Caught at Sword Point
A comment from the author:
As a cultural point, we should remember that images provided in movies and shows are often misleading. Attitudes regarding sexual activity in Thailand are often very traditional, and that the crazy strippers, dancers, and ladyboys is a side of prostitution aimed mostly at foreigners and mostly tourists at that. To a Westerner, a majority of Thai people appear conservative, shall I say, Victorian. Of course, appearances are one thing, what happens behind closed doors are another.
A friend from college convinced me to take a job in China working for an import/export company. After working in China for a while, the family that ran the business wanted to expand sourcing in Thailand. I had visited Thailand before on a Christmas break spending a week in a hostel near Khao San Road. Somehow this made me a prime candidate for a purchaser. That, and also that I was one of the lowest paid office staff willing to relocate and interested in learning a new language, not that I had really learned Chinese.
Myself and a nephew, who needed to start doing something for the business, were sent to Bangkok. We moved into a cement row house that had been rented for us in Bangkok. Instead of Khao San Road we were put into the Lat Krabang neighborhood. Not as wild as Soi Cowboy, but a lot closer to international exporting.
The first two months we were living it up, brokering deals on different products the business wanted that were then added to various shipments coming and going from Thailand. We were supposed to learn Thai, but after three months of infrequent tutoring lessons our language skills were at the level of ordering food and catching a taxi home, no deep conversations for us.
At the end of the third month, the company was late on our pay. Orders started to slow down as well. By the fifth month, we were four weeks behind on pay and scraping to get by. The main office kept saying that customers were behind on payments and when the main office got the money, they would send us our pay. We tried to keep up the appearances of professional young men but we no longer partied like our first month.
One day my motorbike ran out of fuel two blocks from the house and I had to push it home. Having noticed that a neighbor kept fuel bottles for her motorbike next to her front step, I found a way to hop from the second floor balcony onto the dividing wall and down into the neighbor's courtyard. Grabbing a fuel bottle, I just did the reverse and was back on my side to fill up my motorbike. Once we got paid, I could return a full fuel bottle and call it even. I hoped she did not notice, or at least would think her housemate had used it. After two times of "borrowing" fuel bottles I came out one morning to find my tire almost flat. I was supposed to pick up a visa renewal, and as long as there were no issues, I could do that anytime before 4:00.
Remembering my neighbor had a tire pump near the fuel bottles, I figured I could hop the balcony, borrow it, return it, and she would never know... at least about the air pump. Besides, I was starting to run low on fuel again. Climbing the balcony rail, hopping to the fence, and jumping down into the court yard was a quick routine by now, even in my casual dress pants and dress shoes. First, I placed the fuel bottle on top the fence where I could get it from my side of the fence, second, I placed the air pump next to the fuel bottle, and as I moved a plastic chair so I could climb back up a voice called out in Thai "ya khaiyap!" (don't move).
Naturally, I turned to see where the voice came from. Not a meter away stood my neighbor holding a traditional Thai sword pointed right at my throat. You see Thai swords on symbols and emblems all over, but never a real one and not one pointed at you. The blade, a dull gray metal, no shiny fake chrome, looked like an ancient weapon that had once been used to chop opponents before. No running without getting cut. She had me.
"Khamoi!" she growled at me. "Puanban ben khamoi!" (the neighbor is a thief). Evidently, she had come home earlier than normal today as she had changed into tiny running shorts, which were barely showing from under her kaki teacher's uniform shirt she still had on. The military look, ribbons, yellow shoulder boards, and all, made her appear as a warrior woman about to use her combat skills on me. Even though her skin was considered dark for a Thai, her face was flushed with anger. Her lips twisted in a downward frown that contrasted with V-shape of her jaw line.
"Khathot khrap," I pleaded. "I am sorry. I do not have money. Uh, uh... mai mee ngun khrap! Khathot khrap." So afraid that she was going to split me open I just started spouting in English. "I am sorry! I do not have any money! We haven't been paid in over a month! I was going to give it back! Please don't kill me!"
"Mhan ben nak torikit! Mai mee ngun!" she yelled, "You have money! No lie to me!"
"No, please, I swear! I only have enough money to buy food this week! I will give it to you! I will give you anything you want!" I swore. Giving food money at the moment seemed like an easy trade for my life. Maybe someone passing on the street would see us through the gate and help.
"Please! don't hurt me! Just let me get my wallet out. I will give you money." I implored.
I carefully pulled out my wallet and held out the last of my cash. She looked from me to the money, to the air pump, and back to me. Then an evil little smile came into her eyes. I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of, or turned on by, her appearance.
"You have no money?" She asked. Her tone had changed, less like an angry bear and more like a cat with a mouse.
"No, this is all I have. I swear. I do not know when we will get paid next. Please take it. Just let me go. I will never bother you again!" Motorbikes passed on the street, but nobody noticed the foreigner held at sword point inside the fence. If we had met under other circumstances, I am sure I could have used my irresistible skills of persuasion to charm her. At that moment I continued with desperation.
