Like most gay men of my age sports is not one of my favorite pastimes. But when you are on holiday in a world-class tropical beachside resort town it’s the perfect opportunity to expand your horizons and butch up a bit. Finding the perfect sport to engage in can, however, take some time. The most popular among my fellow beach enjoyers at Dongtan appeared to be some sort of new-age exercise that involved wading into the ocean to ankle depth. It didn’t look to be a strenuous activity, but from the huffing and puffing those who had taken on the challenge made as they headed back to their lounge chair to plop down and order another round of beer, it just didn’t look like the right endurance sport for me. Besides, that sport seemed to require a uniform of an almost g-string looking bathing suit, and not being properly attired I didn’t want to come off as a complete novice.

Fortunately the young man I’d made friends with, who had been anxiously waiting for me to call it a day so he could earn merit by helping me carry the souvenirs I’d purchased back to my hotel, had woken from his latest nap and recognizing that I was looking for an activity to engage in suggested I try my hand at the sport of jet-skiing. Once again the gods were smiling down on me. Don, or Ton as he’d mispronounced his name, not only knew how to jet-ski but had a family member who had an extra machine that I could use! So off we headed down the beach to where his brother waited.

Don introduced us – calling me falang, the sweet nickname he’d come up with for me – and after much discussion told me that the local custom dictated that I should ‘rent’ the jet-ski from his brother. This evidently has its foundation in the Buddhist religion where doing good toward another requires that person then return the favor, resulting in a never-ending cycle of merit making that can be easily avoided by removing that initial bit of generosity through the exchange of cash. And considering how much a jet-ski machine must cost in a place like Thailand, the 50,000 baht figure they arrived at certainly sounded to be reasonable amount of rent. Besides, being a first time jet-ski enthusiast I was sure I would be quite worn out within that 15 minutes of exercise anyway.

Well it was quite an exhilarating experience! And after falling off the contraption for the eighteenth time, the additional 500 baht I’d paid to ‘rent’ a flotation device was worth every penny I’d paid. Don and his brother seemed to enjoy my antics too, while they waited on the beach for me drinking beers that the nearby concessionaire had agreed to put on my tab. It was a memorable occasion for me and one that surely would have been the highlight of my Pattaya holiday, except suddenly – and quite embarrassingly – those same gods who’d been smiling down at me took to frowning instead.

Everything was going well until Don’s brother signaled to me that my time was up and I needed to bring the jet-skiing machine back to the beach. Showing a pride of ownership that was quite endearing, as soon as I managed to make land again he began lovingly inspecting every inch of his sports equipment. And then, to my great horror, he found a nasty looking dent and scratch down one side of his beautiful and cherished machine. I don’t know how I could have possibly caused such damage; you wouldn’t think the water could be that hard and even though there was a good deal of debris floating in the water most of it had looked like discarded plastic bags and condoms, not the kind of material you’d think would cause a dent on impact. But the evidence of my misdeed was staring me in the face.

Well, as you can imagine Don’s brother became quite angry, yelling and screaming at me while pointing at the nasty gash I’d inflicted on his property, while Don looked on shaking his head in empathy with his brother’s plight. At one point Don’s brother even mentioned calling the police! But Don stepped in and interceded on my behalf, calming his brother down while he suggested to me that I should do the right thing and pay for the damage I’d caused. Of course I immediately agreed and told Don’s brother he should get an estimate for the repairs and that I would gladly reimburse him for the costs to return his jet-ski machine to its pristine condition. I though that was a reasonable way to handle the problem but Don’s brother became incensed once again until Don explained to me that the local custom was for me to pay for the repairs up front. Fortunately their family had evidently dealt with this type of problem before and the brothers knew the repair job would run $60,000 baht, a sum I gladly handed over as it was, after all, my fault.

Once they realized I was not going to take advantage of their generosity in letting me use their jet-ski machine, they both settled down. And once I’d paid the 800 baht bar tab they’d run up during our negotiations, and – thanks to Don reminding me – a 1,000 baht tip for his brother, all appeared right with the world once again. And I felt a bit better about the whole incident when I noticed Don’s brother slip him some of the cash I’d given him for the repairs, the needs of a family member being more important than getting his beloved jet-ski machine immediately fixed. And then, just to show you how warm and friendly the locals can be, as we walked off I saw Don’s brother offer another tourist the use of his jet-ski equipment too. I only hoped for Don’s brother’s sake that that tourist didn’t accidently cause damage during his ride on the high seas too!

Even though I’d handled the situation honestly and admirably, it did put a bit of a dampener on the afternoon, and I could hardly blame Don when he suggested we call it a day and, finally, allow him to carry my souvenir purchases back to my hotel for me. So after settling up my tab for the lounge chair rental and food and drinks I and the beach boys had consumed (who’d of thought that could add up to 20,000 baht so quickly!) and remembering to tip the concessionaire, we made the long hike back out to the road to flag down a bus for the ride back to my hotel.

