Tag Archives: Asian Escapades

Mark Smith | Faces of Angeles City

Mark Smith AKA AC Sheriff.

I cannot say with absolute certainty when I first met Mark Smith but I seem to remember being introduced to him in passing in 1991. At the time I was bar hopping with a friend and I remember thinking how neat, tidy, organized and functional Roadhouse was, especially when compared to most other bars on M.H.Del Pilar. I also remember thinking, it’s nice but somehow a little bit sterile, plus there was never a great number of girls to draw my attention, so my visits here were destined to become infrequent.

With it’s hundreds of girls, bright lights, and its heady party atmosphere, Visions in Ermita was for me the ultimate club and I desperately wanted a chance to manage it. Mark Smith, albeit unknowingly, was to help me achieve this goal.

In his early days Mark was a hard drinking man and his drink of choice was Wild Turkey bourbon. Like most Go-Go bars a large percentage of Roadhouse revenue came from alcohol sales, and drinking battles where obscene amounts of alcohol are consumed, were a common occurrence. On one such occasion Mark got involved in a heavy bourbon drinking competition with a guy called John Rollins. John Rollins was an established big spender in Visions and when he appeared in Roadhouse running his mouth about how much he could drink, it was an irresistible challenge for Mark Smith.

During the course of the evening Rollins let it slip that he had been offered the job as the next manager of Visions. At the time there was no love lost between Mark Smith and the Visions general manager John Reed, so when he heard Rollins news, combined with the fact that Rollins had been running his mouth, it was for Mark, like a red flag to a bull. That night Mark set out to destroy John Rollins and the end result was a totally trashed Rollins hugging the Roadhouse toilet bowl, surrounded by a pool of his own vomit. Hardly an auspicious start for an aspiring bar manager and it was made worse by someone taking photos of the event, having them developed, then slipping them under the front door of Visions with an attached note saying, “your new manager”.

The end result of this was that Rollins got overlooked for the job at Visions and I got the nod.

In retrospect looking at the events of that night as an outsider, I do not attribute Mark Smith with any ill feelings towards John Rollins. Indeed, if some young punk had come into my bar boasting about how much he could drink, and what a good bar manager he was going to be in an opposition bar, I would probably set out to teach him a lesson as well. The irony is, that at the end of the day, Mark Smith was right. The last thing a bar needs is a manager who doesn’t know his limits when it comes to drinking, and thanks to Mark Smith, John Rollins learned this lesson in a hurry.

Okay, taking the photos and having them delivered to John Reed was not exactly taking the moral high ground and certainly was a little bit petty, but here is where life’s delicious irony comes into play. After getting knocked back for the job in Visions, John Rollins landed the job as manager of Firehouse, which at the time was regarded as the premier bar in Manila and certainly paid more than Visions ever would. Had he gotten the job in Visions he would never of had the opportunity to work in Firehouse.

As William Shakespeare so aptly wrote, “All’s well that ends well” or put another way, ‘one door closes and another one opens’.

Mark Smith was an interesting character who certainly left his mark on Angeles City Philippines. He was an intriguing mix of bull headedness and Machiavellian like manipulation. He would approach most problems like a bull in a china shop, running head first against any obstacles, using a iron like will and dogged determination to break through the barriers. When he took this approach, I used to refer to him as being in Juggernaut mode, immovable, unwavering, and unstoppable. The driving strength behind Mark Smith was that he unfaltering believed his way was the right way, and when combined with his unflagging determination, this made him a force to be reckoned with.

Bullish behavior and extreme obstinacy were traits often associated with Mark Smith, but believe it or not, he could actually exercise diplomacy, and at times verged on Machiavellian like, behind the scenes maneuvering. I think in some ways Mark Smith emphasized the bullish approach because it was natural for him, and because it disguised his behind the scenes maneuvers. People came to associate Mark Smith with the bull in a china shop approach and couldn’t believe he was capable of the deft behind the scenes maneuvers, until it was to late.

In his early years Mark Smith spent some time in the navy and I think this instilled in him a respect for discipline and orderliness, as well as an understanding of the chain of command. Whenever the navy or the air-force were in Angeles City Philippines, Mark would make it a point to get to know the officers and they would invariably end up drinking in Roadhouse bar in Angeles City Philippines. I always thought this was an astute business move on Marks behalf but I think for Mark it went beyond business. Looking at it in retrospect I believe Mark Smith had a genuine respect for members of the armed forces (especially Americans) and when he played host to them he was congenial, organized and respectful. He emphasized the “thank you for serving approach” before the term even existed and in so doing encouraged them to visit his bar in Angeles City Philippines.

The respect for rank and authority was deeply ingrained in Mark Smith and he had the unique ability to convert this into the business environment of both Manila and Angeles City Philippines. During his early days with Roadhouse in Ermita Mark Smith became friends with many American embassy personnel. As a result Roadhouse was always on their list when they hit the town for a drink and some fun. Indeed Roadhouse was unofficially sanctioned as an American embassy friendly bar and a safe environment for them to drink in. This did wonders for Marks bottom line and as far as I know Roadhouse always turned a profit, even in Angeles City Philippines during the slow years directly after Pinatubo exploded.

In some ways Mark Smith was very black and white. Mark Smith in many ways preferred the direct approach, especially when it came to dealing with the Filipino’s in power in Angeles City Philippines. I distinctly remember when Alfredo Lim was closing down Ermita, Mark Smith pulled some strings and managed to get an appointment to see the mayor and talk about why he was harassing the bars. Mark came away from that meeting with a positive outlook and proceeded to tell all the other bar owners what Lim had told him. Basically Lim had said no bar-fines, no bikinis, and no loud music outside the bars. Mark Smith now had his guidelines and he responded accordingly. He got rid of the Roadhouse bikini and replaced it with tight crotch hugging shorts and a white cut off top. He abolished bar fines and he turned down the music and lighting outside Roadhouse. 3 weeks later Lim was raiding again and one of the first bars closed was Roadhouse, even though Mark Smith had complied with Lim’s instructions to the letter.

The respect for rank, or perhaps a respect for power and authority, never left Mark and he applied the same approach when dealing with the Filipino power players in Angeles City Philippines. In the late nineties early two thousands the Angeles bar scene and entertainment structure was expanding rapidly. Large amounts of money were being invested in Angeles City Philippines new hotels, new bars, new restaurants etc and all of this was occurring under the investment friendly mayor Carmelo Lazatin. Lazatin was a political master and seasoned politician plus he was ostensibly foreigner friendly, as such it was only natural that Mark Smith should develop strong ties and work closely with him when he was Mayor of Angeles City Philippines.

For Mark, Lazatin represented the top of the local chain of command. He was the Angeles City Philippines ships captain and Mark Smith his liaison officer for the foreign community. Mark worked closely with the mayor on many projects including the ill fated Angeles hospital and at one stage he even had his own office in the Angeles City Philippines City Hall.

Being close to the mayor of Angeles City Philippines has definite advantages but also definite disadvantages. One of the disadvantages is that other foreigners living in Angeles City Philippines will automatically view your actions with suspicion, as will many Filipinos. During those years there were many negative stories regarding Mark Smith and his closeness with the mayor of Angeles City Philippines, but most of them in my opinion, were just the product of jealousy and resentment.

I think Mark Smith truly believed that his actions were in the best interest of the town Angeles City Philippines and the bar business as a whole. However whilst this might be true I think it’s also important to note that Mark Smith was definitely ego driven. For a while there he really saw himself as being the sheriff of Angeles City Philippines, dispensing law and order to wrong doers. Whilst it is true that he did work closely with the local cops and local politicians, he was in no way the Angeles City Philippines sheriff and had no power over his fellow foreigners when it came to living and existing in Angeles City Philippines. I believe that to some extent Mark Smith suffered from what I call the Short Aggressive Male (SAM) syndrome. Others have coined the term Napoleon complex but despite the different names, the behavioral traits are much the same. Men with this complex are normally short in stature and they compensate for this with aggressive behavior and a desire to dominate the actions of others. There was definitely an element of this in Mark Smith and this vibe was picked up by many residents of Angeles City Philippines.

In the year 2000 I was based down in Makati and I remember my boss at the time asking me “why is Mark Smith so close with the Angeles City Philippines mayor” I don’t get that, doesn’t he realize what will happen when the mayor finishes his term and a new mayor is elected in Angeles City Philippines”? He was referring to the Filipino politicians habit of purging the old regime and replacing it with their own people. In some ways I think my old boss was right and I am pretty sure the change in political power brokers contributed to hasten Mark Smiths departure from Angeles City Philippines.

Please don’t get me wrong here I am not saying he was run out of Angeles City Philippines or anything like that., but lets just say the new Angeles City Philippines administration did not exactly look kindly at a foreigner who had been so close to the preceding administration. Being a Filipino and involved in local politics of Angeles City Philippines is one thing, being a foreigner and involved in local politics of Angeles City Philippines is another thing altogether. For me I believe Mark Smith was getting ready to split from Angeles City Philippines anyway and the new administration with their hostile attitude just hastened his decision.

When he left Angeles City Philippines Mark Smith was at a stage in his life where he was ready to get out. He had suffered from a heart attack and as a result had curtailed the drinking and smoking. He had done many years in the Roadhouse bar Angeles City Philippines and it was becoming old for him. He had lost his enthusiasm for the business and he was no longer a power player in Angeles City Philippines. His son was at an age where he needed to go to America and get a proper education and the new administration in Angeles City Philippines were not exactly friendly. He had done significant numbers of women, he had lived the life and had his proverbial five minutes of fame. He had been a significant power player in Angeles City Philippines, he had outlasted many of his detractors and he had proven that he could run a successful bar in Angeles City Philippines that made money and people liked.

Lastly and perhaps most importantly I think Mark to some extent could see the writing on the wall. His existing customer base was getting old and no longer spending money in Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines like they used to. Then to make matters worse, as the old market died off it wasn’t being replaced by a new younger market. The result of this was lower sales and declining profit margin for Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines. Add to this there were now several new players in Angeles City Philippines (Blue Nile Group and Dollhouse group) with big money behind them and they represented some serious competition for a niche market bar like Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines. Then to top it all off the storm cloud in the form of human trafficking was beginning to rear it’s ugly head. I think all of these factors combined to make Mark realize it was time to get out of Angeles City Philippines.

Mark Smith like many who become involved in the Angeles City Philippines bar scene was somewhat of an enigma. From what I can gather he did not have extensive schooling and he was very much a self made man. Nearly everything he got, he got from hard work, long hours, dogged determination, and an unflinching belief that his was the right way. From his time in Taiwan he could speak Fuken and Mandarin fluently and yet despite visiting and living in the Philippines for twenty something years, he only knew about twenty words of Tagalog.

When it came to women he was impulsive to the point of ridiculousness. Once he set his eyes on a girl he liked he would become fixated and would do whatever he felt was necessary to make her his own. He was actually married and divorced six times, and as far as I can gather, all of his wives were Filipinas.

Mark was certainly intense and demanding. He was a stickler for rules and authority. Appearances mattered to him and he would always pass a rule that his managers in Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines had to wear a collared shirt, decent pants and clean shoes. At the time he was the only one in Angeles City Philippines who did this and his insistence on a certain standard in appearance was typical of how he saw the bar business and Roadhouse’s place in it in Angeles City Philippines.

He saw Roadhouse as being the cleanest, most efficient bar in Angeles City Philippines, and thanks to Mark Smiths unrelenting eye for detail, it was exactly that. He ran Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines like a staff sergeant would run an army barracks. The staff would all report to work on time, the staff would all have assigned duties which Mark would check to see if they had been done correctly, the place was spotlessly clean, and in as good condition when he left it as the day he built it in Angeles City Philippines. His bar staff headed by Olive were second to none and the service in Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines was always exemplary. The toilets were the cleanest in Angeles City Philippines, the drinks were always served in the right glass, the beer was always cold, the popcorn always warm. The music was rock and roll, and the girls all had to do the Thunderstruck routine with no exceptions. The girls all wore the same uniform, the same red shoes and the same garter belt placed the same distance above the knee.

