Bed Supperclub – Thailand

grey Bed Supperclub   Thailand I wash away the dust and tiger fur before treating myself to a whiskey sour on the roof. I absently watch a behemoth thunder storm brewing over the city while sipping my drink and brace to explore the city one more time. My mission tonight is to find the Bed Supperclub Thailand, the club which enjoyed rave reviews from my crazy sunburnt friend in Gokyo.

I have no idea at all what happens at this club, it could be a meeting place for rap dancing midgets or the Gay Klu Klux Klan for all I know. Curiosity sees me dressed in my best shirt as I leave the hotel refusing another kind offer of massage.

The famous Bed Supperclub Thailand turns out to be quite a challenge to find. My booked taxi does not arrive due to gridlocked traffic so I am forced to navigate by train. This proves quite a trial for the Thai speaking mountain goat, accentuated by train employees not caring if I reach my destination or not. I am on the train for only three stops before walking along a side street in the middle of the very same storm I watched brew over the city. Never have I seen rain like this, it feels like God’s bathtub is plumbed to drain right onto this street.

The streets become rivers and me a drowned rat in less than a minute. Despite the deluge I am warm and finding it rather liberating to be walking alone down the middle of a traffic free street in Bangkok. I cannot resist the urge which overtakes and start dancing down the street in my nipple accentuating white top. Joyfully I breaking into song, ‘Raindrops are falling on my head’ and kick up puddles of muddy rain while looking like a complete lunatic. Locals and other tourists hide under their eaves laughing at me. ‘I don’t care, nobody knows me here, am I starting to loosen up and find my feet with this whole travel caper?’

Finally I arrive at the Bed Supper Club, after turning down only three offers of massages, dripping muddy jeans must be lowering my appeal. Looking at the information board outside the Bed Supper Club I discover I am about to enter one of the most exclusive clubs in Bangkok. The best DJs in the world frequent this club, which has reached cult status in a fickle town where clubs bloom and wilt on a monthly basis. The outside of the building looks very much like your classic James Bond bad guy lair, despite not being set inside an active volcano. A long oval white building envelopes a totally sterile, bleached environment that contrasts starkly with the muddy street. The interior is stark white with projected light patterns and music videos lending colour to the walls and floor. Long beds covered in stiffly bleached seats provide seating or lounging space and add to the surreal setting. I feel like I am inside a womb. Soaking wet from my rain dance I squelch over to a bed, remove my shoes and try to get comfortable on a hard mattress. My jeans muddy the bleached white sheets in minutes.

grey Bed Supperclub   Thailand

Being the first customer of the night I have five waiters, six chefs and two DJs at my disposal. Feeling like a grubby billionaire as I recline on the bed I am very glad to have arrived early. The waiting staff present a seven course degustation menu as I sit on my perch, distractedly fine tuning my world domination plans while watching light dance over the walls. Two nearby waiters gossip absently but do not take their eyes off me. I start to feel a bit uncomfortable with the level of attention, not to mention the dirty sheets, but stubbornly I hold my lone post on the bed; smiling to myself, scheming and thinking about what travels are to come. Soon I finish my third dessert and can no longer ignore my increasingly itchy bum from wearing wet jeans. I peel myself off the bed, shove steaming socks into wet shoes and meander through dirty streets towards my hotel. I am scratching my behind and passing insistent masseuses all the way to the front door.

Sitting amongst cigar smoke and suit wearing executives at the now lively rooftop bar I watch the storm shrink to the distance and prepare myself for another culture shock, Mongolia.

 

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