I escaped the thronging masses of Hat Yai to arrive at a city defined by thronging masses. Bangkok struck me as a grotty Xanadu, a truly great Asian metropolis with the kind of pungent excesses Kuala Lumpur is too middle-class for, and Singapore has already banned. If I wasn't bored and friendless in Bangkok I would've indulged in the yin-yang tourist culture - temples by day, go-go bars by night. But swirling currents of touts, tourists and tarts in peak season Bangkok turned every interaction into a commercial transaction, little bribes for stoic conversation. The invasion by vast armies of tie-dyed, granola-chewing backpackers thronging the Lonely Planet trail and amply-girthed sex tourists lapping up the love-you-long-time sleaze struck a depressing nerve.