Some people found Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines boring and stiflingly regulated. Others appreciated the orderliness, cleanliness and consistency. Whenever you entered Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines you knew exactly what to expect and while Mark Smith was at the reigns this was never going to change. Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines was a bar that attracted a certain type of big spender. Normally these guys appreciated the Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines environment, they liked the orderliness, the professionalism of the bar staff, and the organization of the dancers. Most importantly the customers liked the feeling of being in control. They liked the idea of being the center of attention, being king for a minute and being “the man” in Angeles City Philippines. Still to this day I think Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines has more bell rings than any other bar in the history of the Philippine bar industry.

Just as there were people who really liked Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines, there were also those who hated it. These people would invariably shake their heads when the waitresses would rush to light their cigarette, they couldn’t comprehend why people would ring the bell and claim that Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines was a great party bar, when for them it was regulated and boring. Most importantly they couldn’t understand why anyone would enjoy a bar that had so few dancers and all the dancers seemed like robots.

By running Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines like he did, Mark Smith always had a problem getting enough girls to work there. The simple truth of the matter was they didn’t like the music, they didn’t like the hard red shoes which hurt their feet, and they didn’t like the rules and regulations or the way they were enforced. They didn’t like the strict rigidity of Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines and they didn’t like Mark Smith whom they saw as being very strict and “bastos”. Marks rigid approach and ruling the roost with an iron fist may have been appreciated by some customers but it did nothing to entice the girls, and this is why he always had a problem attracting girls to work in Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines.

Having said that over the years there have been some absolute beauties who have graced the Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines stage, and these girls have become the stuff of legends Many have gone on to lead happy married lives in other countries, whilst others have simply faded into the fabric of Filipino society.

To his credit Mark Smith wasn’t afraid to diversify and during his time in Angeles City Philippines he dabbled in many different fields. From the Angeles City flying club and the computer based chat room Jade Cool, through to an open air steak house where Salvatore’s now stands, managing pick up disco, managing the Royal Amsterdam hotel, and even having a small role in the ill fated slot machines of the Blue Nile group. Mark Smith was involved in many different ventures in Angeles City Philippines. To his credit Mark Smith was never afraid to take on a new challenge and whenever he turned his attention to a new project he would give 100% effort.

Marks forceful personality and uncompromising approach did not exactly make him mister popular in Angeles City Philippines. But Mark was never one to worry about his popularity. He had a few long term friends and these he treasured, the rest were just acquaintances or business relationships. Some people whom at one stage he was close to became his enemies and I think this had a lot to do with Marks domineering bullish approach.

Among the Filipinos he was for the most part disliked, but then again with his demanding ways, his expectation of strict compliance to the rules and his forceful uncompromising demeanor, the dislike was almost inevitable. Juxtaposed to the vast majority of Filipinos there was Olive and Girlie who were loyal and devoted to Mark Smith as any human being could be. Both these ladies had their lives inextricably entwined with Marks and their respect for hard ass Mark Smith was never ending. They both realized where their bread was buttered but beyond this they both had tremendous respect for him as a boss in Angeles City Philippines and as a friend. Mark demanded perfection from them and on most occasions he got it.

When he sold Roadhouse in Angeles City Philippines to Mo one of his stipulations was that Olive and Girlie keep their positions. This was partly Marks way of thanking them for the many years of loyal service and friendship they had given him. In my opinion the respect was a mutual thing and to his credit, Mark trod the delicate line between being the boss and being a friend extremely well.

If truth be known I think Mark Smith did an amazing job training Olive and I am willing to bet she could hold her own in any bar in the world. Her standard of service was exemplary and the way she controlled and taught the Filipina waitresses was second to none in Angeles City Philippines. This lady could write her own ticket as far as I’m concerned. I have no idea where she is now but wherever she is I hope she is happy and doing well.

Mark Smith has left behind him a legacy in the form of Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines and even though in its present form it is radically different from what it was in Marks day, whenever I visit there, fond memories come rushing back of my time in Angeles City Philippines. As far as I know Mark Smith currently resides in Vegas where he has established himself and reportedly has put Angeles City Philippines in the very distant past. Mark Smith was in many ways a force to be reckoned with. His legacy in the form of Gilleys Roadhouse Angeles City Philippines will probably survive for many years to come, and for me at least, it will always be a reminder of the man who created it…..Mark Smith The Angeles City Philippines sheriff.

John Hammer | Faces of Angeles City

In this new series of articles I will relate a few stories, about some of the colorful characters I have met during my time as a bar manager, both in Manila and Angeles. To begin I will start with a man that I called John Hammer.

From the outset I just want to make it clear that I will refer to John as John Hammer. I have no idea how he spelled his last name, but for me he was always the Hammer man, and so he shall remain in my writings.

Here was a man larger than life. He was big, he was strong, he punched like a sledge hammer, drank like a fish and fucked like a rabbit. He was loud, he was in your face and he lived life at a frenetic pace. In juxtaposition to his exterior bravado, the man had a keen and subtle sense of humor, and was even prone to moments of deep reflection. He was an enigmatic character who lived life on the edge and left a legacy on the bar scene of Angeles City Philippines.

As Neil Young so emphatically sang “it’s better to burn out than to fade away” and this is what Hammer did. He danced close to the flames, and in the end, like so many of the Angeles wild men, they consumed him.

John was one of these larger than life characters who seemed to attract people like moths to a burning flame. Hammer attracted all sorts of people, from all walks of life. From the sycophantic hangers on, the wannabe tough guys, the wheeler dealers, the seedy nondescript shadow dwellers, the gangsters and even a smattering of intellectuals, they all knew the Hammer man. If you visited Angeles City Philippines back then no trip was complete without meeting John Hammer.

I first met Hammer in 1992 when I was running Visions in M.H.Del Pilar, Ermita Manila. This was before he ever entered the fray of Angeles City Philippines. He strolled into Visions looking like he owned the place, and I remember watching the crowd disperse before him, a bit like Moses and the Red Sea. My boss at the time John Reed, saw him coming and whispered in my ear, “watch out for this guy he can drink like a fish and likes to fight”. With that said John Reed made a quick exit out the back door, leaving me to entertain the Hammer man.

Hammer made his way to the managers table, sat down and said “you the manager”, to which I replied, “sure am” and he then said, “well get some drinks in”. At this time I had only been running the bar for 2 months, and having a man pressure me to get the first round in was a unique experience. I looked at Hammer in his muscle shirt and thought to myself, he is to big to argue with, so stuff it, I will get the first round in and let’s see what happens from there. As it turned out we had one hell of a session which lasted well into the early hours of the evening and I came away from it physically unscathed and thinking, this John Hammer is a pretty good guy.

During our drinking session Hammer would always buy his share, and while plying three of the hottest girls in Visions with Tequila, would regale me with stories of his adventures in Thailand. By the end of the session he dismissed the 3 inebriated girls, called down two sober ones, paid their bar-fines, and the last I saw of him was the big man strolling out of Visions with two seemingly minute Filipinas tucked under his large arms.

Hammer resurfaced again in 1994 (I believe it was) but this time in Angeles City Philippines. Hammer was never one to work for people, as in his mind he believed the only way to make money was to work for oneself, and be your own boss. This however was easier said than done, especially when you had no start up capital. However Hammer was never one to be perturbed by little obstacles such as shortage of money, and next thing we knew, he had made a deal with the boys from the Orchid Inn to take over the at the empty lot of land where Kokomo’s now stands. This was the beginning of Hammers career in Angeles City Philippines.

Named after the Marine Bar nightclub in Pattaya Thailand, (for some reason both Kelly and Hammer were big fans of the Marine Bar) this was, like most of Hammers projects in Angeles City Philippines, destined for a short life span. Throughout his time in Angeles City Philippines John kept on popping up with different projects, the majority of which were interesting, but never seemed to make him any money. A perfect example of this was the Marine Bar complex. This was an outside venue which featured a boxing ring where the girls from various bars would fight for prize money using over-sized boxing gloves. These fights were never really serious because the gloves were sometimes bigger than the girls themselves, but someone forgot to tell the girls this, and on many an occasion the fights would be more like a brawl than a boxing match. For small framed Asian girls these girls certainly packed a wallop, and they would always take the fight seriously, much to the crowds amusement.

At the time I am not sure Angeles City Philippines was ready for such a venue. Having said that I find it interesting to note that there is now a bar in Makati Manila Philippines doing exactly the same thing.

The fights would happen twice a week and always draw a decent crowd, but the problem was, when the fights were not happening the place was virtually deserted. Back then it was common for different groups to go bar hopping, the biggest of which was the Hash House Harriers. The Hash guys would normally make a beeline for places like the Marine Bar Complex because the beer was cheaper, and it was outdoors with plenty of space. In their own little way the HHH boys, and groups like them, kept Hammers head above water. The Marine Bar Complex was never going to produce bundles of money but at least it was something different, and provided an alternative source of entertainment for jaded Angeles City Philippines expats.

In Angeles City Philippines they will try just about anything to make money, and John Hammer was no exception. The Marine Bar Complex became home for the crocodile that the Orchid Inn boys had inherited from Lovebirds bar in Ermita. What the crocodile was doing in Lovebirds I have no idea and how it ended up in Angeles City Philippines also has me beat, but here it was, and Hammer not being one to let an opportunity pass him by, started feed the crocodile shows. People would pay to come and feed the crocodile and on some days you would see a crowd of girls and guys all lining up to throw some chicken at it. At first the crocodile was ravenous and would demolish the chicken in seconds, however as time went on, it became lackadaisical and even sluggish, seeming to lose interest in the continual supply of chicken. Not sure what happened to that crocodile but I have heard it died from being overfed, which is no surprise considering the amount of people feeding it chicken everyday.

After the Marine bar complex folded, John surfaced running Ziggys bar, now known as Brown Sugar. I will admit Hammer had Ziggys Angeles City Philippines going pretty well. He would sit at the end in the raised section of the bar and let the crowd gravitate to him. He never had to actively seek out anyone to drink with, on the contrary they would flock to him, all hoping to drink and rub shoulders with this larger than life, alpha male, John Hammer. Ziggys Angeles City Philippines was an interesting bar and prior to Pinatubo it had been one of the best bars in Angeles City Philippines. It was a weird design with a dressing room underneath the dance stage, and watching the girls come up from the depth of the building was a bizarre experience. They never came up in a group but rather one by one. The stage at Ziggys was long and in the center of the bar and yet there would only very rarely be more than ten dancers performing at any one time. Every ten minutes one or two dancers would come up from beneath the stage, and one or two would leave the stage from the front. This was like a mini production line of girls as opposed to two separate groups of dancers. For me this approach never worked as I had been schooled in the Manila way which basically meant, pile as many girls on stage as you could, and let the mayhem reign supreme.

I worked with Hammer running Ziggys Angeles City Philippines for 3 weeks and although on the surface he seemed to be having a good time, if you looked closely you could see he wasn’t exactly content. Hammer was never content working for somebody else and during his time in Ziggys Angeles City Philippines it was obvious to me his heart wasn’t really in it. There was a certain imperiousness about Hammer, as if he thought he was better than everybody else, and he certainly wasn’t about to waste any time on you if you weren’t going to spend any money. I got the impression that in the end he decided bar management in Angeles City Philippines was a losers game with no real future, even if you were the big fish in a small pond.

