A couple days ago on the night bike tour of Bangkok, we visited Wat Pho, the temple where Thai people have been going to learn the art of massage for hundreds of years. Inscribed on it's walls are diagrams of bodies, with written text on what to do with what part. Well, centuries of knowledge passed down for generations finally culminated in its ultimate purpose yesterday, with me getting my very first Thai massage. It hurt like fuck, was awkward as all hell, but I still came out feeling oddly good. When I called to reserve it, (the place was called Soul Leaf) the woman on the phone asked if I wanted a man or woman. I told her I don't care, which of course ended up meaning "Dude please." Never having a Thai massage before, I really had no idea how comically intimate the whole thing is.
The first thing the guy does was to oh-so-gingerly wash my feet, gently and slowly like we're in an R&B video. After that, I laid on my back, and it wasn't too long before the guy is essentially dry-humping me while he has my leg bent in some unholy position. I tried not to laugh, which was easy since no part of the massage was devoid of pain. I started to get a little concerned, since I realized the guy was looking dead at me the whole time, and every time I would glance at him, he would kinda laugh. So, like a rape victim, I just stared at the ceiling praying he didn't kill me. The whole thing was about 90 minutes, during which time I was just counting the clock for it to be over, but when it was finally done, I felt pretty damn good.
Later, my mom and I went for a walk around town where I went to a dive restaurant Nora and David took me to earlier, but didn't have much luck with what I ordered. At night, we went to a restaurant my friend Mark Morgan suggested - Wong's Place - but it was closed. So, we went to Vertigo, a bar on the 61st floor of an upscale hotel. It was actually on the roof, making it a pretty exhilarating experience, which we paid dearly for with over-priced drinks.
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