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Polar opposite of my approach but there is nothing wrong with that.
It's honest, heart wrenching, funny and a grab life by the throat attitude. As is you could make it into a short story or serial and publish an ebook... At least you could claim the trip then as a tax deduction if it sells enough, spin out some of the earnings to charity too.
If you could put as much of the Afghan and US sides in you would have a novel about how you are on this journey. Keep writing and get this published.
Awesome (th)read!
:bow:
This is a great read. Keep it up. I echo Papewaio's words about writing as well. :2thumbsup:
Are you still in San Antonio?
Thread makes for a fun read, keep updating MRD! :yes:
dbl post
Quote:
Originally Posted by Strike For The South
yeah, still in SA
Ahhaha.Quote:
Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump
Love the stories and pics. :2thumbsup:
I read through the entire thread for the first time not noticing what scrabble meant... Until you said that you played scrabble in the shower I was completely clueless:on_wait:.
I kept waiting for the phrase "triple word score" to come up. ~DQuote:
Originally Posted by Memnon
In an odd coincidence, the wiki article for Scrabble has a pic of the Tagalog version. :inquisitive:
Quit the dang jaw jacking and let the man get on with the story!
Dude. Sorry to play mom but, OPSEC!
And, yes, don't feed the trolls. Excellent stories. :2thumbsup:
Day 7
5 is a Crowd, Beans and Franks, Dance Party 2012, Punking Drunk Sonny Bono
This is my last night in Manila before I go to Cebu on the heels of the Cebuano Fertility Festival. In retrospect, maybe it is a good thing I missed the party.
I give all three girls 3000 pesos for their company, which they coyly said they did not want since we did not play scrabble, but whatever. Paying them is my barrier, regardless of what happens. I know Cindy does not require this, as she shot down my talks of romance from the get-go. Daisy I do not know about, but I want to square her anyway since she took off work to come play. But Alexa definitely does, if for no other reason than to stave off the baby fever. Meeting her family gave me the creepies.
Before the three girls leave in the morning, I invite them all out to disco this night, to my friend's club. Alexa has to work. I offer to EWR her, but she does not want it. I don’t know, maybe she thinks she will make more money if she works. Or, maybe she is playing that game that women play where they say one thing, but mean another, and I am supposed to beg and plead and fight, which, incidentally, is exactly why I prefer escorts over dating back home. Or not, maybe I am reading into this.
Anyway, I wish her a good day at work and wait downstairs with each girl as we hail their cabs.
Cindy and Daisy agree to go to the disco. I call Wendy and she has to work. I offer to EWR her, and she says “Yes!” Finally, no games. This one is strong in the force.
I do not have much planned for the daylight hours. In retrospect, I should have been better about organizing and charging my cameras, as I often found myself without due to dead battery. I brought 3 and my picture folders are a convoluted mess due to not being chronological. I am missing a lot of great photos. OThers I cannot upload due to promising not to or, as Vladmir put it, OPSEC. I am greatly disappointed in myself. Drink less, remember more.
Here is a photo I took downstairs of the street outside the hotel bar. This is a crazy lady who stands in the street, and as cars go by she points at the car, does a blowjob pantomime, then starts laughing. She is obviously mentally ill and probably diseased as well, due to her low body mass. People seemed to ignore her wholesale, and when I attempted to snap a photo, I got disapproving looks from some of the staff. Street solicitation is illegal, but I guess the cops do not take her seriously enough to care. She was there every day. In the same place, all day, doing the same thing. I would like to know her story. She is obviously either mixed race or an immigrant
Attachment 6907
While actually trying to find a story about her online, I found this video. Sad.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztl4LXXDmqs
Cindy and Daisy come by in the early evening. I planned on picking Wendy up from her club, but she shows up. She says that she paid her own EWR. I did not know if this was her trying to appear “independent” and save me money, or if she presumed I would pay her back for the EWR. Regardless, I planned to pay her back plus the normal tip, because that was the plan all along.
Later in the evening, Cindy gets me alone and says that Wendy called in sick, and that she is just trying to milk me for some extra money. This does not make me mad, as I cannot blame a girl for trying to squeeze some extra cash from the dumb guy being reckless with money. But I do wonder if it is true. Not just the calling in sick part (probably true, since she just showed up), but the part about milking me for more cash. Still, she may have just been trying to save me money, and Cindy may have been jumping to conclusions. I never bothered to ask.