After Ziggys Angeles City Philippines, Hammer surfaced again in Manila, this time running the much renowned Vixens situated on the service road running adjacent to Roxas Boulevard in Pasay Manila. The scene here was much more to his liking. This was a big club with literally hundreds of girls and a steady supply of customers from all corners of the globe. This was the big pond and in true Hammer style, big John set out to leave his mark. Every night in Vixens like its predecessor Visions, was party time, and Hammer would sit up the back orchestrating things like a master conductor. As usual there was never a shortage of people to drink with except this time there were substantially more girls, so at the end of the day, the bar could still make money through bar fines rather than the managers liver.

Vixens was run by John Reed and Fred Thompson of Visions fame and they were joined by a friend of Fred’s from Thailand named John Scott. Vixens quickly developed an excellent reputation as having the hottest girls, the right pricing and a party atmosphere second to none. At this stage it’s only real competition was the Firehouse complex in Edsa, but that was a far second in my opinion.

John Hammer seemed to fit in here, but again he wasn’t completely happy. I don’t know for sure but I think he still yearned for a chance to do his own thing, rather than making other people rich.

John had been working in Vixens for about 8 months when suddenly he showed up in Angeles City Philippines again. It took him all of ten minutes to find out my whereabouts and in he walks with an offer to good to refuse. He strode up to the managers table and said, “listen buddy we have to talk”. Now when John Hammer says we have to talk most people pay instant attention and I was no different, so I replied “okay mate but what are we going to talk about”. Upon hearing this Hammer smiled and said, “your future back in Manila, you need to come get some”.

Hammer then got some drinks in and proceeded to give me a spiel on why I needed to come back and work with him in Manila running Vixens. He was there for about an hour pitching me but I was still undecided until he said the magic words, ‘buddy they need you and you need them. Angeles City Philippines is small fry, you need to come home and play with the big boys”. With that he gave me the finger click and his “get some”, paid his bill and said, “I’ll be round your house tomorrow, we’re going down to Manila”.

Sure enough at a disgustingly early hour the next morning Hammer and driver were outside my place. Next thing I knew I was being bundled into the car and we were leaving Angeles City Philippines, heading down to Manila. I did about 9 months in Manila with Hammer running Vixens, but for me it was somehow very different from both the Visions that I had known and loved so much. Even though it was basically the same people behind Vixens as were behind Visions 1 and 2, for me it just didn’t have the same feel. Having never worked in Visions 1 or 2, Hammer had no point of comparison, so for him this was all new and exciting. He was right at home in Vixens and would always hold court in the back section with his main customers being US Marines attached to the American embassy. Hammer would start the drinking and the sessions would continue until the last man standing. When I worked in Makati I would do the same with the embassy marines, and I would take perverse satisfaction in knowing the alcohol they had consumed the night before, would invariably be thrown up on their morning 5 mile run.

I ran into John Hammer again when he returned to Angeles City Philippines, found some investors and built Thunderstruck. Once again Hammer was trying to do his own thing and using OPM (Other Peoples Money) as his foundation. During his time at Thunderstruck Angeles City Philippines, I only got to see Hammer on the rare occasion as I was based in Makati, but I would hear the stories, and in a very short time Thunderstruck became Angeles City Philippines, premier party bar.

Thunderstruck Angeles City Philippines in my opinion boasted a sort of pub with pussy atmosphere. They had some nice looking dancers there, but it seemed to me that the main appeal of Thunderstruck Angeles City Philippines was as a place to hang out with ones friends and swap stories, over more than a few alcoholic beverages.

When it first started out Hammer would be there every night with drink in hand, holding court. As time progressed Hammer would spend less time in the bar, preferring instead to work out at the gym, ride his Harley or try to work his latest get rich quick scheme. This was one of Hammers hallmarks, and although he drank a lot, I always got the impression drinking was a means to an end for him. He drank calculatingly, not because he enjoyed it. I think at the end of the day Hammer was much more at home working out, fighting, or wheeling and dealing, than he was drinking in a bar in Angeles City Philippines.

I can still remember clear as day how I found out about Hammers murder. I was lying in my bed in Makati when a text came through from a very good friend of mine, who is a Mad Dog MC member and used to make regular trips to Angeles City Philippines. The text simply read “John Hammer is dead”. Upon reading this I at first couldn’t believe my eyes and I text back, “is this a joke mate”, only to receive another text saying, “no mate I’m serious. He was murdered this morning on his way home”.

Johns death had a profound effect on many people, and I think this was for a number of reasons. Firstly, he had always seemed larger than life, almost invincible, and to see him so brutally gunned down, was both a reminder that nobody is bullet proof, and certainly a reminder of ones own mortality. A second reason why his death was so shocking was because of the way it was done. They ambushed him on the little bridge at Hensonville, thus making sure he had no chance of escape. They riddled him full of bullets using automatic guns, and even emptied a few rounds into him when he was lying on the ground with his girlfriend beneath him. This was a contract killing and to this day nobody is 100% sure who did it or why. Hammers was the first paid for hit in Angeles City Philippines, that I can remember. Yes there had been other foreigners killed in Angeles City Philippines, prior to him, but none so brutally, and none so obviously an assassination.

There are various theories as to why Hammer was assassinated ranging from an old grudge in Thailand, through to him beating up the wrong people in Angeles City Philippines, his fallout with his investors in Thunderstruck in Angeles City Philippines or Hammers dubious acquisition of a “boiler room” phone list. To be honest I have no idea if any of these theories is correct. All I know is that it was a brutal murder, and I for one miss the man.

There are many stories surrounding Hammers death but I will leave those for when I write my book or blog. The big man certainly left his mark on Angeles City Philippines and for now I can only say RIP big John, and I hope you are riding your Harley on that long open highway in the sky.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 68

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 68:

New friends

By the time I had woken up and MayAnne had departed it was late afternoon and for some reason I was feeling kind of drained so I decided to stay in the hotel that night or if it got to boring to restrict my bar hopping activities to the immediate area around the Maharajah. To be honest I was little worried about running into Wally as his aggravation was something I didn’t need and I was also a bit hesitant to go back to the vicinity of Ziggys where MayAnne could lay claim to me again. This girl had already dug her fingers in and I wasn’t about to help her solidify her position.

At this stage of my short but illustrious mongering career I had decided that single life is the way to go and to forget about these relationships. Of course like most men, in the long run I was in the end unable to live up this creed, but it felt right at the time, and for the next five years I certainly tried to make mongering freedom my reality.

I decided a brisk dip in the pool would wake me up and maybe a few laps would get the blood flowing again, so I grabbed a towel and headed out to the pool. Being after 5 there was literally nobody else in the pool and I decided to make the most of the opportunity and swim a few laps. Growing up near the beach I had always been a competent swimmer and doing laps of a pool or swimming in the surf was a regular occurrence in my youth and I was completely unaware a large number of Filipinos cannot swim.

I dived in the pool and started gently swimming laps and after completing about ten I stopped for a breather and suddenly I felt eyes upon me. I looked around and sure enough there in the restaurant area were three women and two guys just staring at me. Not sure what had them so enthralled I simply smiled at them and waved to which I received a smile back from all of them and then they carried on their conversation with the occasional furtive glance in my direction.

After the swim I was feeling like a new man and I had definitely worked up a hunger, so I headed over to the restaurant area, only to come face to face with two of the women who had been watching me swim. When I saw them I smiled and said, “hello girls is there any chance I can order some food because all that swimming has made me hungry”. Both the young ladies looked away from me and turned their heads as they giggled. Right about now I wasn’t sure what to do so I just took a seat at one of the tables and said, “can I have a menu please”? This bought another series of giggles and both the girls scurried away leaving me sitting in the restaurant by myself.

I had been sitting there for about two minutes and was just about to get out of my seat and berate the staff for their non existent service when from behind some closed doors a man appeared and presented me with a menu. I surveyed the menu and to say it was limited would be an understatement. I looked at the guy who was standing beside me waiting for my order and said can you recommend something as I don’t see anything that really sparks my interest here”. He looked at me with a look of benign amusement on his features and replied, I recommend the pork and chicken adobo. Everybody like that. “Okay” I said, I will have the adobo and to drink I would like a coke please”.

He took my order, took back the menu and exited the restaurant, once again leaving me sitting there with my own thoughts. I had no idea how long the food would take and I was just about to go back to my room to get a book to read when from behind me I heard the giggling again. I turned around and there were the two girls just staring at me and giggling. By this time I was totally perplexed and rather than just ignore the situation I decided to confront them and find out what was so amusing. I got out of my seat and smiled at the girls then I asked, “would you ladies care to join me for a drink”?

The girls looked at me somewhat aghast and both just stood there giggling. Thinking they didn’t understand I made the motions indicating drinking and they both giggled again and slowly made their way towards my table. When they reached me I offered them each a chair which they hesitatingly took and I asked them very slowly, “what can I buy for you ladies to drink”? In response I got another giggle and then one of them replied, “we like sprite”.

With the ice partially broken I thought I was on a roll and I was just about to get up and hunt down a waiter when one of the girls said, “I be the one” and with that she rose and disappeared into the kitchen area. Literally 1 minute later she was back with two sprites which both the girls proceeded to sip on while staring and giggling at me. By this time I was a completely nonplused. I literally had no idea what was going on or why these girls were seemingly fixated with me but not being one to let a challenge like this get the better of me I decided to put in some work and find out what the heck was going on.

While I waited for my food we made halting small talk and I found out both the girls worked at the hotel in the kitchen. These two sweet young women must have been about 22 but both had the childlike sense of humor that made them seem so much younger. It was hard for me to ascertain just how much they understood because they would only speak English sparingly and most of the time would chat with each other in Tagalog and simply giggle.

After about 15 minutes my food was delivered and as the waiter approached our table I thought I detected a sour look on his face so I said to him, “hey mate you have been a really good waiter could I buy you a drink or something just to say thank you”. The waiter seemed a little nonplused by my sudden offer and after a quick chat with the girls he said to me in English, “sure why not but what we would really like is some food”.

Then it hit me, these guys probably see guests pigging out on food all the time while they have bugger all money to buy anything for themselves and as this realization dawned I made what turned out to be a very fortuitous decision. I looked at him squarely in the eyes and replied, “how many of you guys are there in the kitchen” to which he replied, “two more” and I said, “well if it’s allowed, how about I buy a meal for everyone here”. The waiter looked at me seemingly in shock and then as my offer began to sink in he replied, “for a while sir” and went scurrying back into the kitchen.

After what seemed like ages but was probably only a matter of minutes he returned and said, “sir if it’s okay to you we would like crispy pata”. At this stage I had no idea what crispy pata was so I simply smiled and replied, “that’s cool with me man, crispy pata it is”.

From that point on the night began to get interesting. It must have been about half an hour later when three Filipino guys came and joined our table bringing with them a huge dish of what looked like pork but with all the bones and fat still attached. I was in later years to learn this is what is called crispy pata and it is considered a delicacy here in the Philippines but at this stage I was still a ‘newbie’ and just going along with the flow.

The three guys joined our table and before long we were all getting along like a house on fire with everyone telling jokes and me relating stories about my country and also my experiences in the Philippines. The guys certainly seemed friendly enough and after the meal they suggested we have a few beers and play some cards. I asked the girls if they thought this was a good idea and each of them smiled and nodded their ascent. Within seconds there appeared 3 bottles of San Miguel in a bucket of ice and a fourth one that had already been opened along with a glass of ice.

Having come from Australia I considered drinking beer with ice sacrilegious but it was very obvious to me that this was how it was done in the Philippines and not wishing to offend the locals I simply decided to go with the flow and drink the beer over ice like they did.

No sooner had the beer appeared than the dishes were cleared away and a pack of cards produced. The guys told me this was a game called pusoy dos and asked if I knew how to play. I replied in the negative and said I would just watch a few hands first and see if I could pick it up. As it turned out Pusoy Dos is very similar to Jim Rummy but with a few extra twists and rules so it really wasn’t that hard for me to pick up. I watched about five hands as well as partaking in a chug of beer each time the glass was presented and I then felt I had got the basics of the game and it was time for me to join in.

