Favourite Worst Nightmare

A stubbly, bony faced bloke in black Ray Bans' and a 1990s Manchester United shirt treads past slowly with a slight stoop, hands in his faded jean pockets. You notice him stop and scan the cafe you’re sat in from the busy street outside. He looks a bit malnourished, you think, taking a little sip of your piping cappuccino.

Next thing you know, out of all the possible tables, he zones in on yours. Looking up from your whipped coffee froth, you see he’s already ambling his spiky way over, straight to you.

“Alright mate, name’s Mark.”

He lifts his Ray Bans with finger and thumb for a brief moment, revealing aggravated bloodshot eyes like half drunk Margaritas behind his cold Manchester drawl, reminding you of why you left England to travel the world. You reluctantly shake his sweaty hand. He’s stretching the traveller’s code to the utter limit.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

You acquiesce with a non-committal grunt and he does just that, waiting for you to say something more. He puts a cigarette to his lips, lights it, and offers you one which you refuse. Taking a deep puff, he looks around restlessly, sighing, fingers tapping on the table top.

“Thailand, aye, what a place? And where would Thailand be without Khaosan Road? Aye mate... Where would the world be? Don’t you think? Its great ‘ere... innit?”

You both yawn, followed by an uncomfortable pause.

“Yeah I’ve been here for a while mate...”

He chuckles a little to himself.

“How did you guess? What’s that mate? How long? Wouldn’t want to reveal that information mate, trade secret, you know...”

Another uncomfortable pause.

He makes a phony little cough to break the silence.

“But I love it here mate, absolutely love it, don’t you? Just take a look around mate. Over there, you see those apartments up there...”

He points to an indistinct block, some way in the distance.

“The little breeze block squares with the washing hanging out, they’re the ones, yeah. The old-bill all live up there mate, no joke, just up there in those right baking little shit holes. Imagine that. Law and order my arse.”

Another uncomfortable pause, and he's pointing again.

“It's a right laugh here mate. I mean, just opposite to the fuzz, they’ve only gone and put Gulliver’s.”

He's pointing just across from the police station; to a large entrance with a plush little stairway on the corner of the street.

“Haven’t you been there yet, mate? Oh dear no, you’re missing out there mate, you’ve got to check out Gulliver’s. When I first came here I didn’t go anywhere else for a year, I swear. The women. Sure they’re not the nicest birds in the world, but they’re alright... clean mostly, and a good laugh, you know. They’re friendly, and they don’t ask for much. Guaranteed a good time mate, check it out.”

He begins to relax into the chair, stretching his arms behind his head.

“The thing I love about this bloody place is, it’s really got it all. And everyone just lets it all happen. Anything can happen here mate, believe me. Absolutely anything. The police up there, they don’t give a shit, they’ve hardly got a pot to piss in you know what I mean? It’s all about money it is. It’s all “nevermind”. Bloody “nevermind” all day long. You know what they all say don’t you...”

He says something in incomprehensible “Thai” that you can’t understand, presumably it means “nevermind”. You notice a nearby waiter glancing in your direction, raising his eyebrows and shaking a long suffering head.

“Yeah, as long as they get their five hundred Baht in their back pocket, they’re happy as Larry, see? It’s all kickbacks, under the table stuff, that's how everything works here. And just look around; have you ever seen so many fookin backpackers in one place? Look at them all waddling about with their fuck-off bags, carrying God knows what. I mean, do they really need all that shite, best things a good knife and a wad of cash.”

He pops a chewing gum in his mouth and begins to chew frantically. Then he leans over to you with a minty whisper.

“Between me and you mate, they’re not going to need half that shite, and the other half’ll only get nicked anyway.”

He shakes his head with practised disgust.

“Flapping about here and there, just looking for a good time at the end of the day.”

He flaps his arms and raises his shoulders like a penguin. Then he sighs, ceasing his display when his eyes catch your backpack resting against the table.

“Oh, sorry mate. Just like you, innit mate? But you'll have a good time, don't you worry.”

He sits back in his chair, looking deflated and a little disappointed. Then he perks up again.

”But round here its just wicked mate, you know? Sooo many bloody good bars and restaurants ‘round here mate. And that’s just the start, believe me. That's nothing. It’s all here mate. All here for the taking. Aye...”

His wink promises dirt, but you joke to yourself, thinking “I'd pay to clean that mess up.” Even so, he is continuing.

“Believe me, I know it mate. I’ve lived here. You know I mean, I know what goes on.”

