and then three hours later, you eat.

What to eat is always an issue.

Do you eat the same?

Pooping.

I once had a friend.

We're still friends, actually.

We went abroad together for ten days. She didn't poop.

This woman did not poop.

I was worried. How do you do it?

She said it wouldn't come.

She drank water, ate this and that, whatever would help, but nothing came out.

In those ten days, I learned what the face of someone who can't poop looks like.

Nothing looked good to her.

She didn't want to shop or do anything. She looked depressed.

We'd walk around and her sweat would be sticky like watery diarrhea.

We were miserable.

We weren't happy at all.

This is what happens when there's a pooping incompatibility.

Is my partner the jealous type? Do they cheat?

Are they an alcoholic?

Lazy? There are lots of things to consider.

Eating, pooping, sex.

We're all adults. We know it's important.

Are you compatible?

For men, I'll compare it to food so you can understand.

Sex…

Some men are in a hurry.

If it's like food, they're impatient.

Say, when they eat instant noodles, the noodles aren't even fully cooked.

When they're done, they go to sleep.

But their partner has more delicate tastes.

They prefer omakase dining.

There's got to be an appetizer to stimulate the taste buds,

then other dishes in a specific order until you get to the main course.

Then dessert to finish things off.

There has to be an atmosphere and music.

The scent… everything must be perfect.

It's all very delicate.

But this guy just does it and is out.

Doesn't make an effort.

It's a mismatch.

Some people like

to stuff themselves.

Maybe they watch too much porn.

Chomp, chomp, chomp.

It's all quantity over quality. They love a buffet.

They gorge themselves. Rimming, blowing, muff diving.

Toe sucking. All this weird stuff they see in pornos.

Some people are like hermits

living in a cave.

They come out once a year.

If you're not compatible, it won't work out. Trust me.

Eating, pooping, sex, sleeping.

Sleeping. This is super important.

I once dated this woman.

After several months, we wanted to know each other better,

so we went on a trip abroad.

So we went.

That was our first night together,

on the same bed.

We had not had any sexual relations before.

We get into bed.

It was king-sized, and to show my pure intentions,

I put a pillow between us.

I was a gentleman.

Deep down, I wanted to cross that line, but I kept it together

because adult relationships are serious.

I wanted a serious relationship, someone to spend the rest of my life with.

So that night we're in bed, and I'm trying to be cool.

I'm a middle-aged man. I can't have soda before bed, or at all.

I'll be farting.

Poot, poot. Braap! I'll lose points with her.

I can't be snoring.

Don't snore. I fluffed my pillow up

so that I couldn't roll over

or wind up in any strange positions.

This was how I slept.

If my neck turns, I'll snore.

Then I tried to sleep.

I shut off the lights.

We fell asleep.

In the middle of the night,

about 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.,

I heard snoring.

I was jolted awake. "Shit. Don't do this."

"Don't screw this up."

Have you ever been woken up by your own snoring?

You hear it, and it startles you?

I sat up in bed. "Come on. Keep it together."

While I was rearranging my pillows, I still heard the snoring.

It was like this.

Like a pig being crushed in a doorway.

For real.

I had to practice that sound a lot

because I wanted it to be accurate for you.

Every chord.

I was not the snorer.

It was her.

What could I do?

I need complete darkness and quiet to sleep.

She snored.

I didn't know her well enough yet. If she were a friend, I could kick her,

or roll her head to the other side to change the station.

Put on the B-side.

Different music. Because I've never heard this one before.

How does it work? Was it the way her neck was bent?

I'd never heard these notes before.

She kept on snoring.

From 2:00 a.m. until morning, I didn't sleep a wink.

I just laid there.

Oh, man.

Come morning, everything was normal.

You know what you ask when you start seeing someone?

We went down to have breakfast at the hotel.

"How'd you sleep?"

I'm a considerate person.

I told her, "Not well at all."

"Why? Were the pillows too firm?"

"Nah, they were fine." It was a five-star hotel.

"Was the bed too firm?"

"Nah, it was better than at home."

"Then

why couldn't you sleep?"

I was trying to be considerate by saying,

"You were snoring."

Any good humor she had just left her face.

"That's not funny."

She told me it wasn't funny.

"Don't mess around like that."

"I broke up with my ex because he snored, and I couldn't sleep."

"My friends told me to break up with him."

"We couldn't figure out what to do."

"Then one night we were out of town, and I took a clip of him doing it."

"I sent it to my friends to show them what I was dealing with."

"They told me to break it off. So this isn't funny at all."

Then I got the cold shoulder.

We went out, and she was all mopey.

She was acting… you know?

I took her shopping to make her feel better.

Her mood improved at dinner.

Then we got back into the same bed.

And, I mean,

when we're tired, we might snore.

I do it too.