The details of that night are a bit hazy as the beer seemed to be on a never ending tap and every 5 minutes the glass was in my hand with the Filipinos encouraging me to drink it down in one. To this day I am pretty sure I never won a single hand but then again it didn’t seem to matter because we were all having such a great time and the hours seemed to fly by.

Even though the communication barrier was very much in effect that didn’t seem to stop us from becoming friends and understanding each other. I was having a thoroughly enjoyable time with my new found friends when suddenly I noticed it was 1:AM and with the beer buzzing my head I announced that it was past my bedtime and I would see them all tomorrow.

Feeling somewhat drunk I raised myself to a standing position smiled at the girls and said good night politely, then I shook each guys hand and assured them we would play again tomorrow night. With goodbyes said I now stumbled back to my room which luckily for me wasn’t far away, I opened the door, turned on the light and then without even bothering to get undressed flopped on the bed.

I have no idea how long I lay there in a drunken stupor but I remember being woken up by a gentle but consistent knocking on my door. With blurry eyes and my head now throbbing with the beginnings of a massive hangover I made my way to the door, opened it and there standing in the open doorway with a mischievous smile on her face, was one of the girls whom I had been playing cards with.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 67

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 67

Maharajah and MayAnne

Well you could have struck me down with a feather, I just couldn’t believe that MayAnne was standing before me in the Maharajah Hotel. “How did you get up here” I asked haltingly, and in response she simply smiled and replied, “I follow to you, MayAnne have trike driver friend so he give free ride”. I looked at her in abject amazement and said, “so you followed me all the way to the hotel. I thought you were going home”? With this May Anne simply smiled and replied “MayAnne stay Martin hotel”.

Obviously I wasn’t going to get any more information from MayAnne and even though it felt like I had my own little stalker I couldn’t get the images of her in bed out of my head so I capitulated and said ‘come on then let’s go look at my room”.

Even back in 1991 the rooms in the Maharajah had obviously seen better days and yet despite the signs of wear and tear there was something about them that just made people feel at home. It might have been the golden heavy drapes that kept the sunlight and noise out, it might have been the carpeting on the floor (which in those days was a rarity in Angeles hotels), it might have been the close proximity to the pool, it might have been the super comfortable beds or it might have been the air of sex that seemed to pervade the entire hotel. Whatever the reason, the Maharajah just automatically felt like a home away from home, and this is exactly what it would become in years to come.

Prior to the Pinatubo explosion the Maharajah had obviously been a booming short time hotel. They had over 100 rooms in this hotel and it was plain to see its previous market had been people coming off the base for short time. At this stage there was only 1 swimming pool and most of the good rooms fronted onto the swimming pool. In years to come I was to stay at the Maharajah literally hundreds of times and a group of us developed a loose and casual friendship with the key being our occupancy of the Maharajah Hotel.

As we entered the room MayAnne switched on the lights, explored the room a little bit which included bouncing on the bed and then pronounced her decision, “hotel good MayAnne like”. At this time there was no cable TV which didn’t seem to phase May Anne at all and it wasn’t long before she was comfortably lying on the bed watching an old tagalog movie on the rickety old television that looked like it had escaped from a 1980’s movie set.

Seeing MayAnne had made herself right at home and was not to be disturbed I unpacked my bag, changed into some shorts and made my way to the pool which lay shimmering in the sun. For me there has always been something special about the Maharajah swimming pool that separates it from other pools. In current times there are two pools one out front of the hotel facing Don Juico Road and one out the back. In those days there was only one and this was the pool in the back.

Looking at it on surface value there is nothing particularly special about the Maharajah courtyard and pool. I really cannot put my finger on it why this pool area was so special, but for me I automatically felt relaxed and at home. Around the pool it is all concrete except for the flower beds which boast a basic foliage including the hotel owners prized orchids. There are good old fashioned sun chairs which are perfect for the sun worshipers and the pool itself is about 25 meters long, maybe a bit less, and always seemed clean and refreshing.

Another features I really liked about this area was that it was so quiet. One could sit by the pool for literally hours basking in the sunshine then dipping in the pool when the heat became to much. It was so quiet almost verging on serene and with a little imagination, hotel patrons could easily forget they were in Angeles. The pool area is also adjacent to the kitchen/restaurant area and although the food at the Maharajah sucks patrons would invariably order snacks which they and their girl would enjoy poolside.

Last but not least, I really liked the fact that after leaving the pool it was only a short stroll, or in some cases a stumble, to ones room. This of course is nothing new in today’s environment with many modern day hotels having poolside rooms but back then it was almost like the hallmark of the Maharajah. The Maharajah has always played second fiddle to the Oasis but for me this just made it more attractive because it was a cheaper price, it was less pretentious and there was always a room there.

I strolled out of my hotel room leaving MayAnne to watch TV and procured one of the sun chairs right next to the far end of the pool. I had been lying there for about half an hour just relaxing and letting my mind wander reveling in the silence when suddenly I looked up and there was a waiter delivering a tray of food to my room. Knowing that I hadn’t ordered anything I was a bit confused and then it hit me MayAnne had figured out how to use the telephone and get room service. This was my first experience of the Filipina just helping herself but it certainly wasn’t going to be my last.

With the Filipina there is almost a sense of entitlement, and in most cases they seem to have no idea of expenditure. For many of them money is something which grows on trees in the foreigners home land. They automatically perceive foreigners as having unlimited funds, and as such it is no problem spending it, because there is always more where that came from.

There are also several social ideals attached to the consumption of food. For starters it sends a psychological message that all is okay in the world. If you have a full stomach then you have access to money and can survive for another day. This may sound silly but consider where they come from in a situation where anything more than fish with a bowl of rice is a luxury, and you begin to understand. Secondly eating is a social occasion and because food is a luxury it is often shared. This is something like the Filipinas sharing their blessings or their good fortune. I saw this logic in action last year when I walked past the TV and there was Manny Pacquiao showering people with money on some sort of game show. Out of interest I asked the instant Filipino family what was going on and they replied that this was Manny’s way of “sharing his blessings”. Obviously this sharing did not work particularly well as the tax man is now after Pacquiao for his share but it was an interesting insight into Filipino culture.

I sat there in the sun chair and watched the tray of food disappear and pondered the situation for a while then made up my mind to go and talk with MayAnne about her taking me for granted. I walked into the room and was about to give MayAnne a little lecture but all thoughts of lecturing her left my head as she smiled up at me and said, “hi hon you like pood”? Taken aback and with all anger evaporated I simply smiled and shook my head and turned around top walk out the door, but as my hand touched the door handle I had a sudden stroke of inspiration. Turning back to MayAnne I said, “no food for me but I wouldn’t mind a blow job”. Straight away this bought a look of fake disgust onto MayAnne’s face and after she had swallowed her food she replied, “bastos Martin talaga”, then with a mischievous smile and a sparkling glint in her eye she looked me in the eyes and said, “why not”. Right then and there I decided I loved the Philippines and had no intention of leaving well at least not in the short term.

Upon observing MayAnne’s simple reaction I couldn’t help but compare it to that of a woman in my own country. Here in the Philippines, well at least in the bar world, sex was approached in a very matter of fact way and these girls had none of the inhibitions or angst that was so common among the white women I had known. Rather than being women’s liberationists that seemed to be against men and were hung up about sex these girls used it and their femininity as a means to get what they want, as well as a means to get physical gratification. This was certainly a world I was more comfortable in and in a way even though I hadn’t been bought up with Filipinas I could relate to their point of view more than that of women in my own country.

It took MayAnne another 15 minutes to polish off the Pancit Bihon, one of the few things the Maharajah made well, and then after a quick trip to the bathroom supposedly to wash her mouth, she pulled my shorts down and proceeded to suck on my dick like a true professional. For me I have always appreciated a good blow job and it never ceased to amaze me how the angelic brown skinned Filipinas could suck on a mans dick like it was something perfectly natural and there was no sense of the recipient owing anything to the giver. So unlike my world where if a woman gave you a blow job she acted like you owed her a favor for ever more as she had made the ultimate sacrifice.

After an extremely satisfying blow job I decided it was time for a little afternoon nap and this is where the Maharajah really came into its own. The room was delightfully chilled by the air-conditioning unit, the drapes kept the light out and the bed was awesomely comfortable. It wasn’t ten minutes before I was fast asleep while somewhere in the distance I could hear MayAnne giggling at something which was funny for her but which eluded me totally.

I think I must have slept for a couple of hours because next thing I knew I was being gently shaken awake by May Anne who announced, “I work now but come back hotel later”. Still slightly drowsy from the deep sleep I nodded and replied “sure babe I’ll see you later”. MayAnne smiled and headed towards the door but as she reached it she turned to me and with a serious look on her face she said, “no girls for you, you have girl I kill you talaga”. Before I could respond she had opened the door and disappeared down the corridor leaving me to contemplate how I had managed to get myself in yet another cock blocked situation.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 66

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 66

A parting of the ways in AC

As soon as MayAnne spotted me she broke out in a big smile, shouted hello and then breezed over and planted a kiss on my lips right in front of Wally. At this moment I felt like total scum and incredibly embarrassed and all the time, even though I wasn’t looking at him directly, I could tell Wally was seething. In hindsight Wally had no right to be so pissed off , I mean he had gone first and he had just finished giving me a lecture on sharing is caring, but I guess it was hard for him to practice what he preached.

At the time Wally’s hypocrisy didn’t dawn on me, in fact quite the opposite. I was feeling about as low as a snakes belly and I waited in trepidation for the tirade I knew was coming my way. MayAnne although having been with Wally just a few hours before me, seemed completely oblivious to Wally’s presence which must have rubbed salt on his wounded ego, and I could sense his anger about to boil over.

Deciding diplomacy was the better part of valor I gently lifted May Anne of my lap and told her I was sorry but she had to go now as I had to talk with Wally. I held her hand and walked her out through the reception. When we were outside the hotel I hailed a trike and subtly slipped 300 peso into her hand while promising to come and bar fine her later that night. May Anne although a bit miffed at being sent on her way, seemed to accept my promise and she lithely jumped into the trike and headed on her way.

So now it was time to face the music and with a feeling of trepidation I headed back into the hotel to face an angry Wally. As soon as I walked into the restaurant area Wally confronted me saying, “you are a shit head Martin, you’re a fucking slime lower than a snakes cunt”. At this stage I was feeling pretty bad so I decided to take his abuse and let him blow of steam. Then maybe when he had calmed down a bit I would talk with him rationally. This was my thoughts, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out like that. Wally by this time was riled up, he had something to say and he was going to get it off his mind no matter what.

“Listen dickhead” he said, “you knew I liked that girl so why did you have to fuck her, there are so many other sheilas but you have to get her. You are scum Martin and I hope someone belts the shit out of you”. As I have said I wasn’t feeling exactly proud of my actions but Wally was going a little bit far, and despite my resolution to remain silent his latest tirade got under my skin and I was now going to fight back. “Listen mate what was it you were saying before something along the lines of sharing is caring? Seems to me you should practice what you preach”. Wally was momentarily phased by this but recovered quickly to say, “it’s different with May Anne I really like her and you fucking knew that”. “Wait a minute” I replied “I had no idea you really liked her, this wasn’t personal mate, she is working in the bar and besides she chose me, not the other way round”.

Upon hearing this Wally was a little taken aback but recovered quickly to say, “I don’t believe you. I told her I really liked her and was planning to take her out of the bar and when she left me she said she was going home to tell her mum she was stopping work and coming to live with me”. Now it was my turn to be taken aback so I sat down and tried to get my thoughts together then after a moments contemplation I told Wally, “well mate I had no idea about any of this and if I had I never would have gone near her”. He looked at me with smoldering hatred in his eyes and said, “well how thick are you then, you’re a fucking dickhead” and with that said, walked out of the room.

