Tomorrow is election day in Bangkok for the Governor of this megacity. Accusations of election fraud are being traded and innocents are being tossed off the election rolls. So unlike the USA.
However, there is a dark cloud over the democracy, one that prompts many to dream of a benevolent dictatorship so that no such day should ever return. No alcohol is being served from 6 this afternoon to midnight tomorrow. Equally vexing, Nana Plaza, the global epicenter of commercial sex, is shuttered and dark. There is a sense of barely concealed panic in the streets. Luckily, the fighting spirit of the Thais is alive in alleys between the alleys. I found one brave band of libertarians selling the last of their beer to a motley crew of wastrels and scofflaws. Naturally, I joined them.
It was a sour group groaning under capricious the whims of a pitiless government. Given that many were Scots, I understood them only slightly more than the Thais and then only because “fuck”‘ and its many forms comprised about 20% of the vocabulary. I felt trapped in showing of Trainspotting.
Just as we were knocking back the last of the suds, an official arrived, a civil servant, not an easily persuaded policeman. The bottles were quickly gathered just before he arrived so he found a group of customers without a single soda among them, all oddly quiet. Our host’s ruse appeared to work when his cursory inspection failed to find the damning bottles.