It is not uncommon for girls to take their taxi money and end up riding a cheaper Jeepney and pocket the difference, which is why they prefer to hail their own “cabs” and usually walk around the corner to do so. I would also find out that many of the girls I hailed cabs for would ride a few blocks, pay the driver, get out, and hail a Jeepney. Again, I could care less, although this appears to bother a lot of men who seem to think that all Filipinos are out to get them. I refuse to get bent around the axle over such a trivial amount of money.
I am still fairly exhausted from the previous days, but I am feeling a bit excessive and decide I want a number four to my entourage, someone new. I expect to die soon, and I want to flabbergast my friend. I also want to make a scene at the club we are going to. I ask the girls if they have any friends who would like to join us. Much to my surprise, none of them did today, as all their friends were either working or babysitting
I asked how we should go about getting a 5th wheel. Daisy recommended her bar, but I really did not want to go into another go go bar right now. Wendy recommended trolling the malls and Cindy just said to pick some random girl on the streets, working girl or otherwise.
I decided I would invite one of the random street vendors who hocked wares on the streets. Not uncommon for men and women to try to sell trinkets, movies, Viagra, cialas, watches etc. As we walked towards the taxi hub I saw a girl selling roses. I had seen her a few nights before. She was older, 30, tall and exotic looking, which for here in Normal. She has the Northern Island look. Very much girl next door for this place. I bought each of my dates roses and asked if she wanted to join us for the evening. I was really surprised this worked, but it did. Enter Gracie.
I should note that Wendy and Cindy had not met before tonight, but they seemed to get along just fine. Fine enough for Wendy to tell Cindy she called in sick, if that was a true story. Or maybe Cindy knew someone at Wendy’s bar. Again, I got the suspicion Cindy may have payed her way through school working at a bar, but I never asked. Don't care either way.
There were a lot of Tagalog conversations on the side followed by stares and laughter, but I didn’t mind, I am used to women laughing at me, and girls will be girls.
The club owner, Tom, called and said he was downstairs with his girlfriend. I had never met this guy in person. He described himself. I told him I would be exiting the elevator shortly with 4 girls. “Did you say 4?” he asked, and I responded “Yes, is that a problem? I am not expecting you to pay our way, I got it dude.” He said it was not a problem; he was just not sure how we would fit in a taxi.
Tom and his girl took the front seat, the 5 of us piled in the back. He wanted to hit the coffee shop at the mall before we went, I guess to get an ice coffee and mingle a bit. I had heard this particular mall was a meat market at night, and there were a lot of lady boys. I came up with a game like the Slug Bug game, where when we spotted a Lady Boy we would yell Beans and Franks and punch the nearest person in the shoulder. There was a lot of punching going on. The taxi and the mall:
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The first taxi tried to charge us by the head despite it being just a 1 mile ride, and he wanted $20. I was going to pay it, even though it was 10x the normal rate for that trip, but my ever vigilant wing man went crazy on the driver. The argued in Tagalog and as I was about to slip the guy the 20, he speeds off, almost running over my foot. Cindy says she called him a crook and threatened to call the police. Wow. I did not even remember what the guy looked like; I certainly did not want him to pick me up later and drive me to an alley and shank me. I did not approve of this, just let me pay FFS.
This place is quite the social hub. Many people just seem to be out for some fresh air and a cup of fancy Joe, but the working girl/boy presence is vaguely noticeable when you start making eye contact and smiling as you pass people. They didn’t care if I was obviously with companions, they still offered, usually a subtle grab of the hand or a quiet “you want date?” There were some pretty convincing lady boys about, but you can’t hide an Adams Apple. Beans and Franks!
We had one BNF that Cindy contested. She said it was not a lady boy, and Wendy did. We weighed in with the others and I ended up being the tie breaker. I am all about truth and justice, and I did not want to be part of a false conviction, so I went over to talk to this one, who was flanked by two obvious lady boys. The truth cost me 500 pesos and 7 seconds behind a dumpster. It was a boy. This is the price of knowledge.
xx-- file max reached, Day 7 continued next post
The nightclub is in an area with heavy taxi and foot traffic. There are vendors all over the street selling drinks and snacks and cigarettes. I buy some candy from some little kids and give them extra, and we unload all of our stupid trinkets on the kids, who will just turn around and sell them. I wanted to work some uneven trades (in their favor) for giggles, but Tom wanted to get inside. We head into the bar, cutting the line in front of all the others, I presume because I was with the owner. I felt like Paris Hilton but with bigger breasts.
