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Thailand Nights

Refreshed by a nap, I head out to walk the beachfront, which, much like Waikiki, stretches for about two miles with hotel towers rising across the busy road along the sands. The ground floors of the passing hotel towers are lined with currency exchanges, jet-ski rental stands, street food carts, night market huts selling souvenirs, and many massage parlors whose large staffs of Thai masseuses each color-coordinate their spa uniforms in bright oranges and fiery reds and electric blues. They stand in the way of foot traffic, promising good times. The day’s heavy humidity has given way to the breezier night.

After about a mile, the road angles slightly away from the shore, and storefronts of a seedier tone take over both sides of the street. Cannabis lounges—pot smoke drifts beneath green, fluorescent signs shaped like marijuana leaves; firing ranges—pellet guns modeled after assault rifles fire at paper targets; snake handlers—a man poses for pictures with a white python draped across his shoulders; dunk tanks—pairs of Thai girls cheer on bystanders trying to sink them for a few bucks. Like the brightly uniformed masseuses, bar staffs of color-coordinated Thai girls stand by the dozen, shoulder to shoulder, in colorful gym- and swimwear outside what are labeled by neon signs as Go-Go bars; they invite passing groups of Russian and Indian men to come on inside.

If I'm around, you gotta give me a ring when you're in North Port.

My phone number is the same it's been since 1993.