THE TOM SHOW

Walking into a lesbian bar in Bangkok has been one of the most intimidating things I’ve done in a long time. And it had nothing to do with the doorlady perched on a tree trunk dressed in full costume and make-up as The Crow.

-“ID, “ she leers, stamp hovering.

“No ID, “I say

So we’re let through, without paying for some reason, by a girl dressed as a carnival gypsy. The place is all white leather couches, huge chandeliers, tall stools and round tables.

Every available surface is marked with a named reservation sticker, even on the bar counter. Clearly, we are early. I position myself at a table with a sticker that says “EVE” and watch the live band on stage. Naturally, the lead singer is dressed as Snow White. There must be some kind of costume night happening. The rest of the band is incognito with masks. The keyboard player is an elephant, the drummer might be a giraffe and the guitarist is wearing a huge afro which I later realize is real.

A girl dressed as David Bowie starts rapidly filling the room by leading people to their reserved tables. A sparkly cowboy wearing a black sequined ten gallon hat catches my eye. She looks familiar. There’s a slideshow advertising “Tom Show. Every Fri” being projected on the wall behind the band and I realize she’s one of the butch girls in the photos. It’s my lucky night. Toms are what Thais call butch girls (femme girls are Dees). And today is Friday. Not even Eve arriving to claim her table can dampen my spirits.

I check out the barlady whenever she comes into view. She looks like she’s stepped straight out of a Tim Burton movie and I marvel again at how much ass bar staff get. David Bowie has been joined by a Bollywood diva in a sari and a Tom in a impeccably tailored periwinkle blue suit and they are working like pack horses delivering bottles of Johnnie Walker Red Label, Chivas Regal, soda and cartons of green Marlboros to the tables.

The band ends and a dj starts up and I notice for the first time that there is no dancefloor. The stage has a narrow catwalk extending from it and tall chairs and tables have been arranged around it. The bar looked onto this and then there were two dimly lit sofa areas. I wouldn’t go as far as to say the vibe was hostile but I wouldn’t exactly say it was friendly. After three years in Taiwan, I guess I’ve just become accustomed to girls at a club rocking up a conversation in ten minutes flat even though they can’t speak your language. By the end of the night I realize the Thai girls aren’t unfriendly, they just didn’t speak any English. I spot two Toms moving in from the right. Finally. Here comes some conversation!

“Nobody here speaks English do they?”

It immediately breaks the ice, we have a good laugh and discover that they aren’t even from Thailand, they’re on holiday from Hong Kong. We buy a round and exchange emails.

Meanwhile, the promised Tom show has still not begun and I sit through a contest led by an MC who throws teddy bears at the crowd and invites Dees to come dance alone on stage under a spotlight. I think one of the Dees who goes up is actually a ladyboy. Then Snow White and her band come back on and shift the night into love ballads. Everyone immediately starts singing along and swaying in time together. The only reason they didn’t put their lighters in the air was probably because of some anti-smoking law. Talk about a buzz kill.

I took one last look at my besequinned cowboy (cowgirl? Tomboy? cowTom?), gave her my biggest remember-me goodbye smile and gave the Tom show a skip. Rumour had it, it wasn’t even happening that night anyway. The barlady waved, I moved past the smokers clustered outside the entrance and as I stepped over a crouching girl who was tears on the pavement, I couldn’t remember why I’d been so nervous to come in here in the first place.

ABOUT KELLY SMITH
Kelly Smith is freelance journalist currently travelling in Asia. She thinks that if you are in Bangkok you should visit Zeta Bar.