Life is a Journey, Savor it.

Flight Roster of Filth


125 passengers on a recent Tiger Airways flight from Bangkok to Clark air base (budget airport 2.5 hours north of Manila):

3 families (5 kids total)
18 total female travelers (2 older teenage backpackers, 3 white female travelers, 15 Filipinas)
~20 Filipino men (including a group of about 10 adorable, 30-something gay men)

85 (the rest): bald spots, sunburns, oversized, overwhelmingly middle-aged to older white men

During the flight, on the bus ride across the Tarmac and in the immigration line I search the foreigners’ hands for wedding rings, or even the hint of a tan line across the left ring finger. I find none. Literally zero…

I can’t help but wonder about the intentions of these men as they jollily chat in all number of western accents. Though I can’t make out many of their words, from my days taxiing drunk frat boys and college football fans around to bars in Eugene I recognize the energy of giddy, salivating, unbridled macho lust about to break free in salacious release. That is the feeling I get standing as a lone female amidst these men.

One man gesticulates to his comrades and loudly proclaims the spoils of the coming bounty. He speaks in an Eastern European language but I can easily understand “big orgasm!” and the indulgent laughter that follows.

These men can’t all be here for the same purpose, certainly some work and (I hope) are devoted to their families… An hour later I’m sitting in the back of a jeepney riding thought the neon lit streets of Angeles City.

Angeles City, as a former US Air Base it is synonymous with seedy night life and blatant sex trade. I have been warned repeatedly by other travelers to avoid it, period.

The streets are packed, pretty Filipino girls, a few done-up girlie boys and then a sea of red faces a top polo shirts and khakis weaving and stumbling through the crowd, propped up by relatively tiny women.

The bars have names like “Purple Clove” and “Sinners Palace.” The hotels proclaim flexible rate schedules, varying from half-hours to 12-hour blocks and thematic rooms (casino, Indian jones, pirate, yacht captain). I recognize a group of men from my flight wandering the streets with open beers blithely oblivious to the traffic or much else besides the rows and rows of human showcases.

My skin crawls, I’m getting out of this town as fast as I can… It’s not soon enough.

Author: Lale Princey

Born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee I grew up weened on hot summer nights chasing fireflies and fall afternoons paddling creeks, climbing trees and kicking up leaves. The past ten(ish) years I called Oregon home and before that I dabbled in Asheville, North Carolina, Madagascar and plenty of places in between. In November, 2012 I broke loose of business suits & commutes for good. Now I test my meddle gallivanting through SE Asia and chasing down the uncommon. Follow my travels at

8 thoughts on “Flight Roster of Filth

  1. The seedy side of trade and abuse of women.

  2. When culture shock is more than just a shock of culture. Beautifully portrayed.

    • It’s a heinous remnant of the US military presence, though certainly not just exclusively due to that.

      Thank you for reading.

      • That’s a perspective I had not thought about. Now that I do, it becomes even more clear. Kind of how the entire Geisha culture was also uprooted and completely infected . Thanks for sharing, would not have been easy.

  3. Eww… People are messed up…

  4. It’s SO admirable to take advantage of someone’s desperation.

    • Well stated.

      I simply cannot fathom what these men must tell themselves to justify their actions nor can I imagine how they can remain unaffected by the desperate humanity that they prey upon…

      And, I wonder, are they decent people the other 95% of their lives..?

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