If you're tired or in the wrong position, you might snore.

Maybe it had happened because she was tired from traveling.

So we slept. It was about the same time of night.

Like a pig was being tortured.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't sleep.

I sat up quietly so I wouldn't wake her.

My phone was charging next to the bed.

I unplugged it.

I didn't know what else to do,

so I took a video.

A long one.

I didn't know what else to do until morning.

I had a lot of footage.

The next morning at breakfast, she asked again,

"Nose,

how did you sleep?"

I really am a considerate person.

I showed her the video.

She watched it.

It looked like

she was going to drop my phone.

"Nose,

is this for real?"

"It's not a fake. That would have taken ages."

"It can't be real."

"It can't be."

She was bawling.

There, in the restaurant.

She was really crying her eyes out.

I didn't know how to console her. I didn't think it would be this bad.

I had to tell her

that we all snore. We all have stuff.

We went back.

We cut the trip short. She didn't speak to me on the plane.

Afterwards, I wanted to help.

I said, "Let's go see a doctor

to get a sleep test at Samitivej Srinakarin."

We had to sleep at the hospital.

The doctors and nurses stuck things on our heads, temples, chests,

all the way down to our toes.

We slept and let the doctors and nurses monitor

if we were breathing or tossing and turning.

All this stuff they measured with a computer.

Then they looked over it.

She has to sleep with a mask for the rest of her life.

There's no way to cure it. You can't cure snoring.

It's too complicated.

The cause could be allergies, being overweight,

muscular weakness in the tongue,

or a constricted airway that causes a lack of oxygen.

It's like when you drink boba tea.

Usually, the liquid comes up easily,

but the boba can plug up the straw.

It's like that.

Our bodies need oxygen. They don't want to die.

That's the cause.

It was time to choose a mask.

It was a big decision.

The masks were like care models.

There were the Chinese ones, and then there were the supercars.

Lighter ones were expensive

because the machine releases oxygen mixed with moisture into your nose.

It's loud.

It won't fit your face right

unless it's custom-made, so you have to try different models.

There are ones with three straps

that cover your nose and mouth.

There's a long tube

that connects to a machine beside the bed.

The machine was on the side I like to sleep,

but the plug was there.

She plugged it in.

Picture it.

The mask and three straps across her face. Headband like a tennis player.

Straps right down the middle and under the chin.

Otherwise, it would slip off.

Don't think you could get turned on with it.

Like sleeping with Darth Vader.

You think you'd be down for some hanky-panky with Darth Vader?

"Hey, baby."

Then she turns around…

There goes my lightsaber.

I wondered to myself

if I could stand being with…

It was like she was a patient, and I was her caregiver.

Could I sleep with this invalid for the rest of my life?

You know what I mean? In real life…

Relationships require choices.

And you have to take responsibility for those choices.

There's no right or wrong. But you choose.

Imagine your husband drinks too much.

You're choosing to be with him.

Or if he gambles.

You're choosing to stay.

He's a game addict.

Did you choose him? Yes? Then that's on you.

That's how it is.

Being with Darth Vader?

Are you into it?

You won't get to use the lightsaber.

I've told ghost stories a lot lately.

People ask me if it's true.

I don't know, but it's still in my house.

Yeah.

A lot of my elders are worried for me.

They call me and say, "Nose, do you still have that ghost?"

I say, "I don't know,

but I've gotten braver. I feel like we can live with one another."

They ask, "Have you been making merit for them?"

I say, "Don't worry about that."

"This has been my number one priority."

"It's the thing I love doing most."

"Have you been sharing it?" "Of course."

"Are they receiving it?" "How would I know?"

"If they got the merit, it would be over."

"How do I know? I've been sending it to my karmic partners."

"No, you have to identify their name."

"Wait. How am I supposed to know who…

this belongs to?"

You know?

Who sent me this ghost? Where did it come from?

Someone told me it's black magic. From who?

"I know a shaman who can help."

"Where?"

"Here's his number."

He gave me the location too.

"How's he special?"

"You need to go see him."

"He'll give you five names."

"Then you'll need to ask for forgiveness

with incense, candles, and flowers."

"It'll be gone by morning."

"Oh, okay. I'll give it a try."

So I went to find the shaman.

He's in the north. I can't say the province.

I couldn't find him because the roads were complicated,

so I hired

a driver named Ad.

Ad was a young northern guy with fair skin.

Good-looking man. One kid.

He took me through all the roads.

Long story short, we arrived at a Lanna-style house.

Several people were waiting.

I waited about an hour and a half for my turn.

I went inside the house. It was the size of this stage.

He sat on a bench with a triangular cushion next to him.

I crawled towards him. "What brings you here?" he asked.

I told him what was going on.

"I have a ghost. Someone told me I've been cursed."

