When in Thailand...

So if you were to ask anyone, anyone at all, what the one thing to do in Thailand is, they would all undoubtedly say the same thing.

Brothel.

Now fear not, this bar/brothel, somewhat hilariously known as The Can Do bar, specializes in empowering sex workers. So we weren't dealing with the scummy prostitutes you're probably used to (the mid-forties, skin tight leopard patterned pants, the race between the chest and the midriff to see which can sag to the knees first, the singed nose hairs). These were proud prostitutes, who do fantastic things for their society. But my story is not of them.

Our professor had brought us to this bar earlier in the week so we could get a sense for the good work they were doing. After the fantastic meeting, we decided that we needed to support their cause. Seeing as their main source of income came from two things, we had a choice to make. We needed to become their customers, either sexually or alcoholically. Our instincts and our morals decided on the latter.

As such, we disbanded from our evening class in need of a drink or many. This, we decided, was our opportunity to give back to those who had...this statement can only go poorly.

We attempted to find the 17 year old chap, a relative of our evening class' professor, in order to invite him to accompany us to this brothel. He, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found.

Nine of us on the curb (teehee), we flagged down a Song Tau and immediately realized we had no idea where our brothel was located. One of us decided, after multiple attempts at naming landmarks around the Can Do Bar (who wants to tell the middle aged Thai gent driving you that the nine of you would like to hit up the brothel), we decided to look it up on the internets. Our destination acquired, we were off.

Approaching our destination, we were met with the frightful fact that the bar, though open, was entirely empty. How could this be? we wondered. Is this not a place in which two of mankind's favorite joys can be purchased almost simultaneously? For shame humanity, for shame. So we walked in anyway.

One of the women recognized us and proceeded to hand over even worse news. Not only were we the only party, but, though the alcohol was readily available, cocktail mixers were missing. As such, it was shots, mixed drinks, or beer. I, then, opted for the large bottle of Chiang Beer.

Now what's important to know here is that Chiang Beer has a high alcohol level for a beer, and that the large is, well, quite large.

After mopping the floor with the competition in pool, and after downing my bottle of Chiang, I was both confident, and at the amazingly silly phase of buzzed-ness. We made plans at this point to vacate our current position and head to another night spot for dancing and more boozing. Waiting for my friend to pay their tabs, and having drank a beer, I noticed a pack of cigarettes on the table. Now I'm not an avid smoker, but I must admit, the two go well together. However, this pack was not mine, and I knew not who it belonged to. That’s when the kleptomaniac in me crept out. I slyly snagged a cigarette, and knowing that the best thing to do post-theft is to leave the scene of the crime, I made my way towards the door.

In a euphoric moment of decision making, I chose to jump down the one stair out of the bar. When my sandals rejoined the tile flooring, they refused to land firmly, but rather to shoot out from under me, causing the remainder of my body to crash, ungracefully, onto the ground. Laying there, I could only think to myself: Great, I went to a brothel and ended up on my back.

It wasn't until later that I broke my littlest toe.