My secondary reviewer and I went to Pat Pong the other night. Actually for food. There are some pretty good noodle soups across the street from there. It makes me feel elderly to be roaming the streets in a city known for the illicit looking for noodle soups and pausing to look at kittens, but those activities: the pursuit of noodle soups and kittens, do take up a good deal of our free time in Bangkok. .
So we wondered up Pat Pong because I hadn’t been there since 1999, and it was sort of on the way back to the hostel. So on that street it’s all, “Ping pong show? Ping pong show?” And we’re all, “No, thank you,” and my secondary reviewer starts to try on sun glasses. She was looking for ones that made her look like Jon Lennon, I’m not sure why.
She was trying to imitate Jon Lennon, and she’s Australian, and I was asking her not to do that, and while I was talking to her I picked up a toy gun. I really can’t say what I thought it was, a toy gun? a lighter? But you know what it was? Because I didn’t. It was a tazer. So when I pulled the trigger I got tazed. I tazed myself while I was shopping on Pat Pong.
I dropped the gun and I said, “I got tazed.” It was early in the evening and there wasn’t much going on. Some sellers of stuff from different stalls laughed. I imagine they’ve seen this each over 1,000 times? Actually, I don’t know how often this happens. I guess it was still funny, though. “What did it feel like?” my secondary reviewer asked while she kept on trying sunglasses that made her look like Jon Lennon. She tends to be good about that, checking in about how things feel.
It felt like those times I touched or got pushed into electric fences as a child. “It felt like I tazed myself,” I said, and I kept saying that, “I tazed myself,” and I could see some of the sellers of stuff were still smiling. I imagine some of them forget about the little guns and then it happens agian and then they find themselves laughing again at another foreigner who has tazed themselves.