"It's all right. I will…

give you names."

"Yes. What do I do?"

"Visit nine temples to make merit."

He gave me a list of temples.

"It has to be these nine because they are connected to your karma."

"Ah, I see. What do I do after that?"

"After that,

send photos or videos of you making merit to my assistant."

I got his number.

Once I had visited all nine temples,

the assistant would take that merit like a fee and then meditate.

Communicate with some higher power

and decode that into a list of five names.

I was done,

so I thanked the shaman as I was supposed to.

I walk out the door.

"Wait," he said.

"The first can leave. The other must stay."

The first was me.

The other was Ad. What?

"Come to me."

I figured they were going to talk about me

because he might have known something life-threatening.

Didn't want to say it to me.

So I waited outside.

Ad was in there for 35 more minutes.

I waited in the heat for him.

When he came out,

I asked him, "Hey, Ad. How was it?"

"I can't tell you here. Let's get in the car."

We get in the car.

We drove some ways. "Just tell me."

"We're still too close. I don't think I can say it yet."

"Shit. I need to know now. Tell me."

"There's a café ten kilometers from here."

We stopped there.

We sat down without ordering.

"Tell me. What's going on?"

"I went in,

and the shaman locked the door,

closed the curtains,

and walked up to me,

close enough that I could feel him breathing."

"He spoke in Northern Thai."

"Are you having any problems right now?"

"No, I'm not."

"You will."

"But wait,

I'll give you five names."

"Where should I go to make merit?"

"No need."

"Then what should I do?"

"Shirt off."

Ad took off his shirt. "What did he do?"

"He got very close to me and asked, 'What day of the week were you born?'"

"I answered, 'Sunday, sir.'"

"He tapped me with his hand in ascendant signs."

"Monday, Tuesday,

Wednesday,

Thursday,

Friday,

Saturday, Sunday."

"Ad! What did you do?"

"I didn't know what to do."

"I didn't know if it was a ritual. I just let him grope me."

"And then what?" "He asked me what month I was born."

"I said September."

"January, February, March, April…

September."

"What is your birth year sign?"

"I was born in the Year of the Pig."

"The Rat. The Ox. The Tiger. The Rabbit."

"The Monkey. The Rooster. The Dog."

"The Pig."

"And then what?"

"He told me he couldn't see yet."

"The list was still unclear."

"They weren't complete. Sometimes with just first or last names."

"What should I do?"

"Pants off."

He had Ad take off his pants

and lie down on the bench where he was sitting.

Sat on that bench. The shaman got close.

He asked him again,

"What day were you born?" "I already told you."

"The list is still unclear."

Again, Rat, Ox, grope.

He groped him through the whole set.

Then Ad left.

He showed me the paper. "These are the five names I got."

I looked at it. "Shit!"

I said it so loud, people in the café looked at me.

"What the fuck is wrong with him? Why did he do that?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm a guy, so it wasn't a big deal."

"Yes, it was!"

I get upset hearing about sexual harassment.

It doesn't just happen to women. It can happen to men too.

I felt…

"I brought you there."

"I took you into that."

"We're going back."

"We gotta teach that scumbag a lesson."

"It's no big deal."

"No, he can't get away with it."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to confront him with everyone around."

"Shaman, how could you do this?"

"What's wrong with my dick?"

"Why do I have to go to nine temples?"

"Travel all over."

"I have to go to Phitsanulok, into the mountains, Bangkok."

"To go to all nine, it'll take me

almost a month and 100,000 baht in plane tickets."

"I could've just had my dick squeezed."

"What did I do wrong?"

"Get over here and grope me."

"I'll get undressed."

This is life for my generation.

It's… being over the hill. It's retirement age.

People around this age will think the same way.

We want to complete our bucket list.

We get excited to do things we've never done.

Some people want to

skydive, jump out of a plane.

Others want to climb mountains

or swim with sharks.

Some people travel the world.

You know? I never really cared about those.

I never wanted to do all that.

They aren't a big draw for me.

I like things that make me

feel energized.

But not like that.

I just did something very energizing.

I saw an exotic dance.

Yep.

You may think exotic dancers aren't that special.

Why would you go there?

It wasn't my idea. A foreign friend of mine came up with it.

He was visiting. I asked him his plans.

He said eating at Jay Fai's, Wat Phra Kaew.

For his last stop,

he was going to a go-go bar on Bangla Street in Phuket.

I asked why. He said, "You've never heard of it?"

"I'm not gonna say."

"You need to see for yourself. You're Thai!"

I couldn't let him look down on me,

so I had to go.

These kinds of things are

important to me.

The kinds of things

that seem pointless but actually mean everything to me.

So I went to Phuket, to Bangla. I found the bar he told me about.

He told me the show was like nothing I'd ever seen.

