Then Eric got punched by a ladyboy...

First off, I must admit that all of this was my idea, not Eric's. Anyone who knows me knows that I am always a little too inclined to do things "for the story" (ask Kathryn about our visit to Patpong if you're in doubt about that one). So "for the story" I decided that Eric and I really should go to a ladyboy cabaret on Phuket -- and conveniently enough, in the packet of tourist information I collected at the airport, there was an ad for "Katoys R Us" -- a cabaret in Patong Beach with nightly shows starting at 9:30.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of visiting Phuket, let me just say that it's tourist hell -- and Patong Beach is sex tourist hell. Yep, go-go bars and ping-pong shows from one end of the main drag to the other (with some random tailors mixed in here and there -- oddly enough -- and a variety of chain restaurants near the beach ... yippee for Starbucks and strippers all in one local!). There are ladyboys prancing about ready to hop into your photos, and men carrying iguanas and monkeys about for the same reason. (And here & there are families wandering wide-eyed about with their children -- some people really ought not procreate...but I digress)

Back to the point...

Soi Eric in TH Bangla, Patong Beach, Phuket.
Eric and I wandered around in Patong Beach for a bit looking at the generalized nastiness and wondering what is becoming of the world. I got a good picture of Soi Eric (Eric Street), a side lane lined on both sides with go-go bars, and Eric took a photo of me in front of a for sale sign hanging on one of the bars (who needs to be a lawyer when you can run off to manage your very own go-go bar?!).

Finally 9:20 rolled around, and we headed to the show. Well, we headed to the bar -- which was completely empty of patrons, but full of ladyboys. As soon as we peaked inside, out came a gaggle of ladyboys to drag us to the nearest table and explain that the show would be starting soon. Eric and I ordered beers since one needs liquor for these sorts of excursions. And two lovely ladyboys joined us at our table. You guessed it -- like trashy strip clubs in the US, the show might be free at the cabaret, but you're supposed to buy the ladies drinks in exchange for their company. We probably could have sent them away, but when you're the only patron, you feel at least a little obligation to help pay the ladies' salaries. As a result, we had two ladyboys join our party.

Meg and the (lady)boys.
About then an older Australian man and his wife entered the bar. The man looked like a jolly, non-winking, Aussie version of Popeye. His wife looked, well, wifely (grandmotherly, even) and less than amused by the situation. They plopped down at the table beside ours, and before I could say "boo," there were four ladyboys swarming around them. I think that they too decided that two was enough and sent the others away to dance on the bar and frolic outside.

All the while there were ladyboys dancing on poles in the middle of the room and shedding clothing in the bar window. (Apparently one of the less clothed ones kept making very obscene gestures at Eric every time I turned my back) The ladyboys at our table decided that what would liven up the place was some audience participation...unfortunately that translated into "Meg" participation. Yep, men don't get to participate, and there was no way in hell anyone was getting the grandmotherly Australian to do anything more than control her anger long enough not to kill her husband in public. Go figure that this was one of the occasions in life when being drunk would have assisted, and when I wasn't. Bother.

An investment opportunity.
Thus sober me was dragged onto the bar to dance and pose with the ladyboys. That lasted all of five minutes before I decided that I had participated more than enough. Eric got a good laugh off that one!

Thankfully the cabaret was finally ready to start, so I was left alone for a bit. Poor Katoys R Us! It's a bit low-rent, I must admit -- nothing like Christie's on Samui. The costumes didn't quite fit, and about half of the backup dancers looked anything but excited.

I do believe the highlight of the show was a fat drag queen who belly danced to Hava Negila. Yes, I am well aware of the many, many things wrong with that performance. Let's see -- ere, there are a million middle easterners wandering the streets of Phuket, and I really doubt they would be happy to see a tranny belly dancing. Then there's the issue with the song being a JEWISH folk song, not a belly dancing fave. Then there's the problem in general with short, fat, somewhat hairy men belly dancing in public arenas ... But hey, it was funny in that sad, inappropriate way.

There were several other performances that were more, ere, traditional and thus more appropriately enjoyable (if anything at a ladyboy cabaret can really be defined as "appropriate"). Lucky me was again dragged into the spotlight after the Australian wife angrily refused to dance with the first "singer." And again my participation lasted exactly as long as it took for me to politely escape back to my bar stool.

While the show as going on, some of the other ladyboys were wandering around the bar. The world's foremost ladyboy body builder (imagine a stocky, ripped man with large fake boobies) came over and began punching said bosoms with great force for some reason (I kept wanting to issue a warning about the dangers of exploding implants -- just ask one of those WWE lady wrestlers) -- but couldn't find the appropriate words. The little body builder was hassling the Australian -- and may have punched him in the arm -- I'm not sure what was going on. Then it was our turn. The ladyboy came to our table with some little packages of damp towels (which they had in large supply at the bar for some reason). She handed one to me, then turned to Eric and punched him right in the chest with the other one -- it exploded with a great boom, and Eric nearly fell off his stool. Odd really. (I'm not sure that was necessary in the name of damp towelettes, but hey, I'm not sure any of this was really necessary in the traditional sense of the word.)

About the time I was thinking I was ready to flee the scene (but wondering how to duck out when we were two of four in the audience), the show ended. We snapped a couple more pictures then ran from Patong Beach. Oh my...