He has a big table ready for us and we sit down. This is not a huge place, but it does have 3 floors and the music is not so loud that you cannot converse. We order drinks and leave the ladies at the table while he gives me a tour of the facility.
This is a pretty eclectic crowd in terms of composition, looked like all walks of life and I was not nearly the oldest one there. One thing that did amuse me were the white trolls, middle aged/senior men standing alone with a beer, doing a subtle dance and saying something to each hot girl who passed. They were not together, just a guy here and there, looking totally awkward, trying to dance with girls half his age or I suppose making them offers and getting shot down. These guys stayed alone all night. They got a lot of disgusting looks.
I remember thinking that really I was no better, but at least I am not standing alone like a dork in a corner. These guys looked pathetic. You got to pay to play, man. Oh, and you have to not stink like feces, which one of them did. He sounded Russian or Eastern Euro because he said “scuse” as he walked by me near the bathroom.
I did not want to dance at first, because I am not a great dancer, but then I realized that my competition on the dance floor were Asian men, so I went ahead and gave it a go. We stayed here for probably 5 hours, dancing to your typical western pop and rap music. It was here that I learned to Dougie.
I had picked up a couple of Filipino pop songs from my karaoke machine, since the subtitles were in English, and had been practicing around the penthouse and on the girls. A the club, I would sing lines from them when there was dead air in between songs. I was a real hit. I had no idea what I was saying, or even if I was singing it to the right inflection and notes (I wasn't), but I was still a hit.
At one point in the evening, the DJ actually played one of the songs I had been singing, and announced in English prior to playing that he was doing it to shut up the guy in the monkey shirt. I was wearing a shirt of Charleton Heston kissing an ape, with the words Animal Lover underneath. And here you thought I had no class.
I looked at the adjacent building at various points in the evenings when the other owner showed up with the keys. I liked these places. Readymade customers, assuming the bars don’t close down, but I would not want to live here and I am pretty sure this place would require overnight security. We talked prices and lease agreements, as foreigners cannot own land, they can only own the building. Nor can they own more than 40% of a company, but there are ways to legally write your way around that loophole in contracts, in terms of control of the company assets. People do this all the time (like The Monopoly), which makes me wonder why they do not just change the law since everyone is skirting the law.
This area was off the grid, so prices were good, like they should be here. The cover charge was all of 50 cents. A beer was 50 cents. A cocktail was $1. A pizza was $3. Things would be even cheaper in Cebu. I wish I had been coming to places like this all along, rather than overpaying at the hotel and strip restos. If I wanted to pay $8 for a mediocre burger, I can stay in the states to do that.
Me and Tom took many trips outside to talk about the future, which I won't bore you with.
I ate all night and paced myself on booze, so although I was lit to high heaven, I was not too inebriated and was feeling good. This was a good thing, since tonight I have my showdown with Drunk Sonny Bono, whom I have not mentioned yet
I could not even begin to tell you where we were, only that it was a 30 minute cab ride and it was near a beach, because I could smell the ocean. The girls wanted to walk a few blocks to a main road to get a cab quicker, and me and tom were like HELL NO. I can only imagine what would happen to a drunk foriegner wandering alone in remote Manila. I defintely felt safer with 4 loudmouthed girls with me, but I doubt they would do anything other than scream and curse and eventually run when I got beat down. I am really good at blocking punches with my face. Tom and I together probably weighed more than the entire Filipino parliament, but that does not matter against a gun.
I kept trying to get Tom to bring his friends up to the suite. Either he did not believe that I had the penthouse, or he thought I was trying to lure them into some kind of crazy sex orgy. They guy would just not come, even though he lived nearby. I was going to start inviting random people at the bar, but Cindy and Wendy talked me out of it. I had security, it’s not like people would steal my stuff, but they reminded me that I would be liable for spills and breaks, and that all my furniture and carpet was white fabric. In fact, Alexa had already ruined one couch cushion. I can only imagine the hijacking that would happen when they charge me to replace things in the room. I like to think they were looking out for my best interest, and not saving me money just so I can give more to them. I prefer to give them the benefit :).
