Ping Pong Balls, Not a Child’s Game, Bangkok, Thailand

T hat reminiscent sound takes me back to the neighborhood friend’s house who had the big backyard large enough for a swimming pool, volleyball net and a foldaway Ping Pong table that I spent my summer spiking down opponent after opponent with a quick slice of the paddle, twirling my white speeding ball across the green table and cunningly passing undetected by the slow moving adversary. But I suddenly flash forward ten years and that childhood sound of the plastic hollow ball bouncing off the floor is not the innocuous sounds of yesteryear. The glistening pong ponging off the darkly lit concrete floor is the new ping for my adult psyche–enticing me with every bounce into the playfulness of Bangkok’s Ping Pong show.

Now at twenty-four the sound holds more than the beating down of every neighborhood kid that could hold a paddle. It holds a cradle of creation mixed in with the sweet underpinning of Thailand’s sex trade industry, with a hint of gleeful, almost basic, lustful curiosity of how a hole can be filled with inanimate objects and then expelled out with just the force of a Kegel muscle.

This attraction wasn’t what I came to see when I booked my flight to Thailand with a long time buddy of mine, Sean. We had a month to explore the country, its people and its tradition. But I guess with all things, time has a way of kinda bending sights and minds to a lesser, more basic human practicality. It wasn’t that we were deprived of having relations; there were a handful of fellow travelers that became more than a helpful guide or a nice quiet talk. But when surrounded by the mystique of certain trades and industries, it sadly begins to rub off and another item appears on your “Things To See” list.

So we had to explore. And like every good explorer we dug in deep.

Pat Pong, the red light district of Bangkok. If you’re looking for sleazy and very easy then this is the place. Happy Ending massage parlors, sex shows, who-knows-what-she’s-carrying-prostitutes, all for dirt cheap.

Seeing that attaining an STD and statutory rape wasn’t in our agenda we opted out for the cheap sex with the made-up porn style, short skirt wearing 12 year olds. And decided to take in a show.

“The Ping Pong Show.” A ping pong show in Pat Pong, the red light district?…hhmm, the only thing that comes to mind when hearing that is not the denotative meaning of the slogan, how can it be!? Seriously, amongst all the wet groins, hard nipples, and used latex smells around here an innocent Ping Pong show is definitely out of the question. It is more like who and what can be performed with a ping pong ball.

So now that our curiosity was stirred, we pay the man at the front $20 USD.

As we enter we see: tall, blond and non-asian looking people occupied the chairs on the floor. The locals worked serving drinks and worked the customers.

It seems that the prelude to the main event were the girls that seemed to be more like fluffers than anything. Teasing, groping, and laughing with us; there only aim was to rid us of our bills. And they practically did through every method their little hands and groins can grab, tease and grind on us.

But as we held back with our cash their smiles and inhibitions seemed to falter. They slumped down to their chairs with head on hand, bored out of their wits. Not saying a word to us or each other, they only solemnly looked aimlessly to the crowd. Sean and I just looked at each other, stiff—afraid if we moved the whole fake carousel would wind up and their plastic smiles and jeers will be all over us again.

Then suddenly cheesy “Pow-Too-Too-Pow-Pow” music came on. This prompted the playful marionette girls to stand in attention and strut their way on to the center stage.

We looked at each other and just raised our eyebrows as to say “what just happened?” The girls though seemed to have left a void in the air, a wanting, and a desire to take. The craving of easy flesh that can be obtained only through monetary exchange was out of hand—drives moral people up the wall—it’s a good thing we weren’t any of the sort but unfortunately, and fortunately, for us we only had enough cash for a drink and cab…

The girls looking like low budget skinny Asian porn actresses, danced to melodious beats of the sultry music. One girl danced slowly bending her legs and lowering her ass to the stage, following the beats of the tempo, dropping suddenly on her back. Her hips raised in the air, gyrating, as her skirt became a belt wrapping around her waist. As her groin circled the air, it went faster as the music crescendo. Thrusting into the air with quick rapid movements. Then suddenly as the music reached its peak and on cue a white ping pong ball shot from between her legs clear across the room.

I faintly heard the sound of it hitting the ground underneath the din of sexual depravity. Pong: I heard and remembered the feeling of the paddle and the smile I once wore after defeating kid after kid. Pong: now the sound is associated with a new game that seems more intriguing than table tennis. And as I was contemplating life and its many virtues and non-virtues, the bass from the music was pounding rapidly again and another girl with her legs spread apart, ass and hips in the air, was pulling, what seemed to be, a precious jeweled necklace from her not-so-privates.

Music peaks once more and another ball is shot across the room. Bouncing onto the darkly lit floor.

Photo: NYCviaRachel