Thai Encounters of The Third Kind


I honestly didn’t know. And if you had seen her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell either. She had a lovely and very feminine face with only a few whiskers. Her chest was desirable despite being petite. Her butt and hips were cute but a little on the narrow side. She had all the ingredients of a hot plate of exotic pad Thai straight out of Bangkok. The only problem, she was actually a he.

Now I know what you’re thinking, there were more than a few tell tale signs that this ripe Thai flower was actually a ripe Thai banana but at the time, I just couldn’t tell. I had no idea. This had to do with the few yet all too common flaws of the male condition. Ones that I know my fellow male backpackers can relate to.

The first of which is a constant overestimation of our ability to consume alcohol. For some reason, no doubt enhanced by a lack of brain cells due to previous blackouts, most of us believe that we can handle many rounds of the hard stuff. However – even if you are of an Irish or Russian breed – nothing can prepare oneself for the infamous buckets of Thai whiskey. I too, like I suspect most who travel on Koh Samui holiday packages are, was unprepared.


The second reason and one that Robin Williams so eloquently characterizes, is that men are simply blinded by the prospects of sexy time. He states, “God gave man a brain and a penis and only enough blood to run one at a time.” No one has ever spoken a more valid statement in my opinion. And so, like countless men before me, the prospects of catching this beautiful Thai tail obscured any doubts that she might actually have had a very well-endowed Thai trunk.

How I discovered the truth is the most painful part of this story. And by painful, I mean excruciating and literal pain. There I was, with her in my lap, sitting on a large wooden picnic table a few meters from the beach bar where we met. We were locked in an erotic embrace of tongues when all of a sudden, something hit me square in the lower back. Rage instantly entered my being and I stood up screaming in anger and agony. Someone had pushed over the adjacent 150 pound table directly on me.

After not finding the culprit and calming down a bit, I realized that the shock of the table had sobered me up quite a bit. More, the pain in my back vanquished the seemingly undying snake in my pants. Then I looked at my companion and that’s when it hit me. I began putting the pieces together and recalled all the stories I had heard. The affirmation of my suspicions and the coup de grace of my hard on came when I noticed a small yet undeniable bulge in her tight jean shorts.

Too stunned to offer an explanation, I began limping away. In denial, I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t be. “She had to be a girl,” I thought. But in my heart, I knew the truth. I had become one of those tales. I had become the stereotypical backpacker who unwittingly fell for the beautiful Thai lady boy. Oh Vey!

Things could have been much more awkward though. I could have taken her back to my room, far from the beach, only to discover her overgrown lady parts. Worse, if I had been a little bit drunker, I might have only discovered her secret weapon while confused and hangover the morning after. So while I cursed the man who pushed that table on to me, I realize that he could have been doing me a favor.

Moral of the story: Unless you fancy Thai lady boys, which I have no problem with if you do, be sure to take it easy with the Thai buckets and indulge in a wank before you hit Had Rin beach.


About the Author: Leif Harum

When I was 16 I ran away from home and explored much of Europe and the Middle East without a dime. Now I’m 24 and still on the run. Travel is my life blood, Kerouac and Grylls my role models. Join me and learn how to run away and travel the world.



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