I have observed similar situations as the one between myself and Wally on many occasions and each time I do, I think to myself, why does one guy blame the other guy when at the end of the day it is basically the woman’s fault, as much if not more so, than the other guy. In this particular case it was definitely MayAnne’s fault as she was the one who initiated contact with blatant disregard for Wally’s feelings. Then again, perhaps she like me, had no idea of the intensity of Wally’s feelings for her. All of these thoughts were racing through my head and at the end of the day I was pretty sure I wasn’t to blame totally but the trouble was how could I convince Wally of this.

So now I was left alone in the restaurant with feelings of guilt rushing through my body, feeling just as Wally had described me, a dick head. Yet despite my feelings of guilt somewhere deep inside there was a feeling of righteousness. In the back of my mind I knew that this was an over reaction by Wally and that it was MayAnne who had initiated things, not me. I was kind of tempted to confront Wally with this and explain to him that I wasn’t a mind reader but in the end I chickened out, and deciding discretion is the better part of valor, I finished breakfast, made my way back to my room, packed my gear and headed off to Fields in search of another hotel.

I was walking up Fields Avenue and got to where Philies is now, where a young Filipino guy stepped in front of me and said, “hotel sir”? Normally I would have brushed past this very obvious tout but at the time my bags were beginning to get heavy and the guy assured me this was the best hotel in Angeles at a very good price. In hindsight it was probably a risky proposition following an unknown Filipino guy but luckily for me this guy turned out to be legit and even genuinely helpful.

Once I said to the guy, “okay I will have a look at the hotel” a trike appeared from nowhere and next thing I knew my bags were being packed on top of the trike, then with me tucked inside the minute trike cabin and my new found guide, sitting side saddle on the back seat, we made our way up Fields Avenue onto what is colloquially referred to as Perimeter Road.

I am never quite sure what to expect when a Filipino says a hotel is close. Sometimes it is literally a 5 minute stroll and other times it’s a twenty minute ride in a dilapidated old trike. This turned out to be the later and as we crossed over the railway tracks that mark Checkpoint I was thinking to myself shit, I wonder where these two are taking me but then decided well there’s nothing much I can do about it now so I will just go along for the ride and see what happens.

The trike ride to my new hotel took about twenty minutes as we were literally crawling along at a snails pace, plus the driver had to stop to have a piss by the side of the road. Eventually the trike took a left turn following a big sign saying Maharajah Hotel. The Maharajah sounds fairly opulent, I thought to myself, and I hoped I would be able to afford the place. We pulled up at the big glass doors that mark the entry to the Maharajah and within seconds my guide had my bags off the top of the trike and was standing around with an expectant look on his face. I asked him how much for the trike and he told me 100 piso which in those days was a hefty amount but I didn’t know so I rummaged through me wallet and handed him 100 piso for the trike, plus another hundred for himself. I explained what this was for and I must have done something right because this guy upon receiving my tip suddenly went from guiding stranger to my new best friend. He insisted on accompanying me into the hotel and would help me book in. He grabbed my bags and proceeded into the rather grand reception area of the Maharajah Hotel which unbeknownst to me was to become my home away from home whenever I was to visit Angeles in the coming years.

At first glance the Maharajah is really quite impressive, well at least for those times it was and again I found myself wondering if I would be able to afford to stay there. We proceeded up to the counter where two friendly ladies smiled at me and said in unison, “welcome to the Maharajah Hotel sir”. Okay I thought to myself, this is starting out okay, but I better find out how much this joint is. Before I could respond a piece of cardboard like paper was pushed at me and I was politely asked to fill in the form.

For me this was standard procedure that I was used to when living in Australia so I started filling in the form like a good little tourist. On the form there were all the usual questions name, age, country of origin etc then down the bottom was a space to fill in your rank. When I came to this section I told the ladies, “sorry I am not in the services, I don’t have any rank”. Upon hearing this she seemed a bit shocked but recovered quickly enough to say, “no problem sir, just leave that part” Looking back on it the ‘rank’ request on the form was perfectly natural because previously, 99.9% of their customers had been American military personnel. I however was the new breed of invader, and I like to think I was one of the first Southern hemisphere boys who discovered the Maharajah and I know for many years to come, when I met people in Manila who were coming up to Angeles, I would recommend them to the Maharajah Hotel.

After being told to ignore the rank request I asked the lady how much a night the hotel was and she replied 500 piso which in those days with an exchange rate of about 28 to 1 represented about 18 Australian dollars. I thought to myself well this isn’t to bad but since it is out of the way and I don’t see many other customers, I bet I can make a deal for a lesser price. I looked at the lady and gave her what I thought was one of my best smiles and asked her, “how about a discount for longer staying clients”, to which she replied, “how long do you plan on staying” and when I answered, one week, she replied, “okay sir we can give you a room for 450 piso a night but that’s 2 nights payment in advance please sir”. Once again I gave her my best smile and said, “make it 400 a night and I will give you four days payment in advance”. She looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eye as if to say who does this cheeky young foreigner think he is trying to bargain with me. She looked at my guide and there was a quick exchange in Tagalog, then she turned back to me and said normally our maximum discount is 50 piso sir but because you are staying one week we will give you a room for four hundred a night with four days in advance payment”. I replied you have a deal and after rummaging through my wallet, an occurrence that happens far to often here in the Philippines, I pulled out 1600 peso handed it to her and next thing I knew was being given directions to my room.

My guide wanted to carry my bags into my room but being a bit wary of this seemingly over friendly Filipino I told him thanks for the offer but I am a big boy and can handle my own luggage. With this said I thanked him again for his help, picked up my bags and made my way towards my room.

I did not know it at the time, but the Maharajah was to become my favorite AC hotel and over the coming years I got to know the staff at the Maharajah well. Some of them even became long term friends who I am still close to some 21 years later.

I was just taking my first steps into the outside dinning area by the pool when I heard a girls voice calling out my name. Thinking I had left something behind at the reception I turned around only to be confronted by a perpetually energetic MayAnne.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 65

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 65

Cutting Wally’s Grass

Having just had an awesome blow job from a glamour that supposedly went out very rarely, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I walked out of the toilet trying to hold back my smug contented smile but this was more easily said than done. I don’t think I did a very good job because as I rejoined the group of drinkers one of the guys looked at me and said, “what you so happy about mate, you look like you just won the bloody lottery”. I looked at him and quickly blurted out something about reading the jokes on the toilet wall, and then to take the attention away from me, I hailed a waitress and ordered another round.

With the round of drinks delivered I was soon forgotten and the discussion moved onto Australian sports and the eternal argument, which is better Aussie rules or Rugby League. In my day I was a decent rugby player and was quite knowledgeable about the game so this conversation was something I could easily contribute to. The discussion, as nearly all such discussions do, soon became quite animated with each side expressing their point of view adamantly. I was just about to make a counter point when one the guys said to me, “hey look at that young fella. Isn’t that Carla the one you were buying drinks for, pashing with that bloke”. I followed the direction of his finger and there sure enough was Carla sitting on some guys lap passionately embracing and kissing him.

When I saw this I couldn’t help but break out into a huge smile and have a little chuckle to myself. Images of her sucking my dick ten minutes ago just wouldn’t leave my head and yet here she was kissing this guy like he was the long lost love of her life. I thought to myself I wonder if I should tell the guy but then thought to myself no why bother what he doesn’t know wont hurt him and why spoil his good time anyway. The guy who had originally pointed her actions out saw the smile on my face and said ” that’s the best way to handle it mate, always have a laugh at these shielas. Fuck it you buy her a few drinks and this is how she treats you best thing you can do is laugh at it and never get to serious mate”.

Upon hearing this I couldn’t contain my laughter any more and broke out in a huge chuckle. The guys in the drinking group must have thought I was wacko but they soon moved on from me as the discussion once again changed and they all became instant experts as they argued about who was the greatest boxer ever.

By now the drinks were beginning to take their toll and as much as I was enjoying the chin wag with my new found friends, I thought to myself, if I want to sit around drinking beer talking about anything and everything I can do that at home. I had come to the Philippines to meet girls and sitting in this group was not exactly conducive to this end. I paid my bill, said my goodbyes to the boys and then proceeded to head out the bar. On the way out I walked past Carla who while still sitting on this guys lap, looked over his shoulder and gave me the most lascivious smile I have ever seen on a woman anywhere in the world.

Still dazed at the gall of Carla, I made it to the front door opened it only to bump straight into MayAnne. Little MayAnne looked at me and said, “Martin why you leave now, I come back look to you”. “Wait a minute” I stammered, “Wally barfine you, so why are you back here”? Completely non pulsed MayAnne replied, “I like go you not Wally”. Ordinarily a situation like this would ring alarm bells, but it was getting late, I was half way inebriated and little MayAnne was a really cute spinner who I just couldn’t say no to.

Throwing caution to the wind I said to MayAnne, “okay honey if you want to go with me let’s do it, I am leaving now and if you want to come with me you are more than welcome”. Upon hearing this she gave me a beaming smile and replied “you pay mamasan”. I thought about this and asked her, “why do I have to pay when Wally has already paid” and she replied, “Wally only short time, you long time, so must pay mamasan”. At this stage I really should have known better but the good old little head got the better of me and next thing I knew I was digging through my wallet and handing over 300 peso for the bar fine.

MayAnne dashed off and within an instant she was back and inserting her arm through mine, escorted me out the bar. Once outside we got a trike back to the Bonanza hotel which I think was a massive 30 piso, (yes the trikes were reasonable back then unlike today) and within ten minutes we were walking into the Bonanzas foyer. The front desk lady was fast asleep at the front desk so I gently shook her to wake her up but upon opening her eyes she gave a quizzical look. I followed the direction of her gaze and of course she was having a hard time concealing her contempt of MayAnne. At first I thought to myself , wait a minute aren’t the hotels here supposed to be tourist and girl friendly and then it dawned on me. This lady had probably seen MayAnne a couple of hours before accompanying Wally. I was about to ask her have you got a problem but then I thought better of it, told her my room number and asked politely for the key. My request seemed to bring her attention back to me and as if coming out of a daze she reached behind her, picked up my room key and handed it to me. Barely able to contain my temper of this judgmental bitch I gave her a smirk, grabbed MayAnne by the hand and headed to my room for another torrid sexual encounter.

I have always found it a good sign if the girl indicates that she is attracted to you, invariably these have been the best sexual encounters, but on the other hand, I have also found that if the girl really likes you and has invested serious feelings in you, then she is invariably lousy in the bed. It’s strange how that works in the Philippines, but for some reason when the girl loves you she will often be overcome with a sense of shyness which stops her from performing in the bed.

With MayAnne however there was no such problem. Yes it was obvious that she was attracted to me but this was a far cry from love, and her sexual performance was indicative of this. MayAnne was obviously out to impress and no sooner had we entered the room she dropped to her knees, undid my pants and proceeded to give me an absolutely stupendous blow job. I don’t know who had taught this girl, but whoever it was had done a masterful job. While she was sucking on my dick I must admit I did experience a fleeting pang of guilt when thinking about Wally in the room next door, but as I said this was only fleeting because MayAnne certainly knew what she was doing and it was not exactly easy to concentrate on anything other than the mind blowing orgasm that was rapidly building up in my loins.

May Anne must have been blowing me for only about 5 minutes when all of a sudden I could contain myself no longer and next thing I knew I was exploding in her mouth. Once my seed was inside her mouth MayAnne daintily stood up and walked to the bathroom as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

That night was a memorable one as May Anne was a little pocket rocket and I managed to get in three rounds of energetic sex. At one stage we were doing it doggie style and the bed head was banging against the wall to the extent where I was afraid we would wake Wally up in the room next door. MayAnne was also extremely vocal and often I would burry her head in the pillow while pounding her. I seem to remember it was about 2 and a half hours between rounds and after each one I thought I was spent but MayAnne with her brilliant oral skills would always find a way to make me rise to the occasion.

