The little lady was on her way, and I was alone again. I stopped by 7-11 and bought some things I didn’t need before making my way back towards the condo. I reached the turning on the opposite side of the road, and that’s where I saw it—the final boss!
Ladyboys do come in all shapes and sizes, and on a rare occasion, they can be sneaky and almost convincing. This thing wasn’t that. Not even close.
The ladyboy emerged from a hotel lobby, standing at what must have been almost seven feet tall. They weren’t exactly built like a brick shit house, but they were strapping enough to make a brick shit house think twice about having a shot at the heavyweight title. This ladyboy made me catch my breath the same way a huge spider would. They wore a very tight violet dress that was so short that it just had to reveal at least an inch of penis. It appeared this ladyboy had either tucked it up somewhere—and knows where—or had the whole thing lopped off and buried in a very large hole.
They weren’t just big and tall; they had a face like a rucksack of spanners. I would have said it was the face only a mother could love, but the mother would be too terrified to feel any warm glow of maternal love. The face was also puffy, like many other overly big ladyboys.
The final boss ladyboy waved in the most effeminate manner towards two motorcycle taxi boys further down the road. I don’t know if this happened or if the comedy movie in my mind says it does, but the boys looked at each other as if to say, “Your turn, mate."
Neither driver was very keen to make their way to collect their first fare of the day, which was very unusual as most of these boys spent their days clapping at anyone and everyone shouting “taxi, taxi motorbike.” On this racist of occasions, they seemed to prefer to starve.
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The final boss kept giving their heavy-handed, dainty-lady wave until one of them bit the bullet and slowly made their way down. This whole time, I had been frozen on the other side of the road. I didn’t dare cross over and have to navigate past this wonder. This was a ladyboy who could break me in half and use me for a toothpick.
I wondered, as it was clear the ladyboy was making the walk of shame, who on earth paid to have sex with the final boss. There is drunk, there is blind drunk, and there is death wish drunk. This had to be a level above the death wish I had never experienced before. The fact that the final boss didn’t have a noticeable penis made me even more intrigued because surely they would be doing the fucking. No man could fuck the final boss.
As my pondering led me further and deeper into myself, my awareness came back sharply as I noticed the final boss had spotted me, and they were smiling. Oh shit, I thought.
I didn’t return a smile; it was more like the look you make when the sun is blaring into your eyes. The final boss appreciated it none-the-less. Luckily, the motorbike had pulled up, and they were ready to roll. The final boss got on the back, and the wheel arches sank fifty feet into the ground.
What topped off this brief spectacle was how they chose to sit on the motorbike. They mounted like ladies in the 1930s would, with two legs crossed over one side—to hide the lady crotch from view. This made the final boss look almost elegant. The driver proceeded to pull away, and the final boss ladyboy gave me one of their dainty lady waves as they rode away. I didn’t wave back, which was rude, but I just couldn’t do it.
When told about ladyboys in Thailand, I never quite knew what to expect—big hands, Adam’s apples, and deep voices. Never did I think a man would think they could get away with being a lady and be built like that. It was either a severe case of lack of self-awareness or an admirable one of not-giving-a-fuckery.