Suddenly, he's extremely serious, his earnestness on this point definitely not to be toyed with.

A waitress appears fotuitously to break things up. He winks his seedy little wink at you again, and then smiles up at her. The stare he lumps her with her lasts far longer than seems appropriate, almost deteriorating into a leer and making her shift uncomfortably on the spot.

Finally he asks “What you name love?”

Then he says something in incomprehensible “Thai”. The flummoxed waitress doesn’t respond.

“My name John. Nice to meet you.”
Once again, he extends his sweaty palm.

“It’s all right love, you can shake my hand. I’m a good man, me, gen-tell-man, take care good, you know... I'm alright. So maybe you and me go for drink some time. What you think? Yeah, I buy you drink, we talk. Sure. What’s that, you have boyfriend already? Oh, you busy study university. Ok, nevermind, nevermind love. Large Beer Chang. Yup.”

Followed by more incomprehensible Thai.

The waitress flashes you a bemused conspiratorial smile, and quickly brings him a large bottle of beer before making her timely escape. He chugs it deeply in front of you, burping and exhaling loudly as if it were water in the dessert.

“Yeah mate, see, stick around and you learn how things work here, get a bit of the lingo and culture, you know what I mean. See I said...”

He speaks more incomprehensible “Thai”,

“...and that means “thankyou” in Thai’s language. Yeah...”

Even more incomprehensible “Thai”.

“...just like that. I can teach you a bit of Thai if you like, just stick with me. I also know a few swear words but you wanna be bloody careful here mate. No shit, if you piss a Thai off, you’re dead.”

He slits his throat with his forefinger.

“That’s it mate, just like that. Coz it’s their culture see; they all know each other, and they all help each other out. If you piss one of them off, his mates all come running, see. They’re all around..” he waves his hands across the air, palms down, and turns his face from side to side dramatically, like he was telling a ghost story “...yeah, in the shadows like... but you’ll never see them until it’s too late. And they know how to beat the shit out of you. Believe me.”

He hastily chugs his beer again. Then he twiddles his thumbs nervously.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought they’re different from us, they do things different, and you can’t get close to a Thai, just not possible mate.”

He sighs.

“I’ve tried, believe me. You know, you can take your pick of the lot here mate. And of course I tried a few girlfriends out for a while, but could never get on with their bloody families and that. And they always want you to meet their bloody families right away, you know? Fucking pain in the arse like. They just sit around eating and talking all the time, that’s all they do. Don’t get me wrong they take care of you and all that; bring you beers and give you food and all that. But they don’t talk to you, and I just get sick of all their bloody spicy salads and meaningless laughing. The most I ever understood was the time one of them bought a lottery ticket, just a lottery ticket, and she must’ve spent more than two thousand Bhat. My two thousand Bhat, you know what I mean. ”

He pushes his thumb in his chest harshly, his grin flipping into an abused grimace.

“Well they were all just sitting there laughing their heads off, and I said “What’s up?” and they just sat there, couldn’t stop it, you know, it were building itself up like. So I said “nah, come on, tell what’s so fucking funny? I want to know.” And you’ll never guess, but she’d only gone and lost the bloody two thousand Bhat. And I said “Why so funny? I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you” and one them managed to say “No, you money, not she, ha ha ha!” And I thought, blimey I could teach you a thing or two. Learn to speak a bit of fucking English before you start all this Harry Enfield bollocks on me. What the fuck? Aye mate, fucking ridiculous these Thai’s can be let me tell you.”

He sits in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then he leans forward, grinning like a school boy.

“Still I suppose it’s ok really mate, 'coz at least between a Thai and one of us farang, they know who the better man is, see.”

He points at you and at himself in the chest, following his fingers with his eyes, winking and chuckling silently. Completely barmy, you think.

“Do you know that word mate? You need to know that if you’re going to live here. “Farang”, that’s what they call us. Oh, you read about it in your Lonely Planet. Cool. Well let me tell you mate, it’s great; us farang, we’re like Gods here. They know we’ve got the dosh and we’ve got the know-how, so they sort of worship us. Being worshipped’s something you can come to appreciate. Just enjoy it mate, just enjoy it and think about all your mates stuck back in bloody England.”

He savours his laughter like a villain, and chugs his beer, which is almost empty now.

