Watching Nightlife in Kuala Lumpur

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“That one’s a sexy dancer.”
“You mean a stripper?” I asked.

“No, a sexy dancer. She gets paid to dance sexy in the bars so that guys think they will get lucky. She has to stay until the bar closes and then she can do what she wants.”

“What about that one?” I asked, pointing to the girl in glasses across the road. She looked like a Chinese student, she even had books. I figured she was waiting for a ride.

“She’s a street walker. Obviously. Just watch the cars pull over and talk to her. She negotiates, they say no, but someone will say yes soon.”

I had thought she was just waiting for a ride and talking with people, for such a worldly guy, I tend to be naive, if not innocent. Sure enough, soon a car pulled up, a guy got out and she and him walked off to whatever hotel she had a deal with.

Meanwhile, my Malaysian friend and I sat across the road on a dirty chunk of concrete drinking Tiger beer and watching the parade of hookers, strippers, sexy dancers, nude dancers, bar girls, hostesses, and every once in a while, a normal girl go by.

Still, not all of these were women you would guess were prostitutes or sex workers.
“You see that one there? She probably has a food cart she works at during the day and her husband, something happened to him but she’s an auntie and has not only her own kids to care for but her kids kids and her sister’s kids…I’m just guessing here…and it’s too much so she has to bring more in and now…well, there’s somebody that finds Auntie’s sexy” and as we watched the Auntie with the food stall got in a car and drove off for sex.

It as sad as hell. Still, it wasn’t tragedy for us, sitting there on the side of the road. In fact, it was interesting. I got to learn what the sexy dancers do and that the Malay girls are probably the most expensive, local girls. The Indonesians get paid the least and after them the Indians and Chinese. Some of the clubs pay premium Russian, Swiss, and other white professionals to bring in some diversity. I learned that the price for a street walker is as little as 20 Malaysian ringgits, right around $7, which is pretty amazing when the Guinness Stouts we’d just had were 32 ringgits each or more than $11 each. Pretty amazing, of course the Guinness with it’s frosted glass, dark brown color, and cold delicious taste was attractive in every way while the $7 street walkers were pretty worn out and attractive in no way at all.

My friend had been pretty generous in buying me a couple of beers and now we drank some cheaper tiger beers where the view was interesting but we weren’t paying a premium to be seen (although we were only about 50 feet from the $11 beers, our beers now were right around $3 from the Carrefour 24 hour market behind us.) Not only that but he had taken me for a street food tour on the next street over where the vast majority of food stalls wait for unwary tourists and hungry locals. And now, in front of my hotel, we watched the sex worker parade.

And then, two women with dark black skin and thick African bodies came up to us. They were high as fuck on something but having a nice time.

“Hi, I’m Lawanda” Yes really, that was her name. And her thick East African accent, huge breasts, giant teeth, and very round booty just made her that much more Lawanda. “And this is Rachel…”

I’ve got to pause here and say that in terms of stereotypes, these girls were CREATING the stereotype. They were the origins of the stereotype and while a stoned out whore with smoldering eyes and a huge booty stuffed into a leopard spot body suit might sound unattractive, she was not.

Rachel simply oozed sexual energy. If there is a sex goddess, she is it. This was a woman who loved what she was doing – at least in that moment. Working as a whore and loving it. I’m sure.

Both stoned prostitutes shook our hands politely and then began to query us about whether we wanted to go somewhere, if we wanted to party, if we wanted to buy them drinks, and finally if we would just give them ten ringgits. All of which my friend deftly refused by claiming we were backpackers going on a safari the next day. Actually, he and Lawanda were the only ones that talked. Rachel just stood there oozing sex and I just sat there enjoying it but not willing to go there, not even with a dozen rubbers. I’m lucky I didn’t catch VD from shaking hands with them, but man, I’m sure that would be an experience like no other.

And so, finally they walked away with Lawanda cussing at us and Rachel looking at me with those sex filled eyes as she walked away. I caught my breath….”Holy Shit!”

“Leopard spots!” My friend said. “Can you believe those hot African prostitutes? Ha ha. Can you just give us 10 Ringgits? Ha ha ha.”

And that was when it started to rain a bit. As we got under the awning of my hotel and said our goodnights, I watched as a fat Indian man came out with an umbrella for the fat Indian prostitute in front of his shop. Was it his wife? His daughter? His employee? Who knows. Not me. Still, it was sort of sweet and I thought it was a sweet end to the night, but the night wasn’t over yet.

My friend went home and I went up to my room which faced the same street. At about 4:30 am, I heard screaming like someone was being killed. A woman and a baby crying. A man yelling. The woman screaming bloody murder. I opened the window and watched a long haired man who looked like a combination of rock star and martial arts artist arguing with a pretty woman with a baby in her arms. There was a yellow cab in the street an the problem seemed to be that the man wanted to leave and his wife had caught him and wasn’t happy about it. A crowd gathered. The yelling and screaming didn’t stop. It was a drama. She was screaming, maybe he was leaving her for another woman. Maybe he was abandoning her and the child. Maybe she had found out he was cheating.

Whatever it was, it went on for about an hour and the crowd grew bigger. Finally, it ended when the man grabbed the woman and kissed her, put his bag in the taxi, and then all three of them got in the taxi and the driver drove them away. The crowd slowly dispersed to wherever it is Malaysian people go at 5 a.m.

Sure, I didn’t sleep well, but wow. Who wants to miss a show like that?