Pay to play

On Thursday we arrived back at the hotel after a very long day. Ann is dead tired and so am I but getting to sleep before 1AM is never an option for me. We see a bar next to the hotel with a crowd of Indians and Filipinos waiting to get in. Ann urges, “You have to go and give me a full report.” Everything that follows is Ann’s fault because I was more than willing to go to the hotel room, take an Ambien and call it a night.

I stood ten feet from the bar’s entrance and watched. The guys begged to get in. A very finely dressed woman approached and was let in without question. I thought, “Oh, if only Ann were with me we’d be in by now.”

Shortly after 3 white guys emerged with a Filipina who was clearly a prostitute. I started laughing and the three Filipino guys next to me found that funny.

Then a white guy came up and asked, “Where are you from?” He said he was from Scotland and followed with “Are you waiting to get in here?”

I replied, “Kinda.”

I found out since I was staying at the Novotel I automatically get in.

Score!

We walk up three flights of stairs and enter the bar. The bar needs description: There’s a band with six Filipina women singing cover songs. They are wearing red panties and bras and other than the occasional body piercing, nothing else.

Despite the crowd out front, the bar inside is mostly white. Check that. The men are mostly white. The women are 100% Filipinas and dressed to kill. I looked long and hard and there was not a western woman to be found. Had Ann joined me she would have been unique.

The guy leading me in takes me to the bar and buys me a Bud. We are quickly swarmed. I’ve never had so many women caressing my arm, chest and ass. The guy with me is in search of a specific woman. He asks around for her and finds her. He’s also asking for her “special friend.” I was too stupid to realize that he was asking for the special friend for me.

The special friend arrived and she gave me the works. I don’t think there’s a body part between my knees and eyes that was not caressed. I tried my best to say I’m engaged and my fiancé is back in the hotel room… but nothing worked. I finally had to walk run away.

The Scot was upset at rebuff.  He insisted I tell her that she is very attractive and that I’m sorry I’m not up for it tonight.

I’ve been to bars with hookers. I’ve never been to a bar where the ratio of men to hookers was 2:1. There were at least 100 prostitutes in this place and at least 20 of them gave me a touch or feel to let me know I’m special.

I swear to God I’m not making this up: The songs the cover band – wearing panties and bras – played in the short time I was there were, “How do I get you alone?” and Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer… a Dancer for Money” As I was quickly heading to the exit the six singing performers were doing a demonstration of their yoga abilities. At least that’s what I told myself as all six laid on their backs and pulled their legs behind their ears.

I will become tired of living abroad if I don’t have new experiences. It’s safe to say tonight will keep me satiated for months.

My greatest regret of the night: I didn’t find out how much time with the “special friend” would have cost.