“And if you’re thinking about teaching here mate, I can tell you about that too, ‘coz I’ve tried that as well. Did some months a couple of years ago in a little place just ‘round here I did. Yup, I’ve tried everything here mate; I’ve been everywhere and I’ve done all the stuff you can do in this country. Just ask me. I’ve been trekking, gone diving, done all that bollocks. Good for a laugh, and I always say you should try new things. So one cheeky night I even got meself some lovely Ladyboys...”

He draws the curves for you with his hands, up and down with a little wobble in the middle.

“...and I had me a couple of steaming threesomes. Can you believe that, mate? Seriously, all true. Every word.”

He winks, chuckles briefly, then whistles a long note of satisfaction.

“Dreams, mate. They come true here, you just have to let them’s all. And if ladyboys aren’t you’re thing, or if you’re into drugs and all that shite, I can help you there mate, I know all about that. Me I’ve smoked opium in the jungle and taken yaa baa at the full moon party, yeah all that shite. Christ mate, that’s just the half of it, just the simple, green nosed bollocks you read in the Lonely Planet. The best I’ve ever done is taken mushrooms on the top of Mount” he says something in incomprehensible “Thai”, “and I can tell you mate, if you ever get ‘round to that one, then you’ll know exactly how much bullshit there is in this fucking world and what life really means. You better believe mate, fucking hell and I wont say another word on that matter.”

Suddenly you notice how he’s crushing his index finger onto the table like a dead cigarette, his face contorted like he’s swallowing a bitter pill. For some reason it makes you think of asylum escapes. Then he coughs deeply, blowing your dark thought out of it’s brief water. Next thing he’s bringing up noisy phlegm. It rattles his whole frame for an uncomfortable couple of moments. You almost feel sorry for him.

“Anyway, whatever... right mate? I’ve done it all, and you know what; I still come back here to Khaosan road. This is the best place. Sure it’s dirty and noisy and full of people trying to sell you shit you don’t want; little wooden frogs and all that shite. But look at the birds mate, just look around. All these lovely farang birds.”

His words have suddenly become musical; he’s singing you a hymn of sorts, your realise.

“Swedes and Dutch chicks, Yanks too and even the odd English rose. I love farang birds.”

He sighs and chugs some more beer, only a few drops left in the bottle surely.

“Still, I haven’t pulled one in years,” chugging his beer again to the last drop, “but fuck it, I do alright.”

He twiddles his thumbs again for a moment, elbows on the table and legs deep under, stretched out and waiting for something.

“What about you mate? You got a bird?”

Then he looks over, noticing the approaching blond. He whispers conspiratorially to you with his beer breath.

“Oh, is that her just come from the toilets mate. Yeah well done mate, she’s definitely a bit of alright mate. Nice bod and all, she’s a pure fittie. English isn’t she?”

You nod, and as she arrives, he addresses her directly.

“Have a seat love?”

He rushes to pull over a chair from a nearby table, getting displeased glances from the quiet Japanese occupants whom he completely ignores.

“Don’t mind me, love, sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

She makes a point of not sitting down, instead bending over and whispering something to you, looking anxiously over at him. You nod at her sound words. Then you say goodbye to him politely, shake his hand and begin to pick up your bags, taking your leave.

“Oh OK mate, so you’ll be going. OK, that’s fine...”

Utterly disingenuous, his tone has suddenly changed. It's like he's talking down to you, seated there comfortably like the King of little England, or how you imagine Roy Keane might sit all day long, noticing the name on the back of his Man Utd shirt.

“Are you sure you and your girl don’t fancy a beer? I can give you some travel advice if you like? Or we can just chill. Go on mate, get into the spirit mate. Go on; just have a good time, enjoy yourselves. Come on, you’re on holiday...”

Clearly, his line of argument is irrefutable, but despite his words you can hear the friendliness dissipating from his voice like a bucket with a knife hole in it. She looks you sharply in the eye, and you nod, continuing to pick up your backpacks.

“What’s that mate? You have a bus to catch? Oh you’re going to Cambodia? Oh, right… very interesting mate, no I never made it over there mate. Well you could have a beer before you go, couldn’t you? Come on, don’t be rude. Oh alright mate, yeah OK mate I get it. Jesus, your missus is a bit serious ain’t she? Bit of a strumpy one you’ve got there. Ok love, don’t overdo it, Ok? Just being friendly. Ok, Ok, I see where you’re coming from, sure. Yes, I know what time it is... I guess a beer before breakfast isn’t for everyone... Shit, you don’t have to run off like that, fucking bitch. Just being friendly, starting some interesting conversation, not that you'd know what that’s all about. Well fuck you then. Live and let live, that’s what I say...”