My Thai Thug Life

When I was in Thailand, I was in a gang. Our name? “The Green Park Gang.”

They see us rollin'. They hatin'.

The name of our group came from the name of our turf, a rough neighborhood by the name of “Green Park Home”. The town we operated out of was outside of Bangkok, on an infamous stretch of road known as “Buddhamonton Sai Si”.

Our house was an official dormitory for Mahidol University International College, but it was located a few kilometers away from campus. I think they were afraid we would be a corrupting influence on the rest of the student body if we were placed to close. Can’t say that I blame them.

What kind of activities did we engage in? We did plenty of jobs at the 7-Eleven on the corner. A meat bun from 7-Eleven would cost a mere 10 Thai baht. That’s about 34 cents US. That’s not just a bargain, it’s a steal. We were practically stealing from 7-Eleven, that’s how bad we were.

I N F A M O U S

Our leader was a man named Jeff, aka DJ Jazzy Jeff, aka Young Jeffy. The locals referred to him as Mr. Jep. Because Jep means “pain” in Thai, they were essentially calling him Mr. Pain, that’s how hardcore he was. The fact that when Thais speak the “F” at the end of words it often comes out sounding like “P” is mere coincidence.

Jeff hails from California, but watching him operate, everyone knew within minutes of meeting him that he was born to run the streets of Thailand. He knew every centimeter of the country, and had connections in every major city. He even knew a guy who knew a guy who knew Skrillex! He another associate of ours, Di “Da Lion” Lon, were able to score free tickets to a Skrillex show in Bangkok. Afterward, they presumably took a ride on Skrillex’s private jet, which is shaped like a sub-woofer and sounds like an old modem dial-up tone as it flies overhead. Probably.

Also in our crew was our enforcer, Leo. Leo knew fifteen different martial arts styles, including Muay Thai and a previously unknown long-lost art known as “Muay Bueno”. It is rumored to be the world’s deadliest; a single punch can bring down an elephant. Thailand’s elephant population actually took a nosedive in our time there. Leo claimed to be German, but it’s just a cover. His father is a famous Georgian (the other Georgia) movie star, and financed Leo’s training in order to turn him into the world’s greatest superhero. Instead he joined our gang, technically making him a supervillain.

We also had the Park City Pair, Jack and earlier mentioned Di Lon, from the great state of Utah. Apparently Jeff misheard someone who suggested his gang needed “more men”, and instead tried to recruit “Mormons”. They’re not actually Mormons, not that there would be anything wrong if they were. We engaged in activities with involving exotic animals, and Di Lon was our official animal wrangler. Jack? Jack of all trades

Di Lon and Jack, with Leo resting in the background after a particularly exhausting elephant fight.

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When the health of a member of the gang would take a turn for the worse, we relied on our medical officer, Milap, from South Carolina. That’s right, our gang had a medical officer. That’s not something other gangs can boast of. Get on our level, Warriors! Milap knew everything there was to know about every debilitating medical condition known to man, and would gladly tell you about them all, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

When out on a mission, we engaged the services of August, from Austria. He was in charge of logistics, and by that I mean he was in charge of guiding us to sustenance during late-night activities. He had a twentieth sense, the ability to detect the nearest McDonald’s no matter where he was. It was uncanny.

We also had a photographer in our gang, a man by the name of Conan. He was a very pleasant, charismatic individual, which was the only reason we kept him around. Otherwise it’s not the best idea to have someone whose task it is to create evidence of our unsavory activities.

We had a master spy in the group, by the name of Ryan. He tried to teach all the rest of us his spy ways, by introducing to us a game called, “Gettied Spy’d”. There is a cheap Thai wine cooler by the name of “Spy”. The object of the game is to hide a bottle of Spy somewhere, and when someone finds that bottle, they must get down on one knee and chug it. Hiding those Spies turned us all into spies.

Finally, we had our translator, Bundit. As a Thai American, he could speak the local tongue. At first he couldn’t read the language, though, actually making him kinda useless. He got better though.

There are many, many more people I could talk about. More individuals with stories even greater than those already spoken of. So why won’t I talk about them? Because I can’t let you in on ALL of our secrets, can I?

Maybe next time. ;)

Green Park Gang ain't nothing to fuss with.