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[Home]
[Hangman's
Point] [In
Search Of Seri Court] [Kingdom]
[Memoirs]
[Hangman's Point] [Beijing
Journey] [Beijing Part 2]
[Canton Journey]
[Uncle Yum Cha] [Uncle
Yum Cha 2] [Before
The Mast] [Plays] [Interiors]
[Death Of a Legend]
[The History
Lesson] [Serious
Replys]
Here are some other links to
some of Dean's works (right-click to
open in new window):
http://www.angelfire.com/de/YumCha/KingdomChapter.html
http://www.angelfire.com/de/YumCha/Noy.html
http://www.angelfire.com/de/YumCha/Adams.html
http://www.angelfire.com/de/YumCha/Ballads.html
http://www.angelfire.com/de/YumCha/MemoirsChapter.html
Beginning
of sample chapter:
BANGKOK 1988
MIDWAY
down a Patpong Road inundated by recent rains, Brian spotted the red, blue and
green neon letters of the Horny Tiger Bar. The large sign also
accommodated a picture of a bikini-clad dancer lying back seductively inside a
champagne glass. Beside her, poised to leap into the glass, a green and
yellow tiger stood on all fours roaring in her direction.
The samlor sloshed slowly to a halt in front of the bar and Brian leapt to the
puddle-strewn sidewalk.
A young hostess in blouse and tight shorts opened the bar door with a flourish.
"Inside please, suuhhh!" Her suggestive yet pleasant smile
combined with her pronunciation of "sir" -- antebellum Scarlet O'Hara
accent with steadily rising inflection -- colored her invitation with lascivious
overtones.
From inside the bar, two bikini-clad dancers standing near the door joined
in. "This best bar in whole Thailand!"
"Best bar in whole world you bet your ass!"
Brian looked at the girl who invited him to "bet his ass." Over her
pageboy hairstyle, she wore a seven-pointed, slightly oversized, green styrofoam
Statue of Liberty crown. Its black lettering spelled out: "1886
Liberty 1986." The girls laughed and chatted to each other in Thai as Brian
entered the bar.
He was expertly led through the semi-darkness of the room by the flashlight of
another hostess. He sat on a bar stool, near a bell and cord hanging from
the ceiling. The hostess put her hand on his arm. "What you
like drink?"
"Singha beer."
She left him long enough to give his order and wipe some spilled beer off the
counter. "Beer Sing!" she shouted above the music.
A sign behind the bar near a long, rectangular fish tank informed customers as
to the purpose of the overhead bell.
He
who ring the bell buy the bar a round
One ring: Customers Only
Two rings: Customers and girls
Girls only: see cashier
Brian
opened a pack of Salem and lit up. The hostess brought his beer to him,
carelessly throwing a "Kloster bier -- Happiness you can Drink"
coaster on the counter and then carefully placing the beer mug precisely on
top. Brian anticipated that she would stay to chat him up and cadge a
lady's drink but more customers entered the bar and she scampered off to greet
them.
In his mind Brian conjured up the most recent photograph of Nalin that Suntharee
had showed him. As he turned and looked about the bar, he felt a vague sense of
guilt, as if by arriving unannounced, he was betraying her right to privacy in a
world she had chosen. He wondered if she would regard his presence as less
a demonstration of his concern for her welfare and more as an act of voyeurism
and interference.
The darkness of the room was unevenly dispersed by an assortment of lights
attached to the room's ceiling. Red ceiling lights prowled the
disc-jockey's tiny semi-enclosed alcove then swept across the room to light a
large fish tank and the area behind the counter, intermittently illuminating the
female cashier's activities and the various equipment at her station behind the
bar. Lights fixed behind slowly rotating gelatin filters shot out colored
streaks across the customers and dancers, and constantly revolving multi-
faceted globes -- as well as several diamond-shaped wall mirrors -- reflected
the colors in all directions.
In the center of all this, an ornate chandelier -- unmoving and incongruously
elegant -- both absorbed and reflected the lights surrounding it. As
Brian's eyes grew more accustomed to the bar's interior, he saw several of the
girls posing together in their bikinis for a Thai photographer. Some
smiled while others made faces at the camera, ranging from grimaces to
lascivious smirks. Brian stared briefly at each of the girls but none bore
a close resem- blance to his image of Nalin.
In the large wall mirror behind them Brian could see reflections of several
dancers across the room. Three were dressed in skimpy bikinis and two in
one-piece bathing suits with tiger skin patterns, tawny colored with black
stripes. Each danced precariously on her own tiny stage and gyrated wildly
and inexpertly to the loud music.
The author, Dean Barrett, lived in Asia for 20 years and traveled extensively in
Thailand. He was stationed in Bangkok with the 83rd Radio Research and Special
Operations Unit at Seri Court during the Vietnam War as a Chinese linguist with
the Army Security Agency. His other novel on Thailand is Memoirs of a
Bangkok Warrior.
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