Patpong Rewind for the Week of June 26, 2022

We’re on the cusp, folks. In a week’s time, the floodgates will open and tourism will return to Thailand finally fully unhindered by stupid, brain-dead, ridiculous, retarded Covid restrictions. For a gogo hound like me, it’s bittersweet. I loathe tourists, so this marks the end of a blessed respite from cunts the world over jostling my drinking arm as they stumble over themselves to look like assholes in the red-light. But for my friends who dance in said gogos, it means a return to financial stability, prosperity, and wholeness. And that I can’t help but applaud. But I will relish this last week of semi-populated sois and barely-barfined babes before it all goes back to normal and I’m once again plagued by the presence of pricks parading through my paradise like part-time proctologists.

The optimism is palpable in Patpong, where the perma-smiles have returned to the girls’ faces and I’m once again regarded with envy and anger by randos who wonder why I can take photos and shake titties like I own ‘em while being handed free drinks by the bartenders and walking out on my checkbin without recourse. I leave it to the girls to explain to them that I’m Seven, and I can do what I want.

Speaking of, I once again bought dinner for the girls all seven nights last week. We’ve fallen into a pattern, the girls, the vendors, and I. Khun Panom, the somtam lady, and the moo taut dude time their arrival in the Pong with mine, and set up where they can make eye contact with me every time a gogo dancer, bar staffer, or hostess places an order. And every time, I give a nod to let them know it’s on my tab. Why? You might ask. Why, Seven, do you fork over your hard-earned cash to feed these scurrilous sirens? Is it to curry favor? To show off? Is it because you have a heart of gold that shines with the warmth of the sun itself? None of the above. It’s because when it comes to Thais—especially Thai girls in bikinis—I can’t say no to them. Ridiculous, I know. But we all have our weaknesses and red-light gogo girls are mine. Also, the total bill on a given night is around $25.

The big news comin’ outa Patpong last week was 1—the friskiness of barkers and baud on Soi 1 and 2—the bitchin’ beach party in XXX at the weekend. Thanks to Thigh Bar reopening as a ping pong show, the soi that once was home to the night market is back to peddling poontang with a total now of three ping pongs, plus the two King’s Castle gogos, Radio City, Tip-Top, and Derby King. I reckon when the tourists are back in force, the Muzik live music bar will reopen, along with Safari. That’ll bring Soi 1 back to nearly 50% function. No idea yet what’ll happen to the north half of the soi. There was talk pre-scamdemic of a beer garden but that’s probably no longer in the cards. It won’t stay dark, though. That wouldn’t make sense. Constant rain put a literal damper on Pong activity in the middle of the week. I mostly coasted, smoking a cigar or two with a glass of Chivas, popping from King’s 1 to Pink Panther and The Strip, and every gogo in between. ‘Twas a quiet-ish time for ole Seven. The girls had a good time, though, teasing and coaxing tourists who go from pretend reluctance to short-timing like Dr. Jekylls and Mr Perverts. Also, the couples pushing their toddlers in strollers are back in Patpong, to the bafflement of everyone. When the giant Muslim families in full burkas return to the red-light, we’ll know things are back to pre-Covid norms.

XXX’s beach party was a smash it, despite a torrential deluge Friday night that flooded the soi. The manager decorated the joint with palm fronds and actual beach sand, and the girls donned teeny weeny bikinis. “Twas enough to stir the loins of even the most jaded aging gogo rat. And the beer special–70b M bottles plus bogo–put a perma-smile on my face for two days.

On Saturday night I’d planned to hit Nana Plaza, partially for a change of scenery and partially to rate their busy-ness, but when push came to shove I couldn’t be bothered to schlep over there, and instead met up with Jack Nites who was popping between gogos taking photos of the girls. And I was glad I stuck around because the party in the Pong was raucous, what with day 2 of XXX Lounge’s beach party and the girls of The Strip donning gold bikinis. I can’t post pics here because I’m running out of storage space on my hosting site and I’m too stingy to spring for more, so for a photo slideshow of the fun, check out

That’s all the Pongmonger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of red-light events. In the meantime, you can read more mainstream material (food and bar reviews) on my Substack:

A video montage of last week’s Patpong soirees can be found at our members only site:

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Until next time, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.