The next morning at about 10:30 I wandered downstairs feeling a subtle mixture of absolute contentment exhaustion etched on my features and who should be occupying the little restaurant area, you got it none other than my traveling buddy Wally. When he saw me entering the room he smiled broadly and said, “Marty my old mate, you’re the frigging man. Who was that one you had last night mate she was a noisy bitch, must have been a great shag, I couldn’t bloody sleep mate”. At this stage I tried my hardest to keep a straight face and then Wally said, “listen mate if you wouldn’t mind can you tell me who the girl was you had last night and where she works”?

Oh shit I thought to myself, how the fuck am I going to get out of this one. I sat there slowly turning red with beads of sweat dotting my forehead and then carefully replied, “she works in Ziggys but I cant remember her name”. He looked at me quizzically and replied, “geez mate if I had a good one like that I’d share her with my mates, sharing is caring mate”. I looked at him thinking if you only knew Wally if you only knew, then replied, “no I’m serious mate. I really cant remember her name. I’m hopeless with names, really not trying to hide her from you, promise”.

Wally looked at me with a serious expression and replied, “okay Martin I believe you mate but if we go into Ziggys tonight can you introduce me mate if she is there”. With a sigh of relief I replied, “yeah sure” thinking that this would give me time to brief MayAnne and everything would be okay. Wally seemed satisfied with this and turned back to his coffee. Feeling like I had dodged a bullet I felt the tension flow away and just as I was relaxing Wally suddenly sat alert and looking over at the reception said, “what the fuck, that looks like MayAnne my girl from last night. That little bitch short timed me last night and when I asked her to stay she said she had to get back to the bar because she was feeling sick. I reckon the little slut probably did another short time with some guy who was staying here. Tell you what Marty you just cant trust any of the little shit heads”.
Upon hearing Wally I felt a sudden shiver down my spine and followed his gaze to the reception area and there was MayAnne talking with the receptionist. Instantly I turned my head trying my best impression of a turtle pulling it’s head in beneath its shell but I was to late. MayAnne turned around, saw me waved and shouted out, “hello honey”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 64

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 64

Meeting miss Carla.

Wally grabbed MayAnn in a tight hug then placing her back on the ground he turned to me and said “come on mate I will introduce you to some of the boys”. Wally lead me up to the top of the stage where a bunch of older Australians were gathered all seemingly involved in some deep conversation conducted over rounds of beer. I was thinking twice about butting in, since I didn’t know these guy’s, and I knew how I would feel if someone butted into my conversation in my local. But there was no such restraint for Wally who simply marched up to them together with MayAnn and myself and said, “gooday fellas I want you to meet a mate of mine, Marty. He’s come up from Manila and never been to Angeles before”.

My initial reaction upon hearing this introduction was one of embarrassment but the boys soon put me at ease by saying, “hello mate how’s it going, pull up a stool mate, come and have a drink mate”. From out of nowhere a shapely young waitress suddenly produced two chairs and with a bit of shuffling Wally and I inserted ourselves into the group. MayAnn who still had a tight grasp on Wally’s hand was unceremoniously seated on Wally’s lap and proceeded to wiggle her pert little butt against him every time she needed a drink or felt like getting his attention.

The conversation ranged from the Government in Australia, sports and life in the Philippines. This was a bunch of blokes who although proudly Australian seemed as though they had moved on from their country or Australia had moved on from them leaving them behind in Angeles City Philippines. And the irony was they were actually more comfortable living on the fringes of Filipino society than they were living in Australia. As one of the elder blokes said to me, “mate I will always be true-blue Aussie and proud of it, but fair dinkum mate I don’t reckon I could live in the joint anymore”. This comment seemed to be meet general agreement from the group and I found myself wondering if I would ever get like that. Little did I know that moment was just around the corner, because once you get a taste of the Philippines, for most, it’s a long time habit.

Looking back on this I realize that what these guys were telling me is the feelings of expats all over the world, we are literally strangers in a strange land. We are people who don’t fit into either society, not the one we have left and not the one we have adopted, we are fringe dwellers. For me this was all a bit heavy because at that time I was there for the pussy and figured if I wanted to hear some strangers life story I could do that back in the pub in New Zealand or Australia. At the same time I didn’t mean to be rude so I decided it was my round and promptly ordered one for all the guys in the group. This decision was met with much approval and a chorus of good on ya mate and some gentle back slaps, made me realize I had made the right decision.

The conversation ebbed and flowed with everyone getting slowly more and more drunk. After about 80 minutes of this Wally decided he had more important things to do, so grabbing the already changed MayAnn he signaled the waitress, bought one more round, then paid his bill at the same time saying goodbye to all the group. On her way out MayAnn was behind Wally and as she brushed past me she deftly gave my dick a subtle little squeeze and blew me a little kiss. This was both a turn on and a source of embarrassment since the last thing I wanted to do was have a problem with Wally, especially since he was the one who had brought me to Angeles, this was his turf and these were his mates so for me to be with MayAnn would have been really stupid.

Luckily for me my lack of reaction must have been the right thing because Wally was completely unaware of her actions and the guys who had seen it simply chose to give me a knowing smile and continue drinking their beer. About two hours into what was rapidly becoming a mammoth drinking session, I noticed this girl on stage and thought to myself, wow I wouldn’t mind a bit of that. Not being super comfortable as this was a new environment for me, I cut short one of the guys who was reciting yet another yarn and asked them about the girl. They informed me her name was Carla and she was supposedly one of the best performing girls in the bar. She had a reputation as being a bit of a drama queen but when in the mood was a orally skilled and a good performer.

Hearing this was more than enough for me so I made my polite excuses and grabbing my bill I got up and moved closer to the section of the bar where Carla was dancing. Carla saw me coming, smiled at me, then turned her back on me. It has never ceased to amaze me how these girls working the bar can sense your interest even if you have made no indication of it. Carla knew I was interested but she wasn’t about to give in, she was acting stuck up and she was going to make me work for it.
I must have watched Carla for about 3 songs then after trying various means to get her attention and failing miserably I made my way back to the group of guys at the top of the stage only to be greeted by snide little chuckles and the one of them said, “sorry mate we forgot to tell you her nickname. That’s Carla the cunt”. This was greeted by another round of chuckles and then one of the other guys said, “don’t worry buddy, you’re not the first to be rejected by Carla and you sure as shit won’t be the last.

Being an object of pathetic fun was not exactly my idea of a good time and this last statement was like a challenge to me, so I decided then and there, that I would get this Carla girl, no matter what it took. I smiled lightly at the guy who had issued the challenge then ordered another round as I sat back and worked out my strategy. It was then that the wise advise of David Goldshaft came back to me, if a girl is playing stuck up buy her a drink anyway, and if she still isn’t interested buy her one more but on the second one make it something strong, just to show her the balls still in your court”.

With David’s words echoing in my head I called the ever attentive shapely young waitress over and ordered Carla a drink. The waitress smiled and scurried off, to return 3 minutes later then place Carla’s drink on the bar before me. Carla obviously knew what was going on because with a sultry waggle of her hips she turned round and proceeded to walk towards me. She came right up to me, gave me a provocative look which said come and get me big boy, delicately held the drink, said thank you and then proceeded to walk back to where she had been dancing previously.

Of course all the guys had been watching this and Carla’s rebuffing of my advances elicited another round of chuckles. Feeling a little bit crestfallen I managed to put a brave smile on my face and said, “wait fellas, I’m not finished yet”. I called the waitress over once again and ordered 3 tequilas for Carla. Once again the waitress placed them on the bar in front of me and once again Carla sauntered over and looking me straight in the eye said, “thank you”. With this said she then picked up the Calamansi rubbed it on the top of her right hand, sprinkled it with salt, and with a delicate lady like motion, downed the first Tequila. This process was repeated twice more and once again Carla stood up, turned her back to me and sauntered back to where she had been dancing.

Watching the expression on my face was obviously a source of great amusement for the more experienced fellows as they were all chuckling without restraint. Obviously I had bummed out, and the guys laughter was hardly helping the matter, so I decided to pay my bill and leave. I asked the waitress to total my bill, said goodbye to the guys admitting that they had won, and then made my way to the toilet to let some of the beer out. I was standing next to the urinal with my back turned towards the door, when suddenly I felt a presence. I pushed as hard as I could to finish peeing, quickly zipped up my jeans and turned round, only to be confronted by Carla standing by the toilet door, with a cheeky sparkle in her eyes.

You like Carla she asked me and at a total loss for words I mumbled something like, yeah I sure do but before the words were out of my mouth she had grabbed my hand and was leading me inside the toilet cubicle. Carla shut the toilet door and while kissing me let her left hand wander down to my crotch and deftly undid my zipper. Next thing I knew I was standing there with my jeans around my ankles and the vision of unadulterated lust down on her knees giving me a fabulous blow job, the likes of which I have rarely found even after 22 years of living in AC.

I have no idea where Carla learned her techniques but this girl was absolutely fabulous and within minutes I felt the intoxicating effects of orgasm welling up in my body and brain. It was only a few strokes later and I was exploding in Carla’s mouth. To her credit Carla never spilt a drop and swallowed everything.

After the deed was done Carla simply smiled, opened the toilet door and sauntered out acting like nothing had happened. With legs still trembling I reached down picked up my pants and proceeded to exit the toilet. I was trying my best to look perfectly innocent but just had to break out in a huge smile when the CR attendant smiled at me and asked, “you leave tip sir”?

C How They Made Me! Chapter 63

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 63

It had to happen sooner or later.

With her arm firmly entwined round mine Daisy marched me into the bar and sat me down next to Jake. Jake looked at me and with a serious expression said, “listen mate I got some bad news for ya, looks like Daisy has a bit of a problem coz she failed health check today”, I looked at him somewhat incredulously and replied “failed the health check, what does that mean”? Jake looked at me like I had come down in the last shower and replied, “she’s got a dose mate”. Now at this stage I was still somewhat na├»ve and inexperienced when it came to STD’s so I asked Jake, what do you mean she’s got a dose, a dose of what? Once again Jake gave me the, is this kid for real look, then said, “she’s got the clap, the drip, gonorrhea mate”.

And then it dawned on me, if Daisy had it then chances are I also had it. As this realization came crashing down on me I just sat there and turned ghostly white. After about three minutes and a few steadying gulps of Jim Beam I hesitatingly asked Jake, hey Jake your telling me I may have gonorrhea as well, so what do I do about it? Jake smiled and replied, “if I was you I would go pay a visit to the one armed bandit and get a shot in the arse”. Not understanding what Jake was talking about I said who or what is the one armed bandit, to which Jake replied, “oh that’s Doctor DeGuzman he is the local doc, who deals with the clap mate. We call him the one armed bandit because he only has one arm”. With that said Jake gave me directions to the doctors and told me just grab a trike from outside and tell him take me to the doc’s place. They all know where he lives mate and for fucks sake put a smile on your face mate, it’s not the end of the world. All of us have had a dose at sometime mate, and it’s just part of living in Angeles”.

Upon hearing this I gulped down my drink, paid the bill, and headed out the door. Once outside I hailed a nearby trike and told him, “take me to Doc DeGuzman please”. The trike driver gave me a wry little smirk and replied, “walang problemo” and next thing I knew I found myself folded into a rickety old side car. With me feeling much like a sardine in a can we made our way to the doctors. While crammed into the trike I pondered Jakes words and thought to myself, the clap may be a common experience for the likes of Jake but for me this is a big problem and very embarrassing.

The trike driver knew Doctor Deguzmans place and within minutes I found myself standing outside his little house that doubled as a surgery. I paid the trike who then took off leaving me standing there feeling acutely embarrassed. At this stage I wasn’t experiencing any symptoms and I was telling myself, you don’t know if you have any infection so why bother going in, then on the other hand I was thinking, come on Martin it’s only one injection and its better to be safe than sorry.