Showing off my newly-learned public transportation skills a bit, I interceded when Don attempted to negotiate our fare and demanded we only pay 40 baht. Boy did his eyes grow wide watching me so skillfully haggle for that price! And quite honestly 80 baht for the both of us to ride was still quite cheap. My bigger concern was knowing when to get off as I’d not looked for a landmark when I boarded the bus earlier that day, but Don asked me, “Where you stay?” and amazingly immediately knew where my hotel was.

But then that’s Pattaya, a small town at heart even though it is one of the world’s premier beach resort destinations. Which became even more evident when we entered the lobby and the front desk clerk greeted Don by name while many of the elderly expats who were still hanging out in the cafe waved their own greeting to him with a familiarity that meant, I can only assume, that Don had at some point in the past helped them carry their purchases from the beach home too.

The front desk clerk efficiently retrieved my room key, and then slid a paper across the countertop for me to initial, something about a 500 baht joiner fee. Which I guess was some sort of tip. And once again I was pleased that the locals are so helpful in steering visitors straight on their local tipping customs to help us avoid unintended embarrassment. With those details squared away, and since the elevator was still ‘finit’ we climbed up the steep flight of stairs to my ocean-view luxury room, the entire time during which I contemplated just how much I should tip Don for his help once we got to my room.

Well I was quite flabbergasted when we’d hardly entered the room before Don announced, “I shower.” But then I’d read Thais are big on cleanliness, and carrying all of my goodies had undoubtedly caused Don to sweat a bit. And then, proving yet again just how thoughtful Thais can be, when he finished with his bathing routine Don came back into the bedroom stark raving naked rather than hog one of the preciously few towels management had provided. I knew that public nudity was not a major concern among the locals, it seemed to be a running gag among the expats back at the beach to pull a boy’s swimsuit down whenever they got close, but still I was a bit embarrassed for Don and decided I too would take a shower, which would give him some privacy to get dressed in. But evidently all that carrying had worn the poor boy out and he was too exhausted to dress himself; when I came back out of the bathroom he was still naked, now stretched out on his stomach on my bed.

I’m not a pervert, but am a gay man, and I have to admit the sight of Don’s beautiful dusky, brown-colored bubble butt got my blood pumping. At first, I felt a bit guilty about this as Don looked to be only in his mid-teens, but earlier at the beach I’d overheard a discussion between two of the foreigners who’d made Pattaya their home about how Thai men often look decades younger than they really are. The gentleman who seemed to be in the know explained to his companion that you can’t trust the local boys ‘cuz they’ll tell you they are only 13 when they are not, and then muttered something about Sunee Plaza going to hell in a handbasket. Anyway, the important thing was that probably meant Don was old enough to accept my advances. And from the welcoming look he cast over his shoulder at me, it looked like he was quite willing for me to make a move.

Patience is not a virtue of the young, and Don being no master of virtues himself quickly tired of waiting for me to decide what to do. Smart enough to realize our language barrier could be a problem, he went with the obvious to speed things along, arching his back and spreading his buttocks wide in the air. Even in my aroused state I thought that move was a bit on the wanton side, but then remembering the typical physique back at the beach of the foreigners who’d decided to call Pattaya home, I realized any lesser position would make it nigh impossible for any one of those foreigners to adequately mount a boy. Which again just goes to show you how accommodating the locals are and how concerned they are for the welfare of visitors to their land.

Well let me tell you Don’s beautiful buttocks gloriously spread in the air was a welcoming sight for these old, tired eyes. But my eyes were not quite so tired as to have missed that something seemed to be amiss with the view. The closer they traveled to that point of welcome, the more bruised and used the view became. That smooth pathway to heaven took on a scaly appearance with patches of flaking skin that would have made an advanced sufferer of dandruff jealous. It was, to my recollections now, a perfect metaphor for the reality of Pattaya in light of the tropical paradise it is promoted to be. That ass that had looked like a peach waiting to be bitten suddenly looked like strange fruit, bruised and hurt in the way it hurts when you accidently staple you’re tongue to the wall. And I suddenly felt as uncomfortable as Mel Gibson at a Bar Mitzvah.

Don sensed that I was troubled by that view, and lowering himself, in his faltering English he explained he’d had some ‘problem’ down there and had just returned from a visit to the local hospital. Which explained that yaba medicine I’d seen him taking earlier at the beach. And while I was no longer in the mood, it warmed my heart that even in his convalescing state, bringing me a bit of joy had meant more to him that his own health. Saddened that he would not get go know me better, and despondent that he would not be able to earn more merit by taking care of me as he’d promised, Don quickly dressed himself and then suggested a 3,000 baht tip was in order for the time we’d spent together. And though I‘d yet not been fortunate enough to have spotted one of the town’s elusive taxi cabs, he evidently knew where they could be found and, worn out from his day‘s efforts on my behalf, asked for 500 baht more for taxi fare to get home, which of course I was more than willing to give to him.

I was sad that my first day in Pattaya had not ended as happily as it had almost promised to end, but when one door stays thankfully shut, another one opens and later that night I met the love of my life, Ait, when I visited the mens clubs of Boyztown for the first time, a tale that will have to wait until the next instalment of my adventures in Pattaya.

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