After two years of dormancy, Muth Musings is back - the underground stuff too risque for our other blog. So keep this on the down-low, please, but do pass it along to those that are interested.

Ping Pong Show (Bangkok, Thailand)

An endless parade of disinterested performers took their turn pole-side. To turn up the heat, if you will, they awkwardly stepped back-and-forth, in some sort of rhythmic half-dance. Not quite robotic, but far from inspired. Age and attractiveness varied, only in partial relation to the severity of their performance. It seems the ladies performed the same vaginal tricks night in and night out, given their passionate lack-of-focus. If so, then some sort of ranking must be established, because some of the things they pulled out were at least a bit undesirable.
The club half-filled, right on time at 8pm, after 500 Baht each entry, rather pricey even though it did include the worst imaginable mixed drink in the smallest imaginable cup. That made no sense.
Located in a random warehouse district, about a half kilometer from the Sanam Pao SkyTrain stop - if I remember correctly - we discovered on our way back, which wasn't too off the beaten track. But the place was signless, and nameless, and the Buddhist money tree located in the entryway certainly made for a strange contrast with the source of the cash. But then, in some sense this is the middle road, watching sexual perversions rather than enacting them.
The audience was mixed, a Russian tourist couple, some younger Western males who had clearly drank too much elsewhere – knocking over their table was a solid indicator. Plus some enthusiastic east Asian businessmen types, smoking a cigarette that had been well-lipped as a show prop. Later some Indians came in, mustached and entranced in the front row.
The namesake was the first act, involving a somewhat attractive girl bouncing balls, usually in one hop, into a cup on the other side of the stage. One at a time, very systematically, extra fluids constantly being wiped up by a ready towel. Robots can play sports, too, it seems. Others, older and less attractive usually, dazzled the crowd with a string of razor blades, and later string of glow-in-the-dark flowers. The powerful array of black-lights and cheap colored lights, while adding to the atmosphere, made things mentally pop more than was needed, given the nature of the show.
Strings came out slow, were made into shapes, and waved around, while ends still dangled in utero.
Other adventurous activities included opening a beer can (pretty sure she hid an opener up in there somewhere), launching darts at balloons, sending bananas soaring through the air, and even blowing out the candles on a birthday cake with some semblance of a controlled queef. And of course the beloved crotch-smoking, which warranted a hefty tip of a few large notes, and led to the question of whether or not these ladies were available for more after the show. “Welcome to Thailand” was even written by one ambitious lady, and another pulled jangling bells from her nether regions.
Their relative remoteness on stage would make it seem like they are solely performers, by being in a sex show they are somehow making a better choice than outright prostitution, but at the same time Bangkok is a wild place that surely attacks those wealthy and demented enough to desire some alone time with a women who removes objects from her vagina professionally.
By the time two women faked a lesbian experience, the grinding too often without contact to count as any sort of actual intercourse, but at least they coordinated moves were well rehearsed. And like all the acts the highlights were few, beyond the shock value (both at the drink prices – 200 Baht – and the show) and occasional attractive performer. The tobacconist was certainly a standout, both in looks and enthusiasm, but then wouldn't you rather have a smoke than a shave?
The grand finale was as equally practiced as its predecessors, though with two performers literally have sex, protected at least, it was hard not to be a bit more attentive. Not hard though, it should be noted, as from the diverse positions to the thrusting climax, it was certainly a staged shag. At least it was, as a heterosexual male, the most enjoyable part, but then a sex show isn't usually attended for arousal, but rather due an aroused curiosity.
Certainly with all the tuk-tuk drivers eager to advertise, understandable since commissions certainly go their way, plus looking for an alternative to the Big Cock show we'd already seen at a gay go-go bar earlier in the week, meant it was oddly intriguing. Girls with ping-pong balls? A real sex show? For “only” $15 AND you get a free drink?
'When in Bangkok' is usually a good attitude, though sometimes that isn't the best of reasons to explain the strange things that tourists do to themselves. The touristic type seems to have some strange masochistic side, willing to undergo torturous abuse in the name of travel. But eyes can't get STDs, and I'm sure my previously untarnished soul can recover in due time. And I've at least witnessed the legendary glory that is a ping-pong show, arguably as culturally relevant to modern Thailand as a visit to an over-touristed wat.