I didn't know anything about it. I stepped onto Bangla and into the alley…

with people dancing.

Some saw me and asked for photos.

It was all good. I asked someone where the bar was.

They told me,

"It's a secret bar."

"It changes its name every month because the police always shut it down."

"I can't

tell you where it is right now, but it used to be on that street."

He pointed at a street, and I walked that way.

I found the place, but there was another name on it.

I walked up to a guy standing outside.

He looked tough.

"I'm looking for this place."

"You're Thai?"

"No Thais. You can't come in."

Thais couldn't go in. No wonder.

"Get out of here. Thais aren't allowed."

He chased me off like a dog.

Being Nose Udom meant nothing.

I gave up. I had traveled all this way,

and I couldn't even get in. Then I saw this guy.

He had tattoos all over his face.

I took a photo with him up the alley.

He said, "Nose, what are you doing?"

"I wanted to go to this go-go bar."

He walked through a group of foreigners.

"You," he said to the guy selling tickets.

"You."

"Put your phone away. They don't allow recording."

He must be the boss man.

My good deeds were finally paying off.

This was my reward.

I was the only Thai in the bar.

The room was about this big

and full of Koreans, Chinese, Blacks, Whites. All sorts of people.

He walked me up to the very front.

Right here. Right next to the stage.

It was a bit higher.

Like this.

The show had started a while ago.

As soon as I got there, it was that show.

Okay. It was…

a woman who was about 40.

She came out dancing… these sexy moves,

but it looked like she hadn't gotten enough sleep.

Like she was tired and malnourished.

And perhaps she had financial problems.

She danced like she had seen a lot in her day.

So she danced.

The music was dance music.

I want to hum it to you,

but I'd have to pay for the rights.

If I sing or hum anything in my show, I might get sued.

Stand-ups are hard these days.

My staff told me to hum this one instead.

They'd gotten permission for it.

It's "Thatthong Sound."

Imagine her dancing to "Thatthong Sound."

I don't actually know the lyrics.

Thatthong Sound

Looking at the stars…

It doesn't work!

Let's say she was dancing.

After a bit, she walked over to pick up a bowl.

It was a fishbowl with a ruffled edge.

About this size. There was water in it.

She carried it over and set it here.

Set it right here.

Then she stood with it between her legs.

The song was still playing.

Jeez! Why couldn't you have gotten an easier song?

Then the song stopped.

Pop.

She was completely naked. Not an article of clothing on her.

Pop.

She did a little hip flick.

Something living

came out of her…

"snatch." I'll call it a "snatch."

It's a common term these days. "Snatch."

This creature came out of her snatch.

It came out,

and at first it didn't move.

It landed in the water and rose to the top.

I knew it was a fish.

I knew from the shape. It was wriggling a bit.

It's a fish. But it didn't swim.

I'm not sure why.

Maybe it was in shock.

Maybe it had hit its head.

Can you imagine it? The impact.

After a bit, it got used to the water.

Its fins were…

Then it started to swim.

It swam around the bowl. I was at the front. This close to it.

I could tell it was a fish.

But I looked, "What fish is that?"

What kind of fish?

I wondered just like everyone.

Catfish.

My jaw dropped, just like all of yours.

It was about this big.

This big. I was right there.

A catfish!

How did a catfish come out of there? I had so many questions.

How did it work?

Wouldn't the barbs have stung her?

When I was a kid, I caught one, and it stung me. It hurt so bad.

Where did she put the barbs?

Where did it go? How did the storage work?

While I was perplexed, she did another flick.

Three of them were swimming in the bowl.

I get now why my foreign friend said

it was sad I hadn't seen this.

It really broadened my horizons.

I was enthralled.

All three of them were out.

I was really impressed at that moment.

All I had for her in return was a tip.

I gave her everything I got.

Gave her the tip.

Then she packed up her skit.

Someone else came up.

She was carrying a fishbowl too, but it was empty.

The fish were home, maybe.

Back with their mother.

Right? Who had just given birth to them.

Are you sleepy or laughing?

Are you leaning over because you're laughing, or are you falling asleep?

I've just peaked.

Tell me, what did I do wrong?

What's the problem?

I'll be watching you.

Back to the fishbowl.

This woman was about 30.

She set the bowl down.

The music started.

Let's avoid issues and keep the same song.

I'm really forcing myself.

She was dancing to this sexy music.

Sexy dance. Then the music stopped.

She did the hip flick, and out came…

Do you know what came out?

It had four legs.

Turtle.

A Japanese turtle.

It was round. About this big.

A Japanese turtle. It was adorable.

A Japanese turtle.

There were three of them again. They were swimming around.

The mother of turtles.

So this is what she looks like.

What could I give her for such a thing? I gave her a huge tip. She left.

