I first met Michael in 1993. I was working as the chief sub-editor on the features desk of The Nation, a Thai-owned English-language newspaper in Bangkok.
Michael was hired as a copy-editor, or as a "language expert," someone who could sit with Thai reporters and help them rewrite their stories -- as we used to joke among ourselves, from "Tinglish" into English.
The job required two main skills: One was an excellent working knowledge of the English language. The other was diplomacy. To live and work in Thailand meant to understand the concept of "Face," how to be gentle and congenial when coaching Thais so as not to offend anyone.
Michael had the first of these skills in spades. As for the second skill, well Michael was a little hit-and-miss at first. To say he had a strong personality would be to undersell him. Commanding might be a better word.
Michael would usually start his workday around noon. He'd enter the newsroom much the same way everyday: in he would walk, with short quick steps, blazing yellow hair, dark sunglasses on, usually some kind of scarf, brightly colored shorts, and often an even brighter shirt, and always the biggest Big Gulp cup you'd could find in Bangkok, presumably filled with diet Coke.
On some occasions, he'd be sporting a head wound of some kind, likey the result of some nocturnal bust-up where Michael would tease the wrong kind of person and get bashed on the head with a bottle, a wooden ornament, or anything within reach. Trouble was not hard to find in 1990's Bangkok. Anyway, Michael was quite proud or fascinated by these encounters and even had a series of photos hanging on the walls of his apartment showing his various head wounds. His trophies, I guess.
Anyway, so Michael would prance into the newsroom, login into his computer, read a few lines of a story and then ridicule some poor reporter, staccato-style, always punctuated by a hearty laugh. I would watch from across the room and think: how is this guy ever going to last? He was a competent copy-editor, for sure, but he was way too sassy for both the Thai and foreign staff. Many were a little afraid of him because it.
But last he did. Michael and I worked together for nearly 3 years, before my departure to the rival Bangkok Post. Not only did he last, he flourished at The Nation and even moved into television work, where he did guest appearances for The Nation Junior, the English-teaching arm of the then fast-growing multimedia company. Michael was the Idiom Idiot, a comic foil to the presenter and his good friend Andrew Biggs.
We'd end up at a lot of the same parties back then, even before I met my girlfriend, and it was always amazing how the most beautiful girl would almost always swoon over the obviously gay Michael. To his straight friends, this was more than a little disconcerting. Damn you! One night this gorgeous, curvy and slightly drunk Western girl became infatuated with Michael at a pool party. We were all trying to catch her eye, but all she wanted to do was flirt and play with Michael's hair. That was until he picked her up and dumped her head first into the pool. Nobody saw that one coming. Least of all her. But she got out, dried herself off and continued her pursuit. Why???
Soon before leaving The Nation, I became neighbors with Michael. My girlfriend Lee and I took a flat right across the hall from Michael and his then-partner Joe, a great big fixer-upper in the heart of the Sukhumvit area of Bangkok. Michael and Joe would always throw great parties, the best of which were Michael's annual Thanksgiving dinner parties. His blender would pump out a nonstop stream of margaritas, and there would always be one of Michael's famous Amsterdam spliffs making the rounds, but Michael's parties always went of like clockwork. Everything in its time, perfectly presented, usually with a quick quip and a laugh, before Michael would spin on his heel, disappear into the kitchen and return with a new party favor or scrumptious delight. He was always the most organized person I knew. And it never seemed to matter how much he'd have had to drink.
Michael moved back to the States in 1996, and then onto Hong Kong. I moved back to California in 2001. But we always stayed in touch, and despite the time and distance he never once forgot my birthday.
We were fortunate to spend a good amount of time with Michael over the next dozen years. Lee and I met him in Hong Kong, where he managed to show us the whole place in about 12 hours, a whirlwind of drinking and site-seeing. But usually we'd just hangout in Santa Monica, where we'd reprise our Monopoly and Risk tournaments -- Michael loved board games -- over way too many bottles of wine. Or we'd head off to the Getty, explore Hollywood, watch movies and concerts, walk the beach. Lots and lots of play time.
That's what I'll remember about Michael. All the good times we had together. He may have been sassy at times, but the thing I always admired about Michael was his courage. He was never afraid to be himself. A smart, fun-loving gay man in full. I will miss him greatly.