Back at the hotel, it was more drinking and of course more karaoke. There were over a thousand songs, but I kept hearing the same ones over and over. And there was no Purple Rain. OR I Touch Myself. I want my oney back. I ask Angel if Karaoke machines usually have Purple Rain or I Touch Myself and he has never heard either. So I sing a little of each for him. Still doesn't ring a bell, but he tells me he really thinks they should be on the machines. Damn right.
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As the girls began to change into robes and pass out one by one, it was just me and Wendy left. I helped them to comfy places to sleep and got them blankets, since I liked to keep the room cold. Wendy got dressed and decided that late night ice cream sundaes were in order, since I was out of ice cream.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention. I always had ice cream and chocolates in my fridge. It became sort of a tradition. Especially after scrabble. Naked Ice Creaming is underrated.
We went down to the restaurant and took a seat. There were quite a few people here tonight. The seating was sort of like what you might find in a Denny’s, but for midgets. The booths were close and the aisle was narrow. It was very easy to pick up other people’s conversations, which sometimes made for entertaining meals as you listened to how full of crap people were.
Sitting across the aisle from us were to young, bald soldiers with two very pretty young women with them. Maybe bar girls, maybe not. I picked up that they were Navy, on leave from the base in Guam. I had not seen them here before.
Behind me was drunk, old, bitter Sonny Bono with a hillbilly accent. Think Sam Elliot in Big Lebowski, only shorter and not nearly as cool. He was sitting with an older local woman, who did not look happy, and he was slobbering drunk.
I had been watching and listening to this idiot the entire week. Sometimes in the street, sometimes in a bar, sometimes at Jollibee, sometimes in the café. He was always drunk, he was always loud. He always had the same woman with him on the rare occasion he had company.
I had also listen to him talk incessantly about how he was in the warzone and “in the S***.”
I started recording him with my micro recorder on the second day, because it was so funny. I just did not understand how anyone could be that drunk and still be conscious. Sometimes he would prattle on for so long he would completely forget he had his food, then get riled up over something, stand up, drop a pile of cash, and storm out, food untouched. I had picked up that he was a contractor on day 2.
Whenever girlfriend would try to talk to him like a normal person, he would always cut her off. If she asked about his job, he would say it was some big top secret thing and that he was “in the sh**!” If she asked him what he did in his spare time in Afghanistan, he said he did not have any spare time because he was “In the sh**!” If she asked what kind of music he listened to, he said he “Ain’t got time for music, already told you I am In The S***!” These were the types of conversations I had heard.
Tonight I had no choice to sit next to him. Before he had been a few seats away, but I could hear him because the place was empty. Tonight I had hoped that the crowd in the place would drown him out, but it didn’t. I was now in the s***.
At some point, in the wee hours of the morning, one of the Navy kids, who looked all of 20 years old, said something about being “from the south” and “that’s how it is in Texas,” at which point Drunk Sonny Bono interrupted the kid and said “Texas ain’t the south, boy.”
The kids were quiet, kind of shocked, and one of them laughed and said “Anyway……. Before I was interrupted….”
Drunk Sonny Bono said something along the lines of offering a piece of himself, and that he was not the correct person that anyone would want a piece of, except he did not say it that fluently, but more like someone from the actual south. Not Texas, though.
“Hey man, we’re just trying to have a good time. We would appreciate it if you minded your own business” or something to that effect.
Drunk Sonny Bono asked them if they were “in the service.” They answered that they were Sailors on Leave. Drunk Sonny Bono responded that sailors were part of the female anatomy, a slur for homosexual males, and “little bitches” and that he had been living in Afghanistan, in the s***, and he was not the correct person from which they would want a piece. That was the jest of what he said, probably not verbatim because I do not speak Drunk Sonny Bono.
The kids tried to play cool and tell him they were not looking for trouble, to which he responded that they are damn right, they did not want trouble from him, as he was not one from which they wanted a piece of. He told them that he had connections, and that he did not care who they were. IIRC, he vaguely threatened to have them murdered.