She had been very professional,

but it seemed like she didn't really enjoy her job.

I think that

it's like,

I don't know,

her business is her business.

At least she enjoyed it more than this bitch.

I'll keep coming back to you.

I won't let you fall asleep.

She picked up the bowl and set it aside.

The third woman came out.

Not the same as the first one.

I don't know how old she was. She was older.

She also danced some.

They all came on like this. Doing a sexy dance.

When the music stopped,

I was anticipating…

I was anticipating what would come out.

There was no one there to talk to

because it was all foreigners.

I think they didn't expect a Thai in the audience.

What was going to come out?

She stood there,

but nothing came out right then.

There wasn't a bowl.

But after a while, something poked its head out.

Bird.

A yellow bird stuck its head out.

And then she went "pop,"

and it flew out of her snatch.

It flew out of the snatch.

I'm telling you. This was more exciting

that jumping out of a plane with no parachute.

Or swimming with crocodiles.

Or climbing Everest.

A bird came out of her snatch.

Two meters in front of me.

It was like…

It was like a scene from a movie,

but it was real. It flew out.

The bird flew off.

It flew around the room.

It wasn't like in the movies where it would swoop down.

More like a bird that flew into the house.

It was startled.

It had just come out of a cave, and now there were all these people.

The audience was making a noise like you. It flew into a mirror and a wall.

The audience was howling.

It was like

it had been scripted.

It flew around, and where did it land?

In front of me.

I really wish this was made up, but it's true.

It didn't land like this.

Lightly like this.

It landed here, and then it slid.

Smack. And it drifted… under the table.

Went under the table.

And everyone's eyes

were right here because they were worried about the bird.

It went under the table, and I was like…

I had to lift my legs.

But I wanted to help catch it.

I was afraid I would step on it.

This could have been her legitimate child.

What would I do if I killed her child?

Like this.

The staff came over to get it.

What do you call them?

The servers and the bar owner came to help.

"Lift your legs, please."

People were gathered around.

The woman who had released the bird,

the mother of birds, came up to me.

This is Nose Udom here.

"Sit still. Don't step on it."

While she was in front of me, she…

"Hey."

"Is that Nose?"

"Hey, it's Nose Udom."

She'd forgotten the bird.

"Nose Udom."

"Shit! Nose Udom is here!"

Her mood completely changed.

She looked excited.

"Nose! How did you get in? Who let you in?"

"I saw you before, but I thought you were Jackie Chan."

"It's really Nose Udom. Hey, wait."

She told the server, "Bring a pen and paper."

"I watched you as a kid. Bring the paper here."

She crawled closer to me.

"Could you sign this, please?"

You have to understand that

she was stark naked.

Which is no big deal for her. It's her uniform.

Right? It's her work uniform.

Just a normal thing.

She'd probably been doing this for ten years.

It was nothing new.

She squatted.

"Please sign this."

While I was doing it, I wasn't sure where to look.

It was the first time that I didn't feel like a celebrity.

I felt like an OB-GYN.

My signature was all over the place.

It was all…

There was too much going on for me to process. The bird…

And then she came and just spread like…

Her being a fan. So much.

This was something else.

"Don't go anywhere. When I'm finished, could I get a photo too?"

She was talking to me for a while.

It was like…

I didn't know what to say. I was floored. I gave her a huge tip.

Then we found her bird.

She gathered it up and thanked the crowd. We clapped for her.

"Since you're here, I'll give you an encore."

An encore?

I wanted to know what it would be.

She disappeared, probably to discuss

what they would do for me.

In a little while, three of them came out

carrying a bunch of bananas.

They were green bananas.

They carried them together.

The music was peppy. They were dancing. And they brought the bananas.

Then she pulled off a banana

and peeled it.

And then

she

took that banana

and stuck it in, in this position.

I was wondering why.

She put it all the way up there.

Then there was an announcement.

The DJ came on.

"Would someone like to volunteer to hold the basket?"

Do you think…

You think I'd let that pass by?

Not a chance. She shoved it at me.

"Come on up." So I went up on that stage.

Onstage, I had the basket. I didn't know why.

I didn't know how to act. "What do I do?"

"Hold it like that. If something comes out, catch it."

The basket was over there.

Music came on. They counted, "One, two, three," and pushed,

and the banana came out.

It shot over.

I still didn't know what to do. It was getting away from me.

What do I do? I dove.

The people there clapped like you all are.

I felt like one of those couples who work together.

I was ecstatic. I loved it.

When the show was over,

she wrapped herself in a blanket

and came to have a long chat with me.

I felt like I had learned some very interesting things.

I asked her

how she got those things up in there.

For real. I asked her, "Where did they go?"

I didn't want to push it because she was a woman.

Her answer was simple.

"It's a skill, Nose. You have to learn it."

