I was taking a tuk-tuk around Bangkok. Suicidal motorcycles darted in and out of the smoke-belching traffic along Sukhumvit Road. I sat in the back of a three-wheeled motorbike taxi and took a deep breath of the polluted air, the stench of open sewers mingling with the aroma of spicy Thai food cooking in the open air. I had stopped over in Bangkok to stay with Romy, a friend from high school, who was working there as a fashion photographer. For me the city was a starting point for traveling around Southeast Asia for the summer.

I had been taking in some of the sights of the city. It was the end of the day and my face felt gritty with soot and sweat and my hair bristled with smog dandruff. I passed wooden stalls selling pirated DVDs and fake Lacoste shirts and squat sidewalk restaurants selling fried squid and steaming bowls of spicy green curry.

When the tuk-tuk dropped me off, I stepped onto the sidewalk’s crumbling pavement, careful not to trip into a crevice filled with plastic bags, tin cans and a dead rat. I met Romy at the night market in Pat Pong. As we walked along the street, men standing outside the go go bars displayed the menus for ping pong shows. We turned a corner and walked down a main street. Street vendors behind their stalls were selling counterfeit designer clothes and pirate cassette tapes. A transvestite pranced along, giggling as she flirted with unsuspecting straight men.

When we arrived at a go go bar it was already crowded with Thai bar-girls and tourists. Women in bikinis were dancing around brass poles on the stage as we waded up to the bar where courteous waiters with bleached, short-cropped hair wrapped paper serviettes around the beer to keep the customers’ hands from getting cold. The bar-girls were friendly and flirted with us.

“What’s your name?” I asked a girl with mascara-circled eyes, standing beside me by the bar.

“My name…Somjai.” She sat on the stool beside me and ordered herself a cocktail.

“Been in Thailand long?” she asked

“Few days.”

“You like Bangkok?”

“Seems a fun place…too hot though. When you step out an aircon building, the heat practically knocks you back.”

The young woman sitting beside Romy was whispering in his ear. He smiled and bought her a cocktail.

“You’re very beautiful,” I heard him say. “You should be a model.”

“Oh, yes? You say this true?”

“Of course and I should know. I’m a fashion photographer.”

“When I am small, I always dream to be model-girl.”

“Would you be willing to do swim suit commercials?”

“Yes, please!”

Romy smiled. “Can you project your sensuality to the camera.”

“Oo, yes I can. I am very sexy lady.”

“I can tell.”

When we were ready to leave, Romy reached into his wallet, flashed a slim, gold card-holder, flipped it open and handed her a calling card. Silhouette Modeling Agency. You want to be famous? – Call us.