One guy said “Sir, we are done talking, we just want to have a good time. We were about to leave anyway,” I could not believe the patience of these kids.
Drunk Sonny Bono, always needing the last word, replied “That’s what I thought…….. (insert female organ here/plural).
Anyway, at this point, I had pretty well had enough. Wendy had been with me before around this guy, and knew that I had distaste for his antics and had calmed me before. But this time it was different, for I had a secret weapon, although I was not sure how I was going to use it. This would be pure improv
Rewind a few days.
You see, on day 3 or 4, while down stairs in the “business suite,” the place where you pay a ridonkulous fee to use PC workstations and FAX machines and printers and scanners, I had been at a workstation printing out my plane ticket to Cebu while Drunk Sonny Bono was checking emails and surfing the web. It was late morning and yes, he was Drunk Sonny Bono then, as well. He appeared to be making some sort of purchase at some point, because he took out his wallet.
Drunk Sonny Bono’s cell phone rang and he answered and began slobbering some irate concoction of words in it, and then lit a cigarette. The girl at the desk told him he would have to smoke outside or in the bar, so Drunk Sonny Bono got up and walked away talking on his phone, not only leaving his wallet but also staying logged into his hotmail account.
I held onto Drunk Sonny Bono’s wallet because I did not want it to get stolen. I accidentally looked inside and saw the names on his credit cards and government ID. I accidentally saw a relatively new photo of what appeared to be his wife, his children and himself, but not drunk. Also, they were ugly. Then I accidentally saw his business card. He worked for GD. His office was located in Kuwait. Oh this is rich. I took down his office number and cell, his email, and of course his name and home address (from his Virginia DL), and put the wallet back next to the keyboard.
Oh look, his email.
He is still stuck in Kuwait, apparently, and will lose part of his vacation time due to mission concerns. He will be a week late and will not get that week back. What a nice husband, keeping his wife informed. Her name is Sugar.
In another tab he has a credit card website up, checking his statements. This is likely his cheaters credit card, not to be mistaken for the Family Lowe’s credit card.
And I left it at that. I could have done much worse at the time. I opened a new tab, to see where he had been. Walmart.com, boring. Myspace, WTF who uses that anymore?? Uh oh, He had actually been logged into AKO, the DOD portal, and was probably checking his AKO email. Oh wow, what would I have done? That would have been tempting, a true dilemma, as there are a few choice lines of code you can use to send an email to large numbers of people like, say, everyone in RC East Afghanistan. A racist joke? A suicide letter? Or perhaps something simple, yet eloquent, such as “I prefer Penis.”
I will never know. And I am getting sidetracked. Anyway, I called his work number (later) to make sure the business card was up to date, and they told me he was on vacation back in the states. LOLOLOL. I was genuinely curious about this because GD, in addition to dealing with many sorts of high end equipment, also builds and repairs DOD COMSEC equipment, and this guy could probably catch some heat for walking around Hooker Town bragging about his TS clearance. And if he works for GD, he has a TS. And stays logged into email and leaves his wallet laying around. Reassuring.
Okay, so the moment.
I had earlier taken out my little note card with his info and told Wendy to watch this. I was studying.
Blah Blah In The S***
Drunk Sonny Bono, always needing the last word, replied “That’s what I thought…….. (insert female organ here).
I laughed loudly. “What?” I turned around to face him, “You started it, you should be lucky we’re in a foreign country otherwise these kids would skewer you.”
“You need to mind your own business” he slobbers
I scream for him to shut up, to leave those young men alone, and to please stop trifling. “Ma’am” I told his lady friend “I am sorry but your father is an asshole”
Drunk Sonny Bono tells me this ain’t none of my concern, and that I really do not want to obtain of piece of whatever he is serving.
I introduce myself, very politely. Name, rank, unit, job title, number of missions completed, past areas of operation, approximate days in theater, number of soldiers under my command, etc, etc
One of the sailors says “oh man, funny”
I tell him that I have been listening to him for days upon days talking about being a big bad man from the warzone. I tell him that he is full of crap, and he should apologize to those sailors, because he will be thanking them when we go to war with North Korea or China, assuming he hasn’t drank himself to death. I also told him to stop treating local people like dirt.
Then he asks the magic question. SAY IT SAY IT PLEEEEASE. “Do you know who I am?”
