Word: hut
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...There is something familiar about Jacky and her little hut and her desperate yearning for more speed and even for the exhilaration and intoxication she feels when she's on the pipe. Familiar to me because I've been there before. Not in this exact room nor with these people. But I've been on speed...
...Jacky's hut, Bing and a few bar girls are seated with their legs folded under them, taking hits from the sheets of tinfoil. As Jacky applies a thick layer of foundation makeup to her face, and then dabs on retouching cream and then a coating of powder, she talks about how tonight she has to find a customer; she needs to make a thousand baht. She'll work the dance floor at Angel's and, if she can't pick up a foreigner, she'll try Thermae, a sleazy after-hours joint and the evening's last resort...
...Bing's mother, Yee, slips off her sandals as she steps into the hut, clutching her 14-month-old baby. She sits down next to her son and while the baby scrambles to crawl from her lap, she begins pulling the paper backing from a piece of tinfoil, readying the foil for a smoke. Her hands are a whir of finger-flashing activity?assembling and disassembling a lighter, unclogging the pipe, unwrapping the tablets, straightening the foil, lighting the speed and then taking the hit. She exhales finally, blowing smoke just over her baby's face. Bing asks his mother...
...neighborhood like so much exhaled smoke. Jacky's customer lost interest and found another girl. Even the bike racing fell apart after the cops broke up the first few rallying points. And now, on a hazy, rainy Sunday, Jacky and a few of the girls are back in her hut. They're smoking, almost desperately uploading as much speed as possible to ward off this drab day and this squalid place...
...tells me it would make her more comfortable if I would join her. I'm standing in the doorway to Jacky's hut. About me are flea-infested dogs, puddles of stagnant water several inches deep with garbage, and all around is the stench of smoldering trash. The horror of this daily existence is tangible. I don't like being in this place, and I find depressing the idea of living in a world that has places like this in it. And I know a hit of the mad medicine is the easiest way to make this all seem bearable...