"This here is my aunt."

"The skill had been passed down through generations in the same village."

"Not everyone can do it."

"It's a special skill."

And I really believe her.

"Here, take some more money. I really enjoyed it. Thank you so much."

We said goodbye, and I headed back to Bangkok.

I went to the office to tell my underlings.

I bragged hard.

"I went to see an exotic dance with birds…"

One of them said, "Nose."

"Why so far away?"

"They have that in Pattaya."

"Nah, Pattaya is all ping-pong shows. I've seen that."

"This one is better."

"It's male strippers."

"They just strip down. Every gay bar has those."

"It's not the same."

"I'm telling you."

"I just went with some friends."

"Then I took my parents."

"My mom cried."

A dutiful child. I like this.

I didn't take my mother though. I took the staff from the office.

There were eight of us in a van.

Eight of us. Four women, four men.

In my office, we really prioritize this kind of thing.

Work? Whatever.

This is what we do.

We went to Pattaya. The first show was at 9:00 p.m.

Tickets were 400 baht.

I wore a mask, but the others didn't.

No one recognized me. We sat down.

I knew the best spot was right in front.

The eight of us sat in a row.

The show had both male and female performers.

I'd seen the women before, so I wasn't that excited about them.

But there was one where she smoked.

She used her snatch to smoke.

She smoked two of them.

Like it was inhaling and exhaling.

How did she do it? And blow out?

Where did it come out of?

I watched the smoke go in and out.

The balloon darts

were nothing special.

I just watched them. Finally, the men were up.

This was what I've been waiting for.

The place and the stage was about this big.

There was a spiral staircase.

The lighting was dimmer than this.

It was lit only right here.

There was the staircase.

The lighting was glow-in-the-dark.

White things really popped.

The first performers were young men.

They looked rural, like they came from the jungle.

They had six-packs and sacred tattoos.

They came down the stairs in just their underwear.

The music came on.

They came down slowly.

Like this.

The music was as distracting as the junk in their pants.

There were four of them.

From afar, I thought, "Fake."

"Not real."

They were too long to be real.

There's no way.

They walked out.

The room was dark, but it was glowing somehow.

It didn't look like his dick.

It was an arm in a cast.

How was it bigger than his underwear?

That's crazy! He walked like…

I saw it in the dark.

There was a bulge like this.

No way. That's bullshit.

False advertisement to swindle tourists.

The four of them stood on stage.

The Four Heavenly Kings.

They started doing a sexy dance.

They were fondling themselves.

One of them lit a handful of candles,

and he let the wax drip onto him.

It was all very sexy. Sexy music.

At the end of this show,

the eight of us had questions about whether it was real.

Because it was still in the pants.

I thought to myself, "No way. That's a dildo."

They cut it in half and put it over the real one

as an extra layer.

That's a cheap trick. Not even worth the show.

Then more women came out. Whatever.

Then the second male show came on.

Music.

Wait a second.

He wasn't bare-handed. He had a gallon of water.

A water gallon of that size is

about five liters.

Five heavy liters.

Can you give me one? You have a gallon?

I want them to get the idea. He walked down like this.

Even like this, it's heavy.

It was really this big. It was this size.

Music.

He walked much cooler.

He started to dance sexy. I didn't know why he brought the water.

Attached to it,

there was a rope made of a strip of cloth.

It came up like this.

To about here.

About eight inches.

He walked up.

I thought, "What's going on? What's that for?"

And then he… went over

to Naew in the audience.

Naew is the one who gave me the water just now.

He asked her,

"Please hang it up."

"On what?"

"Here."

Then he took off his underwear,

and it almost hit Naew in the chin.

If she'd been closer, it could have knocked her out.

It was erected way out like…

I was like, "Watch out!"

She turned to me and asked, "Should I do it?" No one answered.

"I think I should."

Didn't want an answer because she wanted to try it.

She put it on like a garland on a politician.

As she hung it on,

you'd expect with that weight of five liters of water

that the water would slide off.

It didn't, damn it!

It held firm. And the…

That gallon of water was still hanging.

It was off the ground.

He used… I don't know what to call it.

"Dick" doesn't seem right.

There's not enough respect in it.

Let's keep saying "bick."

But it wasn't just any bick.

If most bicks are "Ah," this one was,

"ARGH!"

BICK!

This is a bick!

If it gets you on the chin, you're out.

He lifted the water with his bick!

The whole place cheered, even the bar owner.

Koreans, Japanese, all these nationalities.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Yay!

He let go, and it fell.

I mean, wow.

I felt like I had before… with the bird.

He lifted that jug with his bick.

How is this nation so full of such wonder and I'm only just finding out?

I made it to this age without knowing.

After that, I assumed the show had peaked.

Then he said, "Wait, here's my big brother."