I tell him his name, the company for whom he works, the location of his office. He is drooling
I tell him that I was bothered by his behavior since he was walking around drunk talking about top secret information (he hadn’t really, but he was so drunk he would not know)
I tell him that I had called the US Embassy (the Embassy has no way of knowing you are here unless you check in, maybe he didn’t check in, oh crap)
And that the Embassy called Philippines Customs and Immigration (I don’t think that’s the actual name of the agency) Now he really looks confused
And they had told me that he arrived on the 17th and was leaving on the 24th (Persuade Skill:100//the hotel clerk told me that, after I paid her 500 pesos, but Customs would know because they want to see your departure ticket, good saving roll)
And that he was not going back into “The S***” in Kuwait, but rather he was going back to the United States, specifically Virginia. To see someone named Sugar.
He says nothing, looks down, and begins angrily eating pancakes. The sailors are laughing. Their dates are not sure exactly what is happening. Everyone else in the diner is utterly confused. I turn back and sit down.
This would have never worked on someone who was not a drunkard. They would have remembered me from the Business Suite. I mean, the Sugar part should have done it. HOW CAN YOU BE THIS DRUNK? Would he even remember this? Should I throw the guy a bone?
“Not that you will remember this and learn from it, but a few days ago you left your wallet in the computer lab” I said as I turned to him. “And you stayed logged into your email and credit card statement. “
At this point he is reaching into his pants to check for his wallet. Wow. “No, man” I said “I didn’t take your wallet; this was a few days ago. You walk around here drunk, good thing we aren’t all assholes like you, right?”
Pancakes again.
I have Wendy, in Tagalog, tell the girlfriend that the man is married, and that I saw the pictures and read the email, which is good because a guy like that will drink himself into bankruptcy and abuse her.
The girlfriend says something long and drawn out in response. Drunk Sonny Bono, who henceforth will be referred to as Pancake Bitch, thinks they are arguing and tells his girlfriend not to argue with us. He fears my mind.
Wendy whispers this in my ear. “She know he marry. He think she not know, they vacation many times here. She okay because he gives her lots moneys. He promise marry her soon but she knows he won’t. He tells her to no sex anyone else, stay true for him, and he marry her soon. She does not want, because she marry too. Her husband work in kitchen.”
I look over, a guy in the apron has been watching from the soda bar area. He heard everything. He gives me the “sup” nod. I wish I had pancakes.
One of my favorite pics
Attachment 6946
This will likely be my last update until this weekend.
Next chapter will be:
Final morning in Manila
Flying to Cebu for $15
Wow this place is cheap
This is one of the two best things I've ever read on the internet. MRD, I can't thank you enough for sharing this with all of us.
MRD, that was the greatest putdown of a drunken bastard I have ever read. You, sir, deserve medals and other assorted platitudes for such a response. I am in awe.
The Pancake Bitch incident should've been recorded and uploaded! :laugh4:
Tagged with a few select words, on youtube it would've made a hit.
You are too nice MRD.
I am afraid I would have talked to someone in a low numbered J-shop about the security breeches.
It is a funny story here but I doubt some of those guys in suits would think it amusing at all.
You sure know how to tell a story, MRD :bow:
It reads like a book. Your life experiences combined with your sense of humour and your writing style would make you a good author of a "film noir like thriller that takes place in several exotic locations across the globe" (if that makes sense).
Quote:
Originally Posted by Fisherking
Story ain't over yet
All you need to do is intertwine some thriller plot and lace-up the bedroom scenes, then you can publish your works as "50 Shades of Major Robert" and it is already better written.
50 Shades of Dump. I like it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Tiaexz
Or 50 Dumps of ShadeQuote:
Originally Posted by Vladimir
Epic, can't wait to hear the rest! You are doing good work overseas. :bow:
I've been trying to find the best owned image of gif for this. Here's what I came up with:Quote:
Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump
Attachment 6953
This topic has been split. If you want to discuss the Objections to the Sex Trade, please take it to that topic.
I likeQuote:
Originally Posted by lars573
I also like that the topic has been split
Working holiday for the ladies and a real holiday for you; no harm no foul :)
The writing is good; I echo the call to punch it up and publish. The narration and sense of atmosphere is very Hunter S. I need a new gonzo journalist :)