I entered DeGuzmans house and came face to face with this quirky little one armed bespectacled guy, wearing a white doctors coat. In the Philippines image is always important and obviously Dr DeGuzman felt the jacket was a necessary prerequisite if he was to be seen as a true doctor. At first glance DeGuzman looked like something out of the twilight zone and this whole experience was surreal.

De-Guzman took one look at me and said step into my office sir. The tone of his voice was somehow ominous and I thought to myself, shit is it physically visible that I have a dose. Upon reflection I realize that this was just me being paranoid and that De Guzman in his time had probably seen literally thousands of men with the clap, but back then I was young and inexperienced, so this whole situation gave me the jitters.

I followed De Guzman into his office like a little puppy dog and once I had sat down he smiled and said, “what seems to be the problem”. I explained to him that I had been with a girl who had been found positive for gonorrhea, so I had come to him for a checkup. Upon hearing this De Guzman gave me a knowing look then asked, “have you experienced any symptoms yet”, to which I replied I don’t think so. This time he looked at me questioningly and replied, “sir do you know what the symptoms are”, to which I embarrassingly replied, “actually Doc I have no idea, I have never been exposed to anything like this before”.

When he heard this De Guzman seemed genuinely surprised and next thing I knew he was shoving a book at me saying, “look at the pictures and tell me if you have anything like that”. Suddenly the situation had gone from surreal to downright bizarre. This book was some kind of medical journal and in it were graphic pictures of gonorrhea infected penis’s and vaginas. To this day I am still not 100% sure why De Guzman made me view this book, maybe it was some sort of lesson, maybe he was trying to shock me, or maybe he just wanted me to be aware of the gravity of the situation so he could charge me more.

I skipped through the book with my stomach doing cartwheels, beads of cold sweat dotting my forehead, and my complexion turning ghostly white. This book can only be described as graphic, and at one time my breakfast nearly came up. After paying what I thought was the appropriate amount of time viewing the book, I closed it, and told De Guzman, “luckily for me Doc I am not experiencing any of those symptoms.” De Guzman actually seemed a little bit disappointed when he heard this, but rebounding quickly he responded by saying, “well sir I will give you a shot anyway just to be sure”.

I don’t know about other guys but for me I have always disliked needles, it’s not a morbid fear like most Filipinos have, but it is a strong dislike, and I am never truly comfortable receiving a shot. If I didn’t know better I could have sworn De Guzman somehow sensed my discomfort and he almost seemed to relish it. After having informed me he would give me the shot he proceeded over to a small fridge where he kept the needles and pulling out a large syringe with brownish colored liquid he said, “go over to the table take your pants down and bend over”.

This for me was one of those life pondering moments. If you had of told me five years ago that one day I would be bending over a metal table in the lahar filled backstreets of Angeles City baring my buttocks, while a quirky little one armed guy was preparing to inject me with a huge needle filled with vile brown fluid, I would have said you were mad. Yet despite the bizarreness of the situation, it was happening and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Moments of my life flashed before my eyes and I remember thinking about all the decisions I had made that had lead up to this, then suddenly I felt a sharp prick in my behind, and the sound of Dr De Guzman’s voice as he instructed me to remain still. Instantly I froze and then 5 seconds later Dr De Guzman extracted the needle, announced that we were done and I should pay 1000 piso to his receptionist outside.

I pulled up my pants, thanked the good doctor for his time and proceeded to head outside. The receptionist looked at me with a knowing smile with just a hint of mischieviousness and announced, “that will be 1000 piso please sir”. She was so matter of fact about it and I realized that this procedure was probably played out hundreds of times a year, so for her this was nothing new. With mixed emotions of guilt, shame, embarrassment and even relief, I paid the bill, gave the receptionist a fleeting smile and headed out the door.

When I got back to the hotel I was actually quite tired so I decided a nap was in order but as soon as my head hit the pillow there was a loud knocking on my door and Wally saying in a loud voice ” wake up mate it’s only early and we have some bar hopping to do”. Replying in a sleep laden voice I said just give me a ten minutes to grab a shower, wakeup and I will meet you downstairs.

That night our first port of call was Ziggys where Wally reckoned he had found a real stunner. Ziggys was a weird bar in terms of design and it had certainly seen better days. When it was Ziggys it badly needed a coat of paint, some new stage lighting, new sound system and definitely a new toilet area. Ziggys is now Brown Sugar and in its modern day guise a completely different bar. Back when it was Ziggy’s it can best be described as tired and it was very obvious the owners approach was to run it on basics only, keep the costs down. In those days there really wasn’t enough business to be putting money back into the bar and as a result most bars were run on the basics with minimum expenditure.

The predominant feature in Ziggys was the stage which was in the center of the bar and ran from the front door the entire length of the bar. Back in those days the managers job was fairly simple, he was a draw card and it was his job to drag people in to come and drink with him. In Ziggys there was a raised part at the back of the stage with about six seats and this is where the manager would always hold court. On any given night there would always be about five guys sitting watching the stage quaffing down round after round of San Miguel beer. The topic of conversation would vary from world politics and religion through to a heated discussion of what it was like to live in the Philippines and what was the performance like of the last girl they had been with.

At this stage in Angeles the Australians were predominant and it was common to walk into a bar and hear five or six ACDC songs in a row followed by some Cold Chisel, Men at work Midnight Oil and Australian Crawl. In Ziggys the stage was somewhat stage in that it had the girls change room under the stage and the girls would walk up a kind of tunnel onto the stage. They would then head down to the front of the stage and move up one space each time a new dancer came on. This was actually quite clever because it meant they could run less girls but the stage was always full.

Wally seemed to know his way around Ziggys and as soon as he walked in this dark brown beauty named MayAnne literally jumped off the stage and into Wally’s arms. To say that I was impressed would be an under statement, this girl was absolutely stunning. MayAnne had silky long black hair, pert little breasts with tantalizing flashes of nipples, a rock hard butt and long shapely legs. I think Wally must have sensed my admiration because he turned to me with a Cheshire cat smile and said, “she’s mine tonight but if I cut her lose tomorrow you can grab her”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 62

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 62

Riding Miss Daisy.

After having an enlightening session with Jake, (as you can see a pattern with me and alcohol is beginning to emerge), Daisy and I headed back to the hotel room. At this stage the hotel did not have a hotel service jeepney attached simply because there wasn’t a perceived need. Back then there were very few decent hotels near to Fields Avenue and it was generally accepted that guests would have no catch trikes to their hotels. In today’s environment this has all changed, and with the development of large hotels in close proximity to Fields Avenue, those situated further away have to supply a transportation service as an added reason for patrons to stay there.

On the way back to the hotel room Daisy was a little aloof and very careful not to show me any signs of affection in front of the trike driver. At the time I thought this a little strange because in the bar she had been a totally different person. In the bar she had been like a fly stuck on fly paper, literally all over me, but in the trike she was aloof and distant with a minimal amount of physicality. Looking back on it now I realize the trike driver may have known her and she was a little ashamed of working in the bar, or possibly because he was a distant relation or maybe he knew her boyfriend. It could have been any reason but for me it didn’t really matter as long as it didn’t continue in the bedroom.

And guess what, my hopes were soon to be realized because Daisy was a little fire cracker in the bedroom. We alighted from the trike with Daisy saying something to the driver in Tagalog and me slipping him 40 piso. The trike took off and straight away Daisy was back to being Daisy I had experienced in the bar. Gathering the room key from the hotel receptionist I received a mischievous smile from her that said I know what you two are going to do and boy was she right.

As soon as Daisy entered the room and the door closed, she was down on her knees sucking my knob like a true professional. Jake had hinted at her oral skills in the bar and he was certainly spot on the money. This girl could suck the proverbial golf ball through a garden hose without even trying. I don’t know about you guys but I rate an enthusiastic blow job highly and with this girl enthusiasm was an understatement. Daisy very obviously enjoyed oral sex and she had that intoxicating mixture of professionalism and genuine enjoyment. I have no idea who taught Daisy her oral skills but to this day some 22 years later I have experienced few better. Daisy had this way of licking the entire length just like a lollipop then she would flit her tongue over the head before swallowing the entire length. Obviously she had plenty of experience in this department and within 5 minutes I was exploding in her mouth. Without so much as a wink of an eye she swallowed my entire load then excused herself as she made her way to the bathroom.

So there it was my first sexual encounter in Angeles complete, and boy was it ever a memorable one. I remember feeling absolutely drained so stooping down I picked up my pants from around my ankles and flopped on the bed. Pretty soon Daisy came out of the shower and said, “now round two but I be the one to drive” . With that said she went straight down on me again and even though I was pretty shagged out this girl was an expert and with her gentle manipulations I soon felt the old familiar stirrings rising again.

Once Daisy had gotten me hard she literally stripped of her pants and jumped on my pole. Now I am not one to object to a sexually aggressive woman but this girl made me feel like I was a piece of meat just there for her to use. Once straddled on my dick Daisy was like a little pocket rocket and there was no stopping her. She would grind her body into mine rubbing her clit against me while jerking her pelvis like there was no tomorrow. In some ways I felt like a spectator, who was simply there to provide pleasure for the voracious females sexual appetite and in other ways I felt like a stud because I could supply just what this filly needed and trust me when I say, that was no small achievement.

After Daisy had ridden her way to two momentous orgasms riding on my cock I decided that it was my turn to show this woman just who was in control and with this in mind I gently lifted her off my dick, laid her down in the bed, spread her legs back so her feet were touching close to her ears and proceeded to pound her. Mostly I do not engage in physically demanding sex with small framed apparently fragile Filipinas but Daisy had given me all the signs that she would enjoy a bit of a tumble and I am glad to report my instincts were 100% correct. I inserted myself slowly at first and as each inch went in I could clearly see the look of pleasure that crossed her face. After gently easing my entire length into her and sensing no resistance I decided to get things a little more robust and next thing I knew I was pounding her like a jackhammer.

Daisy had many sexual attributes and her ability to take as well as she gave was definitely one of them. I was literally giving her a pounding and the harder I went the more she cried out for more. Given the size of her, this was an admirable achievement and I can remember admiring her stamina and genuine enthusiasm for a good pounding. After about fifteen minutes of pumping away I decided that it was time for doggy style so I pulled out, flipped her over and proceeded to give it to her from behind. I guess in the back of my mind I was thinking maybe I could find her measure but instead of being submissive Daisy actually seemed to enjoy it and pushed back on my cock as hard as I pushed into her. At one stage her head was banging against the bed-head so I stopped to put a pillow there and she simply turned round and said, “don’t stop Daisy like”. Well I may not be the fastest on the uptake but given a direction like this I wasn’t about to say no and next thing I knew all thoughts of comfort were thrown aside and I was literally pounding her like the piston of a formula one engine.

After about ten minutes of this frantic sexual abandon we were both bathed in sweat but that was inconsequential since both of us were in the proverbial zone and nothing else mattered apart from our carnal lust. I must have pounded away at Daisy for at least fifteen minutes until finally I felt that familiar build up and then my head exploded as wave after wave of orgasmic ecstasy coursed through my entire body. Paroxysms of orgasmic delight were also overtaking Daisy and then as the ultimate rush subsided, both of us literally collapsed in a heap.

In the history of sexual encounters the one between Daisy and myself had to rank highly. I mean over a 12 hour period we must have gone at it at least five times and everything was on the cards. Nothing was a problem for this girl and she was open to just about any suggestion. That morning we met up with Wally in the little cafeteria for breakfast but upon seeing Wally Daisy pretended to be all shy and after discreetly asking me for a “trike fare” gave me a little kiss and said, “you make bar hopping hon you not forget Daisy”. I smiled gave her a little tap on her ass and said “how could I ever forget you Daisy. See you later”.