His name was Arty. He was a fair-skinned guy.

He's from Isan. Sharp teeth. He seemed to love his work.

He said, "My turn."

He picked up two gallons.

These had longer ropes. Two of them.

He gave them to Bella's wife, Am.

Her husband was on one side.

Bella is a big guy.

If you watched Kao Kon La Kao, he was the MC.

Am is a very gracious person.

She doesn't get impatient.

The guy says, "Please hang them."

This was Am.

In the end, she did.

Arty's was even bigger.

Once the rope was in place…

How was it possible?

He tensed up. He counted one to ten.

While she was hanging them on,

Bella's wife looked like this.

"I don't like it. I shouldn't."

But after, it was like something had been awakened in her.

She was prancing.

Her jaw was hanging wide open.

She was teary-eyed.

For the rest of the night.

I'm not joking.

He lifted it one… ten.

Then put it down. We gave him a huge round of applause.

Other people were amazed. We saw it and had to bow.

He left the stage with a cowboy hat to collect his tips.

Okay. We gave him tips,

but I was still skeptical.

Was there some sort of brace?

Was it real? I'd only seen it.

I hadn't touched it.

While he was walking the hat around,

he came down

and up to passersby and all around.

Some gave only a little bit. Not many people tipped.

So he came to us, and we took the opportunity

to ask if it was real.

Could you take the water away?

Okay.

Try and lift it.

"Is it real?"

He was walking around getting his tips.

"Is it real?"

He wouldn't say.

Instead, he came up from behind and used his bick

to tap us on the back.

Little taps on our backs.

Like a neck and shoulder massage from behind.

This was Naew.

"I've got a knot."

Four of them went to work on her

like this was a regular service for them.

They tapped the front of her thighs. She screamed.

She was howling with joy.

The four finished up.

We were so happy, we tipped them.

We tipped about 10,000 that night.

I ran out of money.

I had to change my big bills so I could keep going.

These are special talents. We need to support them.

I had to borrow more from my staff. "Go get more money. They deserve more."

"I've never seen anything like it."

They knew now we were loving it, so they put in the extra effort.

They focused on us.

There were four sides.

They ignored them.

The Chinese barely tipped them,

so they kept coming over to us.

After their performance, more women came on.

We were leaving because I already had the greatest time of my life.

It was the best. I was so happy. She said, "Don't leave yet."

The owner was like, "Don't go yet."

"Wait for the final act. It's even better." How is that possible?

So I waited.

Then it was time for the finale.

Music came on.

Four guys came out

carrying long drums.

Long drums.

They carried the short long drums.

Can you picture it? The short kind.

There were two drums and four guys.

We thought they would entertain us.

We danced and cheered them on like it was a concert.

They came down.

One of them asked me to hit the drum.

They still didn't know it was me. "Give it a hit," he said. So I did.

It was a leather skin drum.

It hurt my hand. There was a black dot in the center.

"Give it a try."

He handed me a drum.

Then he gave one to Naew.

She took it.

Imagine you're Naew. You're holding it.

Take it in your hands.

The batter head was here.

Then he asked Naew,

"How many chas?"

Naew said, "Cha-cha-cha."

He got into position.

Took off his pants.

He used his bick… to hit the drum.

Naew didn't know how to react.

She started to dance.

He said, "Stop it. Don't dance, please."

"I hit the rim."

Then the two drums were played together.

What kind of beat is this?

I'm telling you.

I loved it.

I fell over on my back while he was doing it.

I was on the ground.

I was laughing so hard I fell off my chair.

The drumming was amazing. People thought I had collapsed.

We went wild for them.

They drummed and drummed,

and then we tipped them.

We gave them so much in tips.

But I was still dubious.

I wasn't convinced it was real.

So when they were done,

I stood up and said, "Hey,

can I touch it?"

I needed to know.

He didn't hesitate. "Sure."

He stood like this. "Go for it."

That moment right there was one of the most memorable of my life.

I stood up

and touched his bick.

Go ahead and stand for a second. You won't have to touch me.

I want you all to see how it was.

Stand up. Reach out your hand. Let's pretend.

Grab it.

This is what it was like.

I grabbed it like that,

then stroked it from base to tip.

I gave it a squeeze. I wanted to know if it was a fake.

Did they inject something? Was it a special effect?

But no, it was completely real.

I exclaimed, "Wow. This is what they call a real anaconda."

It was a handful.

I don't know what to call it.

It was like sticky rice stuffed bamboo from Nong Mon.

Or pork sausage from Ubon.

What do I call it?

And I was so mesmerized that I went into a trance.

So I talked to him with it in my hand.

"Where are you from?"

"Sa Kaeo, huh?"

"Has it always been this big?"

He told me,

"I mean, I've never tried to make it bigger."

