No-Touch(ing)

When you make a rule you are guaranteed to find yourself faced with an immediate dilemma. I have a friend who’s voice constantly reminds me to “be careful what you ask for.” So what started as an adventure into the bowels of Manila (Queson City to be more precise) resulted in a night rife with physiological and physical challenges. And a new moniker “No-Touch.”

A miss-spoken word at the office resulted in the canceling of our satellite TV system. I should have been more guarded, but I just had to decry the fowl treatment by the Ref and judges towards the flyweight Filipino boxer. Bummer. The service was cancelled on Tuesday, just in time to miss the last show of “The Bachelor.” So you can see that there is a silver lining to this event. However as I re-adjust to a normal life beyond the confines of TV, the long hours without HBO and Star Movies to occupy my weekends has left me feeling a bit unsteady and at loose ends this past Saturday, 21 August.

So I have been double-timing it at the gym these days. How pitiful am I to spend Saturday night at Gold’s gym instead on the town in this international city? Life is an adventure. And after the adventure of last weekend, I was a bit hesitant to start another one too soon.

So Gold’s Gym is where I met Eddie. Eddie is a trainer at the gym and the biggest fellow at the gym. Though that is a bit of a hollow statement in light of the standard stature of the average Filipino. So my foreign condition (and my big shoulders) is sufficient to break the ice so Eddie and I had a bit of a yak. Then he invited me out on the town, and afterwards calls and invites another foreigner, an American named Jason. Ok, we have a crew and now the “guys” are going to paint the town red.

You see, here it is. Eddie is the man with contacts. He gets to add to those contacts and networks by being the big man and show off the foreigners. He gets status. I get the conduit – and a chauffeur – into Manila life. It is an equal trade. I do the calculations on my safety…

So Eddie (54) tells his story as we drive northward to the “discothèques.” He used to be a competitive body builder. Knows all about steroids and I.V. dextrose enhancements (whatever those are). He was in the military, and was a Marcos loyalist. Worked as a “cleaner” keeping Marcos safe. He has been married three times. The second marriage fell apart after his wife got pregnant with another man. Fell into booze and hard drugs. Found the lord and is now clean. Did some drug counseling since then. His physical bulk scored him a job with a Russian modeling agency/dance troupe as the trainer – gotta make sure the girls stay lean! Started a modeling agency. Managed a band. Takes lots of nudie pics. Met and married (3rd time lucky?) a very beautiful Russian woman. She lives and models in Russia and periodically comes to Republic of the Philippines (RP). And, it turns out; he has a preference for little girls. He carries a leather-bound bible. Currently helping Jason acquiring some guns. Interesting story – I wonder where the boundaries are?

Meanwhile Jason is a 27-year-old veteran of the 2nd Gulf war. Left the Marine Corps after 9 years at the rank of Sergeant, some 10 months ago. Jason is now on sabbatical from the LA Sheriff office, having come to RP some 2 months ago. Seems that he has a “friend” who owns a business and has just suffered a stroke. The friend needs some personal “care” and a security guard for the “business.” So in steps Jason, the hero. Jason has some things to say about the ubber-liberal press documentation regarding the events and philosophies behind the invasion (sorry, war against terrorism and WMD). He speaks like a jar-head, so talking to him is like watching a movie. He has been inculcated by the system – America only helps the underdog in only the best way - and can stand a bit of personal growth, I think. For example, he has been here for 2 months and still pines for a knife and fork to eat his meals (we eat with fork and spoon here – rice and small chunks of meat is the standard fare). Surely, as a soldier he has suffered some of life’s difficulties and has sucked a few meals out the corner of his boil-in-bag MRE, sans knife no?

So we wend our way through the traffic and small side streets. Diving deeper into sketchy neighbourhoods, deeper and deeper into the city, further and further away from the identifiable comforts of my community in Ortigas Center. We arrive to the glaring neon lights at the first “disco” entitled the LANAI. Disco is code for dance club, vis-à-vis peeler bar. Eddie knows the manager (ironically a flaming homosexual) and we are offered the VIP seats at the stage. And the girls continue to parade by. Not much actual dancing, gyrating and gymnastics, rather more like country two-stepping with an odd violent, cockroach crushing, foot-crashing split-action. Yikes. Several hours of mindless boredom here (and a 140 peso + service charge cover fee includes 2 free drinks!) we leave. Eddie wants to show us another, better (?), club. The three of us are drinking water veeery slowly – none of us has the deep pockets a night like this can generate. Eddie, as the manager’s friend, is able to fend off the bargirls thereby saving us the exorbitant cost of such company.

We hit “The Metro” in rare form. All juiced up on that water has got us revved. Eddie is trying to set Jason and me up with new ‘friends’. Or more likely, he is trying to set himself up and needs to get us occupied. I continue to claim that I am looking only – no touching. Looking is free. As the high-viz foreigner I don’t need to be arrested and/or rolled in the guts of Manila (again). Girls come and girls go. It is becoming painfully clear that this club is different from the last one – the girls are shy and awkward. Movements seem less ‘natural’ and more contrived. And then the realization is that these girls are likely pre-teen aged. While this does not necessarily suggest that their “experience” has been limited (there are special rooms available upstairs for only 1600 pesos), it does mean that their natural age and culture generated modesty has still some control of their actions.

Then Michelle comes out. She is clearly older and considerably less modest. She provides the first real “show” of the night and then…

My crushing good looks are too much for her. My baldhead and Bruce Willis look (always a hit here in action-film crazy Asia), has caused me to be singled out. Well, it is more like my pudgy foreign face is motivation enough. She grabs my hand and wants me to go on stage with her. Oh no! No way. But 250 lbs of Eddie helps clean and jerk me onto the stage. It is too much to bear, I am struggling and screaming “no touch, no touch” to no avail. It was all too much and I try to block it out. She fought like a bear but in my adrenaline spiking condition I was able to resist her attempts to get me naked and I was able to get away. Only by the skin of my teeth and not without a new title.

Eddie laughs and tries to give me what must be the hundreth 'high five' of the night. I think my arm might fall off (though, to be sure, I am more concerned about my other appendage). Meanwhile the manager of the Metro is also a friend of Eddie. The Manager, a woman this time, continues to point out each girl to the three of us. She is 16, she says, like it is the truth and it matters. “She just had her birthday last month.” Would you like her? Or how about her? I have learned that in RP it is bad form to say directly ‘No thanks”. Here it is form to say, “OK, maybe next time”. It becomes my mantra: ‘ya maybe later’. My head is on a swivel and I am constantly scanning for security issues. I am a bit sensitive these days. Eddie has his eye on one particular girl, Jasmine. Seems that he has “known” Jasmine (14 yo is my guess) before and would like to do it again. He continues to make special requests to have her on stage. Whenever she comes on stage, the house Madam goes up, collects her, and leads her around the room. The Madam commands Jasmine to sit on the clients and give out free (naked) hugs. "Here sit on him and give him a hug. Him too. Don’t forget Eddie, he is a fan." Seems like all this parading of Jasmine is a training protocol for young and fear-filled recruits. At 0400 the lights go out and we get to leave. But not before Eddie gets the cell number of Jasmine – strictly against the house rules for the girls to ‘freelance” but it seems that Eddie is successful. All this calls into question Eddie’s bible. Maybe it is simply a holster for his 9mm??

I am thinking that Eddie and I are not much of a match.