I'm a Model and I Shake My Little Tush on the Catwalk

Ok, so I am not a model, but I almost was. As antipodal as you can get from my experience at Wat Suan Mokh was my experience in Phuket. I stayed with my friend Nathan, who is now the project manager for a resort which is being built on a private island just east of Phuket in plain sight of those crazy islands in the James Bond movie, Man With the Golden Gun, you know, Scaramanga's hideout? As of now, nothing exists on the island. It will become a play place for the super rich, with homes starting at $10,000,000 US, not Thai baht. In-sane.

Anyway, we gorged on seafood at a beachside cafe, and then went clubbing on Saturday night to a place called Seduction. Not that seductive of a crowd, though, kinda quiet, but the DJ was thumpin'. Gorgeous place though with red velvet scroll patterned wallpaper and dim lighting that made it look like a Victorian parlor, but updated and sexy. The next day he took me to Sing Cape Beach, a secluded beach surrounded by boulders, forest, and a good 200 meter hike down from the road above on the cliffs. Lovely sand, awesome 6 ft. waves, lounge chairs, umbrella, and a waiter bringing us gin and tonics. Nice.

That night is when the real insanity started. We went to Le Orchidee, a hillside resort with cabanas in Thai style, which shared those infinity pools, so once in the pool, it appeared the water line just melted into the horizon line. And at sunset, the effect was magical. Nathan's friend Patrick is a model and director. He was managing a photo shoot for a Qatar magazine about travel to Phuket. As we were sitting on the deck, all of these models came in from the day's shooting on some local beaches. There was Alma from Estonia, an absolutely gorgeous woman from NE Brazil, and then others from parts of the world I didn't know with names I never remembered. It was surreal. Then the photographer, make-up and hair people, and various entourage entered and it was mass introductions.

Then the place exploded with energy. It was discovered the Brazillian woman needed to get to the airport to make a series of flights to Philippines. But no one ever confirmed or even booked her flight. There is one business class seat left going to Bangkok, but they will not sell it over the phone because the plane leaves in 1 hour. So Nathan, Patrick, she and I jump in Nathan's car, because he knows the roads best, and they are twisty, hilly, and treacherous. We race with great speed to the airport, while Patrick is speaking quickly to a succession of people about the situation. It turns out his friend Bong is coming in to Phuket just at that time. Bong buys the Brazillian a ticket, waits at the airport, we meet them, and the handoff occurs. Bong and his friend May are picked up in the Mercedes from Le Meridien. They race ahead of us, cut us off, and May jumps of the car screaming, Do you have any CDs? I need some house music! We oblige, and head back to the villa. It was the most tension I've felt all trip.

Everyone back at the ranch was upset that it was the Queen of Thailand's birthday, so all clubs in Phuket were closed. So we decided to party there. Electro house was pumpin' on the stereo, drinks were made, the sun sunk into the Andaman Sea, and I just couldn't believe how far I had come in 24 short hours after Suan Mokh.

Then I noticed Cham, the stunning Kashmiri woman who seemed to be running logistics, and the photographer, a Russian guy with Andy Warhol hair, maroon windowpane pants and a wife beater, staring at me and consorting.

I yelled: What did I do?
They replied: You wanna be a father figure?
Me: Huh?
Them: Can you play guitar?
Me: No, saxophone, but that was years ago.
Them: Play the guitar.
Me: I can't.
Them: Just hold it and strum.
So I do as I'm told.
They walk over and say: We want to shoot a guy who is dad to four kids, and he is teaching them to play guitar on the beach. You would be perfect.
(It only strikes me now the balance of compliment to be asked to be a model, at the same time as being told, you look like you could have fathered 4 kids by now!)

So we discuss some details, but then the party moves on, and I don't think about it. We all jump in the pool, swim, and splash. Around 6am, Nathan wants to go home, so we drive back to his house. We crash, and I wake at 11am. I try to see if I can change my flight to Kuala Lumpur, which I had already arranged, to leave that day at 4pm. No dice. I needed to give them 48 hours notice or simply buy a whole new ticket at $130. So I fly to KL, express my regrets, say my goodbyes, and leave my potential modelling career on Thailand's biggest island.

I didn't think until now to ask what I would have been paid, or even if they could have bought me a new ticket. Hell, they thought paying 80,000 baht to rent a yacht for a day was a deal. That's like $2500. But these questions will remain unanswered as I assume my ho-hum backpacker life, and leave the lifestyles of the rich and famous to those with money and fame. Bye, Paris. Hope your prison bed didn't leave any nasty sores.