What I hate about the internet is that it can always be there. As I checked into my hotel, after being in transit for almost 22 hours, the one thing that rang out in my head was the statement that the entire hotel is a hot zone, and there are laptops to borrow gratis...it's a Relais and Chateaux hotel, a boutique in Bangkok, probably much more than I needed. But then there's this email thing.
I sat down with my friend Chuckie the gym rat before I left, he who comes here several months a year, and he regaled me with tales of the bar girls, all beautiful, all inexpensive, all gracious. And then the cab driver gave me the same spiel. Which starts to look more and more interesting.
I never wrote about my penchant for watching, for looking, for being the observer. I've known about it for ages, the rush of getting close to the action but not touching, being there but not being in it. When I went to Amsterdam two years ago, I went throught the red light district several times, but couldn't quite get through the door.
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