"It's a defective trait I've had since birth." What a show-off.

I wish I was defective like that.

"Really? I'll say this from the heart."

"It was nice to meet you."

For real.

You know when you meet a foreigner, and you give them a firm handshake?

But I shook his dick.

I gave it a good squeeze. "Dang. You're amazing."

"How is it so firm?"

"I have a special technique,

but it's a secret."

We were talking like this. "How about him? Where is he from?"

One was from Bueng Kan.

Another from Savannakhet, from Laos.

I grabbed each of their mics

while I talked to them.

We had a good, long talk.

After we were done talking, we parted ways.

I was so impressed and fascinated.

I have to confess, and I'll have this edited out,

I went back to my hotel, thinking to myself the whole time,

"It can't be hard."

It was almost midnight.

I'd gone to get some khao tom after the show and got back.

So then I showered.

I stood in front of a huge mirror in the hotel.

First, I tried my glasses.

This one here.

You look sleepy. I'll stand here.

Jeez.

As soon as I hung it, it fell.

The arms nearly broke. I only have the one pair.

My lenses almost shattered. It hit the floor.

Shit. Oh, maybe it slid off because of the strap.

I bought Yakult that late afternoon.

I should start there. I pulled them out of the fridge.

I'll hang those on.

I tried two small bottles.

Jeez.

Still too heavy?

Oh, I need to empty them first.

I drank all of it.

Only the bottles and foil were left.

It still won't work.

You know what I did manage?

The foil lids.

I rolled them into semicircles. This I could do.

That whole event

has ruined the lives of the husbands of all the attendees.

Done.

We were knocked down to size.

You remember chubby Bella?

Before the show, he was the only man in his wife's life.

Then she came across something…

something better.

Now he's always complaining to me. "Since you took us to that damn show,

when we shower,

and she sees me naked, you know what she does?"

"Coo."

"Coo."

"Like adults do when they see a child naked."

"That's what she does to me. Coo."

I feel like this is a special talent.

They had said they had to hide a bar like that,

or now and then the police would come shut it down.

I thought, "Why, damn it?"

These are special and unique talents.

They have value.

Being able to use your dick

or your snatch this effectively

is no different from an English footballer

juggling a ball while walking 48 kilometers.

That's a skill of the head, right?

A Danish diver, with just one breath,

descends 202 meters and breaks the world record.

He has skillful lungs.

An American stops fan blades with her tongue.

In one minute, she removed the front of the fan

and stopped it.

With her tongue.

She went back and forth, stopping it 35 times in a minute.

She was using her talents.

If you've got a big bick, go ahead and beat a drum with it.

Or shoot birds out of your snatch.

Birds, turtles, fish.

Like the ultimate animal sanctuary.

I feel like the government needs to support it instead of hiding it away.

Don't be so prissy.

They need to support it and teach it.

Do it like with Thai massage. This is super soft power.

It's not soft power. It's super soft power.

It's the soft power of your soft bits.

Pass it on,

so people will know what all a coochy can do.

How it's like a warehouse.

The Alcazar and Tiffany shows could do more than lip-syncing.

All they do is lip-sync and joke.

They're already doing the surgery.

Might as well add more space

for other animals.

It shouldn't stop with birds. There should be crocodiles.

Foreigners love crocodiles. Or pufferfish.

Pufferfish are cute when scared.

Maybe we keep the lineup secret on some days. Make it a surprise.

Crybaby or someone comes out.

You could promote that.

And why stop at beating drums?

There are so many musical instruments out there.

What about a Thai xylophone? They can hug each other's necks?

Let's compete with the American and stop fans with our bicks.

This should be supported, not hidden away.

The tourism authority could promote it.

No need to blow hundreds of millions hiring a famous actor to be the face.

Just make TikToks. It's easy.

Invite people to come see. This is super soft power.

Take these ideas. I don't mind.

Have the people in Pattaya or Phuket say…

Make sense?

"Hello, welcome. Now show. No charge. Four hundred baht beer."

"Have show. Have pleasure. Have joy. Have fun. Have energy."

"Have girl power. Have fish. Have turtles."

"Have birds. Have crocodiles."

"Maybe pufferfish."

"Ping-pong, balloons, smoking, bananas."

"Have good Superman."

"Good Superman. Good shake hands. And you can shake dick."

"Giant dick playing the cha-cha-cha."

"Giant dick lifting water jugs."

"Giant dick giving massages. Giant dick superstar."

"Giant dick giving massages. Our giant dick never dies."

"Our giant dick is freestyle."

"Do the poor have rights?"

"But we've got dick."

"But we've got snatches."

"Let it happen, Thailand. Flip the panty switch."

"For Thai people to live comfortably, let's all stop our bullshitting now!"

Get home safely!

Get home safely!

Wake up! Thank you!