Chastened

I am feeling chastened after a kathoey (ladyboy) emptied my wallet and stole my telephone, while supposedly offering me a night of entertainment at her place.

Unfortunately, it is not just naive tourists who can fall victim to a thieving kathoey's scheming ways. Careless foreign residents can too.

I met her in a shadowy place close to my drinking hole. I was getting ready to go home for the night, and had drunk too much.

This was my first night on the whisky regimen, and I was not adapting to the new drink well. I switched from beer to whisky to lose weight, but it was much stronger than I remembered.

Just before going home, I excused myself from the table and walked off in search of a toilet. I sat down for a moment to regain my composure, and when I looked up found I had been joined in the shadows by a kathoey.

I have no idea where she sprang from, but she took the lead in the conversation. 'I have no money to get home,' she said.

I asked her where she lived, and it turned out we lived in the same direction. I suggested we take a taxi back together, and I would pay. She stayed in the shadows, where no one could see her, while I went to pay the bill.

She told the taxi where to stop, and when we arrived, I offered to walk her to her place. That was a mistake, as she lived deep inside a slum area, which I could not see from the street.

The kathoey lived in a single flat on top of a flight of wooden steps, which were broken on the bottom. We had to climb onto the bottom step, the gap between the ground and the steps was so big. In my drunken state, I felt like I was trying to mount a horse.

I managed to get this old body onto the bottom step, only to lose my balance and fall off again. Sore wrist, grazed elbow, legs akimbo. Thank God, an audience of only one.

On the second attempt, we made it up the stairs. I took a quick look around, before the kathoey turned out the lights. I noticed clothes, shoes, and a whirring fan.

The room contained no furniture, no eating utensils, no books, no fridge or anything else which people normally put in their homes. However, I noticed later that this little box had entertained visitors before … men had scrawled messages in English on the walls, the way prisoners scratch their names on their cell wall to leave traces of themselves for posterity.

My kathoey friend was eager that I do something, but I was not in the mood. I was too drunk and too tired, and we didn't know each other either.

The kathoey was determined: if I wasn't willing to undress, then she would take my pants off for me. She stripped me, put a towel around my waist, and took me downstairs again to the toilet.

I didn’t need to go, but she insisted. When I came out of the toilet again she had gone. God - now where was her place again?

I found the steps, and staggered to the top, where I found her waiting. She ushered me back into the room and urged me to lie down. A moment later, she said she was going for a shower, and left the room.

But for the whirring fan, I was alone. After 10 minutes, I went in search of her outside. The sun was rising, and people were stirring, but the girl was nowhere in sight.

My suspicions aroused, I returned to her room again, and checked my wallet. It was empty, though the kathoey had the good grace to leave me my ATM card. No good-bye note, though.

This must be an old trick: first, take the customer to the toilet, and while he is away, clean out his wallet. Before he has had a chance to discover the theft, flee the scene.

I don’t know what she expected, but I am not one to just walk away after being victimised. I scooped up her clothes, put them in a clothes basket, and took the lot with me when I left.

Outside her place, with her clothes basket slung over one shoulder, I asked an old man for directions to a taxi.

I found the street again, where I withdrew another B900 (having lost the last B900 to the kathoey) and went home.

I took the clothes basket to the roof of the condo, where still it sits.

I haven’t decided what to do with it yet…toss the lot in the rubbish, perhaps. Let me see…a few blouses, boxer shorts, underpants, several bras. It seems I have cleaned her out of underwear. She might have to make do with yesterday’s pair.

Back in my room, I discovered she had stolen my cellphone as well. My partner Maiyuu and I shared a laugh, but really it wasn’t funny.

However, it could still have been much worse.

Today Maiyuu went off to report the theft to police, while I slept and tried to recover my shattered spirit.

‘Another life lesson,’ Maiyuu said. ‘You seem to like learning so much.’