One of them, a very dark skinned Filipina girl whose father had probably been a black American soldier and whose mother was almost certainly a prostitute, grabbed my crotch with one hand and my buttocks with the other. The other girls moved in on me, too, but not as aggressively, grabbing my bare, sweaty arms and asking my name and where I was from. They eyed me cautiously as I walked past, probably surprised to see someone from my generation in such a place. Immediately, I was surrounded by girls, climbing on my lap, kissing my neck, and massaging my crotch. “Yeah, Asian girls are very beautiful.” I replied, finding it hard to speak given the circumstances. It was well into the afternoon, but the heat only seemed worse after leaving the air-conditioned bar. ” he asked, dropping his voice and indicating to me that it must be illegal. Some of the men were already quite drunk and yelling at one another. yeah, those tacos were damn good…” “Where did you go? “Over to the mainland, Thailand and Cambodia…” “I want to go to Thailand, it is soo beautiful there, no? “Okay.” She scribbled on her pad and passed me the beer almost fully encased in ice. Hash smoke and paranoia crept in on me and I began to panic that these girls had some kind of sinister agenda. The girl guided me into the bar, still pulling my arm, as if I was going to run away at the last minute. I grabbed my beer and found myself deeply engaged in a conversation with one of them who complimented me on my physique and good looks. I found myself wandering aimlessly through the side streets, fighting off hookers and taxi drivers as I went. Eventually, a young Filipino man stepped squarely in front of me, blocking my way forward. I took a seat at the bar and a young Filipina waitress in a tight skirt handed me a menu with a smile. I looked across the bar and recognized an Australian man that I had met before. I met dozens of women and can only remember 2 who wanted to live in the United States.It’s quite rare for a foreign woman to leave her family but men often travel to different countries in search of jobs, love, etc. My drink cost $.60, but her drink would cost , and that was how the bars really made their money. sorry, but I just don’t have any money.” She immediately jumped up and left, as did the rest of the girls. “You need…” he didn’t seem willing to let me pass and he was starting to make me think about it. He gave me the packet and I slipped it into my pocket discretely, slightly embarrassed at my most recent purchase. ” “Yeah, well, you’ve gotta make it somehow, and I’m sure as hell not going back to Oz…” “I know what you mean… ” “…..” He tilted his head, staring straight into my eyes. “Two hundred pesos, it’s nothing.” Finally, I accepted, taking the money from my wallet and handing it over.
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If you live in the United States, then you are probably familiar with the complete hatred and racism towards the black man in America.
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I felt my side pocket to make sure I still had my wallet and keys and pushed past them to the front desk of the sadly misnamed . ” I was heavily stoned and trying to think of a way out, but she kept pulling me. The prospect of air-conditioning in the bar hastened my surrender. Eventually, after passing through a maze of doors and hallways, we came to the dark, heavily air-conditioned bar. The service in the bars was excellent, and the beer arrived a minute later with a napkin wrapped around the top in true Filipino style. She remembered me from two months earlier when I had been there. ” she asked, showing me her bright white teeth in a pleasant grin. He was in his mid-thirties, but worked as a drug smuggler and wore the signs of his profession in the lines on his face.