The Strip Patpong: My Personal Goodbye

March 24, 2019 By bangkok7

The Strip Patpong: My Personal Goodbye

You know the old saying. All good things must come to an end. It happened to Electric Blue, it happened to Bada Bing. It happened to my short-time girl last night. And now it’s The Strip’s turn to draw the final curtain. As Patpong gogos continue to buckle under the weight of change and get replaced with restaurants, kitchy bars, and other mainstream attractions, we lingering whoremongers must content ourselves with the remnants and our memories. Here’s my walk down past pussy lane with that soon-to-be-shuttered love shack known as The Strip…

 

What can I say about the 3rd red-light love of my life? It was EB, the Bing, and you. Back when the dancers first started sporting Supergirl shirts, and you were packed to the rafters nightly. Back when there were private booths with curtains. Back when Randy would set a bowl of peanuts down with my drink, and when it wasn’t unusual to hear New Order, Depeche Mode, and Oasis with a little GnR and ACDC mixed in.

You introduced me to so many of my favorite girls. There was Noi, known to some as SuperAss, whose ass defied all logic for being so round and perfect and huge compared to her tiny frame. Her behind, along with Mina’s who always wore a Brazilian cut g-string and did planks and crunches onstage, and Mai with her slender body and giant fake tits, Kik (aka Razorhips), New (aka Jokertatt), Rungrut (aka Twethers) and her six-pack abs, Ta (aka metal face, because of her cheek piercings) with that giant owl tattoo over her massive natural boobs, Biw (aka 12-year old because her face looked like a child’s even though she was 20) and her perfect little bootie, Noon (aka Underbite) who later got a big tomboy girlfriend and tragically packed on a few stone, Ohn, Em, Nui, Moi, Lookkai, Rose, and my all-time favorite Bow. Wow, what a roster of superstars. You sure had a knack for reeling in the hotties, many of whom enjoyed taking selfies with my phone.

Remember when I used to have pizza delivered? Those were the nights when I’d roll in at 7:00 and stay till closing. No need to darken the door of any other gogo when all my favorite people were under your roof. That’s when I got in the habit of bringing lollipops for the girls. Sweets for the sweeties. Oh, and cheap jewelry at Christmas. Such was my adoration for those lovely sex kittens. Back then, you stocked the fridge with Belgian beers like Palm, Witte, and Kwak. Talk about an excellent combo: great beers, beautiful babes, sweet tunes, and pizza delivered. I almost felt like a family affair, and it was everything a man could ask for.

Then when Toby took over promotions, things really got kicked into 12th gear. Drink specials, VIP cards, and every night something crazy happened. Girls would get naked, someone would light the bar on fire, there’d be a snake show with a girl and a big yellow python, or a shower show with soapy boobies pressed against the glass. Hooooo doggies, it was a good time. For my friends and me, it was all we could do to make it through the work day, counting the minutes till we could plop down on a stool next to that emerald green stage and take in the spectacle. You were the little gogo that could. Barely big enough to seat 40, but so supremely entertaining that crowds clamored to get in nightly. Which is why we had to arrive so early. If we waited till after 8:00 we’d be stuck standing in the corner.

That synchronicity of the senses—of all aspects of a venue coming together in perfect symmetry—is rare, and has not been matched anywhere else in the red-light. And the cherry on the top of that sexy sundae was the great attitude of the girls and the staff. Everyone was always so friendly and welcoming, and the dancers let us get away with murder. I could pull a girl’s shorts off and wear them on my head, and nobody would mind, least of all the girl I stole them from. In those days, I wasn’t averse to trying to sneak a finger into the bum of the vixen sitting next to me, with total impunity. I guess those days are over. But ohhh, the fun we had.

I shall have to find a new bar to end the night in now, though I’ll admit, I’m kind of excited to see what grows up in your place. Ostensibly, you’re closing for “renovation.” I guess technically there’s a small chance you’ll reopen as a gogo with a different name, though it’s more likely that you’ll be something….else. If I had to guess, I might say…gin bar? Either way, I hope it absorbs the vibe from your roots. I hope the people are as fun and congenial, and the atmosphere as warm and homey as yours. Even if there are no dancing girls, I’ll still swing by every now and again to reminisce. Meanwhile, I imagine your roster will relocate to Black Pagoda and the new Radio City when it opens, so no worries there. And we all saw this coming. Video killed the radio star, and Tinder killed the gogo. The times, they are a changin’ and we all have to adapt. For me, that means less places to monger and more gin joints, food, and stogies on patios. So to The Strip—you’re not sentient, but I want to say fare thee well. I’ll miss you, you sweet lusty thing. Thanks for the memories.

 

Before we part ways, here’s a Quick Patpong Update:

With the closing of the gay soi off Surawong Road, a handful of gay bars have popped up in the Pong. The most recent is the still-under-construction “Dreamboy Paradiso” on Soi 2. There was also a persistent rumor that Radio City would reopen as a gay gogo, however after some investigation, I learned that it’s actually a smaller gogo that’s been closed since the Goldfinger days that will rise from the rubble as a new gay bar, and Radio City will in fact be a regular gogo stocked with girls, despite the insistence of various locals that it’ll be a live music venue. There’s a gogo stage in the center of the room, so that pretty much seals it.

One upside of closing gogos is, the girls are forced to crowd into the few remaining bars, which is nice. It also means that when new girls arrive fresh from the country, they’re easier to find. Pink Panther, Black Pagoda, Glamour, and both King’s Castles have a ton of new faces. So, something-something silver lining.

Speaking of Black Pagoda, this Saturday is their 10th anniversary party. It’s gonna be huge, so don’t miss it. Tune in Friday for a Frowback article, and between now and then, keep your balls clean, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the best country on Earth. Peace!