Pontiac GTO

Here I find myself in Koh Samui, an island in the gulf of Thailand, eating dinner with a Scotsman, a French Canadian and a Swede. Somebody mentions that they had met a guy in Phuket who owned a gorgeous GTO, someone else asked who had made it, I said: "Pontiac" the Scott said, "oh yeah, Puntiac" The French Canadian: "Ponne-iac?" Swede: "ya, Ponchiak." A strange little moment that, but one of the things I do enjoy about traveling this way.

I'm staying currently at a nice beach side resort which is costing me very little. The water is calm, the sun is hot, the view is amazing and I have my own bathroom, which is by far the greatest luxury I could ever hope for. There is a beachside deck where I eat my meals and watch middle-aged European men wrap speedos around their fat asses and wallow out into the the sea, bobbing about like big white otters. Others lounge like proud little Caesars, as gorgeous, dark skinned Thai girls massage and pedicure their feet. They parade up and down the beach, with their blotchy sunburns, their eyes squinting, their brows furrowed straight up and through their receding hairlines, sipping at straws dipped in cold coconuts, living the great pudgy life. Hours of entertainment.

Much better than the damn Full Moon Party which I warn all to stay away from.

This is a dark circus of a rave on a beach at Koh Phan Ngan, a neighboring island. Westerners come and paint themselves like dayglo clowns and dance under blacklights to a menagerie of DJs that come from all over the world to perform at the beach side clubs. Sounds like fun, BUT it is an orgy of debauchery and it destroys what is probably a gorgeous beach as the surf is polluted with bottles and other such refuse. By the time I left, around 2 am, there were bodies littering the beach, passed out, wrapped around bottles or around equally sedated lovers. There are stories of stabbings and of death that make the whole thing seem a savage nightmare. Though there were some firedancers, which was actually worth seeing.

No, I enjoy reading Crime and Punishment as the slow waves clap softly against the beach and as another great soft European gentleman splashes gently about in his swim cap and goggles, his missus, spread out like dough upon a reclining chair, as the scent of coconut oil wafts easily off of her.