Today is my first day of sobriety – again!!
Yes, I drank yesterday, but not to excess – about six bottles of beer as far as I can recall.
Today I feel fine – no hangover, and had a pretty good night’s sleep. So today is probably the best opportunity I will have to to stop drinking again as I do not need any ‘hairs of the dog’ to make me feel better.
If I do decide to continue my drinking today, I know from experience that I will gradually drink more and more as my alcohol tolerance returns to ‘pre-sobriety” levels.
One of the reasons I have been sleeping so well is because I have been sleeping with a real, multi-orgasmic nymphomaniac for the past two days who has also helped to keep my mind off the subject of drinking. But at my age I can’t keep it up, (no pun intended), and I will probably have to pass on her tonight. I’m bloody exhausted!
So I’ll just have to see how I get on.
MOBI’S STORY – (PART 31)
THE RETIREMENT YEARS (CONTINUED)
“It’s time for wife number 5”
The memories and pain of my bad experiences with Mei was slowly extinguished by copious volumes of alcohol and a never ending parade of bar girls through my bedroom at my impressive apartment, just off Soi 15, in Sukhumvit Road.
After a while, I rotated about half a dozen ‘favourites, and as my drinking became more and more excessive, the occasions when I would go home alone, became ever more frequent, and if I did have a girl accompany me, I would be totally incapable of doing anything. They became ‘sleeping companions’, rather than lovers.
I suppose you could say I was pretty lucky to have survived that period without suffering any injuries to myself, or indeed getting mugged in the early hours, as I staggered down the road searching for a taxi, or occasionally, searching for my rented car. I lived quite close to the ‘action’ but had enough sense on most days to leave my car at home; but there were days when I started drinking earlier than planned, and thus had my car with me, and then had to drive home in the early hours when disgustingly intoxicated. Not a great idea.
I recall one particular occasion when I lurched along the road in search of my car which was parked on Soi 33, only to find that it wouldn’t move when I clambered in and cranked up the engine. Upon closer and undoubtedly drunken inspection, I discovered that I had been clamped! Then found a police ticket on the windscreen, and staggered down the road clutching it in my hand, hoping to find some cop who would agree to un-clamp me.
As luck would have it I came across a bunch of them, seated at a table outside one of the bars, (It was way past closing time – of course), getting stuck into bottles of Thai whiskey. I wandered over to them, manically waving my ticket. They obligingly took a look at it and informed me that they could do nothing and that I had to go to Thonglor police station. It was around 3.a.m. and I was completely sloshed, but in my drunken stupor, I saw nothing amiss or foolish about hailing a taxi, and getting him to take me to the cop shop at Thong Lor. I staggered into the police station, waved my ticket at anyone who might take an interest and the desk sergeant, being unusually indulgent with a drunken farang, indicated that I should take it upstairs.
I was finally led into the office of a high ranking officer who had his sergeant take a copy of the copy of my passport, which I fortunately always carried with me. He didn’t ask to see my driving licence, but he did tell me to pay a fine of five hundred baht. I was clearly very drunk, but no one seemed to care – they just wanted their five hundred baht. After I was handed a receipt for my fine, I had the temerity to ask the officer if my car would now be un-clamped so that I could drive it home. He asked me where it was located, and then made a call on his mobile, and told me that by the time I got back to my car, the clamps would have been removed.
It probably should have occurred to me that the police might be awaiting the arrival of a drunk driver and pounce on him, but my luck held, and when the taxi dropped me next to my car I scrambled into the seat and drove home.
The next day, when I sobered up, I realised that I had been very foolish and was lucky not to be in jail, or dead.
As the days and weeks passed, I started to gravitate to a bar just off Soi 33, called the Office Bar. Some of you who live in Bangkok may know of it. In those days it was in its infancy, not having been open long, but the volume and quality of the ladies it attracted made it an overnight success. It was a cut above most of the bars in that area, as were the ladies who flocked to work there: sometimes dressed very provocatively in micro minis or in skirts with splits to the upper thighs, and on other occasions looking very elegant in figure hugging evening dresses.
One thing soon became very clear. The most beautiful ladies in this joint never lasted very long. They were soon snapped up as ‘live-ins’, or even future wives by the better off farangs who had more money than sense – just like Mobi.
I took a few home and at length I became quite keen on one slightly more mature lady; her name was Jum; she was quite sophisticated and was in her early thirties. Jum spoke good English and I soon struck up a good, very friendly relationship with her. In retrospect, she would have probably made a very good long term partner. But it wasn’t to be.
One night I went to meet her, but was told she was off that day (“off” usually being a euphemism for ‘otherwise engaged’), so in my usual ‘Mobi huff’, I looked around the bar for an alternative. It was quite early and as was the custom, there was a long row of lovely ladies standing and sitting behind the bar awaiting customers to invite them for drinks.
At the end of the line I spotted a very pretty girl who I had not seen before. She must have been new. I smiled at her and she returned my smile with a shy grin. I beckoned for her to come and sit down with me, and saw that she was indeed very beautiful. She was Dang, a lovely girl from Sa kaeo. Dang spoke no English and told me that this was her third day at work and that she had never worked in a bar before. (I found out much later that this was one of the few occasions when she actually told me the truth.).
It didn’t take long to ask her to go home with me, and so it was that my new, fateful, traumatic relationship, which was lead to my fifth disastrous marriage and to last almost seven years, was to begin.
Much later I was to briefly see Jum again back at the Office Bar, and she came over to say hello, and she told me that she had made a huge mistake by not being there the night that I met Dang. She said that she was very sad that she had let me get away, and assured me that she would have made a very good and loyal wife.
Whether or not that was true, I will never know. The fickle finger of fate had already dealt the latest hand of cards to a luckless, alcoholic Mobi.