Magic Elephant Ride
Violations
CHIANG MAI, THAILAND (MPI) — So many violations of trust recently. Boon’s trusted friend and cook, Mau, disappeared after stealing Boon’s ATM card and pocketing money intended for Boon’s high phone bill (caused by my Internet access). This, after Richard’s mysterious disappearance and Boon’s decision, after 4 years of caring for his 10-year old niece Coy, to send her home to Petchabun until she is old enough to take care of herself. His household has practically folded overnight, and he is alone. Except for me. And Prae and Boy-Boy.
I then discovered that in January someone had used my Visa card number to purchase ฿28,000 (over $1,000 worth) of jewelry and then charged over $120 at some cantina in Chiang-Rai, a far Northeastern Thai city that I’ve never visited. I put it together in hindsight: the sweet-faced Thai girl who ran my Visa card against a carbon-paper-based copying mechanism and then said, “Oh, it didn’t come out right” and then ran it again. This all happened just after I left for Malaysia.
Magic Elephant Ride
Today I got to thinking about taking a trek to an elephant village. Haven’t done that yet and would like to. Heard that one should avoid riding behind another elephant, though, because the beasts tend to pass gas a lot....
The fat elephant butt before me keeps reverberating, and man, it stinks! After five or six elepharts, I reach for the cigarette lighter I’ve been holding for Boon, extend my arm, and fire her up. The flame ignites like a fiery tablecloth floating in the wind. The combustion totally freaks out my elephant, and she rears high on two legs, twisting her mammoth head from side to side. She and the others break the line and stampede into the village, stomping houses and fences, causing an second stampede of nearby farm animals. We roll across the fields like a living, mammalian river and earth-shake into downtown Chiang-Mai. Drivers abandon their tuk-tuks at the sight of us. Kids and adults clear the streets as we crash through the Night Market, toppling cheap, makeshift souvenir stands and fruit carts. I get a glimpse of a flattened silver Buddha statue as it comes out from under my bully’s foot.
The roaring, trumpeting parade gradually wanes as we encounter more and more traffic in the busier city streets near the canal. We’ve picked a bad time to stampede: it’s rush hour. Hunks of automobile are more obstacle than most of the elephants feel like navigating, and so we slow to a trot and then, gridlock. I’m stuck on a “Nightclub” street, and the sun has set by now, so I suppose I am fair game as a twentyish-looking Thai male calls up to me, “Hello? You want massage? You want fuck girl? Very young!”
My elephant extends her left foot and gently squashes him into a round human pancake before I have time to answer. There is no blood or gore; his body just accordions, cartoonlike, into a giant ฿10 coin.
I am sitting in Boy-Boy talking to Bird. I ask him how long he’s worked at Boy-Boy. One year and 2 months. And before that?
“Bangkok. Not work in bar — work in restaurant.”
“Why did you start working here?”
“I like! Big Money. Restaurant, one month, I get ฿2,500. Here, farang take me out one day, I get ฿500!” I am aghast that Bird only gets ฿500 per customer. Early on I had learned that ฿500 is a minimum and that the “better” boys get ฿1,000. I ask if he knew Boon in Bangkok. No. So basically, Bird, at the age of 28 decided to become a prostitute for the fun and money of it. Boon has gone to his house to lock up so he can stay with me tonight. Bird goes into the back and comes out wearing only his underwear. He stands by my table, dancing sexily. I clownishly cover my eyes. A brief while later he is dancing on the stage and his briefs do not well hide his excitement. I am not fit for this.
Some of the elephants have begun tossing cars out of the way with their tusks. My sex hawker is not the only squashed. Several formerly human disks rattle to a stop that appear to have recently been tuk-tuk drivers. Boon, who is riding the elephant behind me, is about to squash the driver of the saelow who, way back when, hadn’t known how to get to Chang Puak Gate. “So stooopit!” I hear him mumble as he tugs on the elephant’s left ear, triggering the squashing action. “Snarf!” the guy’s a giant ฿10 coin. I turn to admonish Boon for snarfing a guy just because he’s stupid, but then my eye catches a sweet-faced Thai girl wearing huge piles of gold necklaces. She’s also wearing a big sandwich sign made out of enlarged impressions of my Chevy Chase credit card.
“Hey! Hey You!”
Zoom — Snarf! — she’s a coin, lying under ropes of gold chain.
Shortly after Bird takes the stage, a big, ponytailed farang customer and his pal come in to the bar. Big farang is young, not so ugly, looking like Miles Standish if Miles Standish had played for the NFL. His friend is a little older, fatter, more lifeworn, with shoulder-length, thinning hair. Bird is delighted to see Miles, runs up to him and his friend, plants kisses. I watch silently as the trio negotiate who does what and at what cost. Minutes later, Bird is fully dressed, the bar fee has been paid, and Miles, his pal, and Bird are off into the paid-for night.
The elephants and even the goats and chickens have had it with this gridlock! My elephant starts flapping her ears, and soon we rise up into the humid air. Before I know what’s going on, the whole stampede is airborne. Look — there, just below me are Miles Standish and his pal! Without even needing my encouragement, my elephant aims her trunk at them and an eerie yellow-green snot-bolt shoots out. “Snarf!” he’s a coin. “Snarf, snarf!” So is his pudgy buddy! And then we’re off, higher above the city, faster than Thai Airways!
We zoom through the high, cooler air and soon have left the lights of Chiang-Mai behind.