After Daisy left Wally and I settled down to a nice breakfast and made plans for our bar hopping later on that day. It took us about an hour of planning but after that we were good to go not realizing that our planning was a complete waste of time because as always as soon as you get on Fields all pre made plans go out the window.

Wally and I shared a trike up and our first stop was the Airwolf Inn. The Airwolf Inn was a classic Angeles bar very reminiscent of times gone by. It was basically an open air bar with a pool table, overhead fans, wooden seats placed around wooden tables, about 8 women who seemed to be a mix between GRO’s and waitresses, and music which was a somewhat eclectic mix between Southern Rock and Country. The customers here were locals who had been residing in Angeles for a long time and these guys had seen it all. Over a few beers, which funnily enough I ended up buying, these guys would regale the young kid with wide eyes and an even wider mind, with stories of their Angeles antics in days gone by. Most of these guys were retired military and the highlight of their day was the occasional cigar or cigarette together with a few beers while they sit and reminisce about the good old days when Angeles was a boom town and single mans paradise.

The girls in Airwolf Inn were a mixed bunch ranging in age from about 18 through to 35 but no matter what their age it was clearly obvious each girl knew exactly what she was there for. Some of the old guys seeing my eye wander appreciatively over two of the girls, started giving me the low down on some of the girls performance. In a way I appreciated their candidacy however on the other hand I was still applying Australian ethics to a Filipino situation so I replied, thanks for the info guys but I don’t really want to know how many of you blokes have already been with her. I mean if she is a slut that’s cool but I don’t have to know about it, so if it’s all the same to you guys and no offence meant, I will just do my own homework and I’ll let you know how I get on”. With this little tirade blurted out the wizened old guys looked at me from underneath their baseball caps and glasses and then one of their group who I was to later learn was named Dicky, blew a cloud of smoke at me and said, “caring is sharing kid” then went back to his beer and cigar.

Feeling thoroughly rebuked I motioned to Wally that I was leaving and he promptly paid his bill and we walked up the street to Club Fantastic. Walking up Fields in those days was truly fun. It was very much a small town feel where all the girls would know you and often they would call you by name as they tried to entice you inside their bar. Girls would grab your arm and actually walk with you up the street. Along the way they would often try and get you to buy them something like a dress or a hat from one of the numerous tailoring shops that seemed to proliferate on Fields in those days. There must have been about twenty tailors mostly specializing in American goods such as American football shirts baseball shirts caps and jackets and basketball clothing. Along with the tailoring shops were the leather shops which would specialize in a range of goods from boots and shoes through to little riding crops, leather sex outfits and plush leather jackets. A few of these places still exist but most of them have been replaced by a different kind of shop or a hotel or a bar. These shops were indicative of the small town appeal of Angeles back then and if even for that reason alone I miss them.

Club Fantastic which is now called Owls Nest was pretty much exactly as it is today a dirty dingy mid sized bar with about twenty girls who would shuffle back and forth on stage and were about as inspiring as a wet week. The lighting is always dim in this bar and the emphasis is on keeping the operating costs down. The owner here an Australian who I shall just refer to as T, has been around Angeles for 30 plus years and is very much a reminder of how a certain segment of the Angeles market used to be. For the most part men such as himself have faded into obscurity but there are many like him still here and to find them you just have to know where to look.

Terry has running a bar down to a fine science, basically he leaves everything to his wife and drinks a few beers and plays pool. He is in fact arguably the best pool player in Angeles. He is nothing flash but just shoots the balls and rarely loses. While Terry is playing pool the bar goes on around him which these days he is mostly oblivious to. Back in the day the bar was called Club Fantastic and it was particularly memorable because of its logo which was Mickey Mouse getting a blow job from Mini Mouse while underneath was the writing Club Fantastic Adult Disneyland.

After a couple of games of pool with Terry, a few beers and a good grope of the only two girls that were in my opinion worth groping we said our goodbyes and headed out with the aim of going to Birds Of Paradise for some late lunch curry. Well at least that was the plan until we actually walked out the door and Daisy who was working as a door girl in Happy Hooker spotted me and came running over grabbing my arm and saying, “hon we have problem, need you talk Daddy Jake now”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 61

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 61

The Happy Hooker my introduction to Angeles.

For my first night in Angeles I didn’t even go out preferring instead to stay in the hotel and get a good nights sleep. Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but I was dead tired, didn’t really know my way around, and Wally already had a girl, so there would have been nobody to keep me company or show me the ropes.

After a good nights sleep I woke up at ten and headed downstairs for breakfast. They had a small little restaurant in the Bonanza which served decent enough but basic food and always had a cold beer or a hot coffee. Wally was already there having just said goodbye to his girl so I joined him and we made plans for our bar hop that was going to happen later that day.

Over breakfast Wally gave the basic lowdown on Angeles telling me about Fields Avenue and some of the bars there. At this stage I had no idea of the lay of the land and I could feel my excitement level rise. After Wally had imparted his words of wisdom I was ready to set out and explore Angeles, so summoning up a trike, that seemed to be constantly parked outside the Bonanza, I made my way to Fields Avenue.

Just as I hit Fields some of the bars were opening and as I stumbled into one it was very obvious I was the first customer. My first impression was that these bars were a far cry from Manila. I had gotten used to Visions Firehouse, Superstar, Mistys and bars of this ilk, where there were large numbers of girls and the girls were all dressed in bikinis. Here in Angeles it was totally different. Many of the bars had five or six dancers and I was often the only customer in the bar. This seemed to be a much more simple and relaxed scene, with an emphasis on personal communication between the girls and the customers.

In Manila there was a sense of almost frantic urgency that pervaded the whole scene, everybody was in party mode and it was very much a night scene but here in Angeles the bars started happening a lot earlier and there was a definite afternoon market where the emphasis was as much on drinking as it was on chasing girls.

I wandered into about four bars stopping to have a drink in each buying a few ladies drink and just talking with the girls but not seeing anybody who attracted me I kept on moving. To be honest I was thinking this ain’t bad but it’s nothing compared to Manila and I was giving some thought to checking out tomorrow and heading back to the big smoke. Just as these negative thoughts were beginning to formulate I saw this hot looking girl standing outside a little bar called the Happy Hooker and all thoughts of returning to Manila completely left my head.

I am not sure what it is but I have always found myself attracted to a hard working girl and this girl was certainly that. There she was standing outside Happy Hooker with clingingly tight lurid yellow hot pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I didn’t know it at the time but Daisy and myself were going to develop a sort of relationship. Now when I say relationship I do not mean in the traditional sense, but in a sort of sexual and friendship sense. Daisy was to become a regular sex partner plus a friend. One thing that I really like about the Filipina bar girl, is her ability to combine a sexual relationship with friendship. Very few girls can admit to themselves that they are prostitutes and they live in denial, softening the reality with feelings of attachment and friendship. Sometimes this was real friendship and other times it was an act they put on for whatever reason.

When Daisy saw me her face literally lit up and she ran towards me, grabbed by the arm and said, come inside gwapo. Of course this being a hot girl I wasn’t about to say no, and next thing I knew, I was being pulled into the Happy Hooker. I have often wondered how a small little Filipina can haul a 200 pound plus man into a bar and I always have a quiet little chuckle when I observe it. Whenever I see this happening I always laugh and think to myself, it’s true men really are led around by their dicks.

Anyway back to Daisy the vision of lust whom I eagerly followed into Happy Hooker. To be honest my memories of the Happy Hookers layout are only vague. I think there was a little stage on the left hand side which boasted about 8 girls all of whom looked like this wasn’t their first rodeo and the seating was mainly two tables and chairs and a lounge in the back. Back then they had the little patio just like it does today and on many occasions this was the busiest section of the bar. Since back then it was mostly a daytime trade many customers would enjoy sitting in the patio drinking a cold beer and watching the world go by while playing with some girls. There was little money to be made back then, and indeed, money wasn’t the primary driving force like it is today. Back then it was more about hanging out and having some fun with the girls and your mates. In terms of bar ownership I think a lot of guys just kind of fell in love with the idea of free booze, a constant stream of hot available women and a laid back lifestyle, where if one could make a little bit of money along the way, it was considered an added bonus.

The owner of the Happy Hooker was an Australian guy whose name was Jake but was always referred to as Daddy Jake particularly among the girls. Jake was an older bloke obviously in his late fifties early sixties (yes in those days I considered this old) with a pasty complexion and the beginnings of a classic alcoholics nose. Jake was a retired screw and although this is a position that requires regulations, slavish following of rules and a tough exterior, I never got any indication of these elements from Jake. He always seemed like your classic laid back Aussie who liked a quiet little drink on a regular basis.

The girls all seemed to like Jake and in the case of Daisy I got the impression the feeling was returned. She seemed to be his little favorite and she would flirt outrageously with him, always gently rubbing against his crotch, and giving him titillating and delightfully promiscuous glances. Jake was married and the bar was in his wife’s name, but this never seemed to bother Jake or the girls, in the slightest. When Jake’s wife was in the bar the girls would tone down their flirting a little bit but still they made it perfectly clear that inside the bar they had equal rights when it came to Jakes attention. To be honest I wasn’t privy to any behind the scenes talk between Jake and his wife but I can imagine his wife would have not been to impressed with the girls flirtatiousness being directed towards her husband. On the surface however Jake’s wife always kept a friendly demeanor towards customers and the girls, although it was clearly obvious, she was the boss when it came to her man.

I found out in later years that like so many of the small bars back then most of the girls came from a specific part of Samar where Jakes wife also hailed from and it was merely a semi annual visit back to the province by Jakes wife and the bar would be replenished with five to ten new girls with literally mud between their toes. this same area that supplied a regular flow of girls to work in the bar. Back then there was no big deal about Human Trafficking and it was seen as a perfectly natural happening to send ones daughter to Angeles to earn some money or even better land a foreign husband, move overseas and send money home on a regular basis.

As I got to know Jake and his wife a little better over the next two years I would ask her how she did her recruiting in the province and she would relate pretty much the same story every time. Basically she would get another girl already working in the bar and they would head down to the province together.

Normally her and the girl companion would have some nice jewelry that they would put on prior to entering the village, of course all the local girls would gather round and besiege them with looks of adoration and envy and then ask where did they get this jewelry and how can they get some for themselves. This of course was the lead in that the bar ladies wanted and next thing you know there were stories about the great life in the Angeles bar scene and how easy it was to make money there. Half the time the exact nature of the job was skirted around, with the parents being told their daughter will be a waitress or a GRO and to this day I am not sure if the parents knew exactly what their daughter would be doing or they actually believed the bar peoples tales. Personally I think they have a fairly good idea as to the nature of the job but chose to ignore it and just take the money.

I spent that afternoon chucking back a few beers with Jake and at 5 he asked me to accompany him to the front patio where we sat and talked and drank while Jake watched the happenings on the street. This was a great little voyeurs spot and we willed away about two hours watching the parade of beauties pass by. Jake had been in AC for at least five years and during that time had built a lot of friendships, many of whom would hail him or drop by for a drink. The guy also knew a ton of girls but I got the impression he had to be more careful when it came to approaching the girls because the wife had eyes and ears everywhere. Still being cautious is very different from being monogamous and I am sure wily old Jake got more than his fair share of tail.

While I sat and chat with Jake Daisy was milking ladies drinks from me and at the same time acting as door girl. I am sure she would have much rather gone with me and knocked out a short time but here she was still stuck in the bar, so she had decided to make the most of it. Daisy was one of those girls with an enervating personality that meant she could attract customers with very little work. In days to come I would watch her flirt and play with customers and lure them into the bar like a good door girl should. She had that unique ability to make every man no matter how old or how young, feel like he was the center of her attention and king of the world.

By about 7 Jake was ready to call it a night so I requested Daisy to go bar fine with me to which she eagerly agreed and we headed back to the Bonanza for a good old fashioned romp.