Hooker Update

I'm adding this preface to the post because of something grrouchie said the other night while we were playing blogger's poker at MGM.  We were commenting on all the blog stories I was getting from the session and grrouch pointed out that I would eventually do the (long) blog posts months from now, but that I would be teasing said stories many times until I get to them.

OK, so for once in his life, the grrouch is right.

Heh heh.

Just a few days into this Vegas trip and I have tons of good material.  Some incredible (good and bad) poker hands.  Some fun girl-on-girl action from the blogger's tourney.  Insults flying back and forth among friends.  Tonite is the Alysia Chang "Cards Against Humanity" get-together, so that should get me a ton of good stuff.

But for now......I leave you with this post I wrote before I hit town.  Very soon I will need to find time to write some stuff from here, but it's too crazy here right now. So......

Astute readers (and I’m sure I have some) have no doubt noticed that I haven’t done a post about a real life encounter with a hooker in quite some time.  Well, I’m happy to report that the Vegas authorities have totally cleaned up the city, and there are now absolutely no hookers working anywhere in the city.  Las Vegas is now a 100% prostitute-free.

Just kidding.  It’s way too early for April Fools.  I am fairly certain there are still ladies selling sexual favors in town.  But you couldn’t tell by me.  Honestly, the last few times I’ve been to Vegas, I scarcely saw one.  Have they found different places to set up shop than they used to?  Or is it just a case of bad timing?

Anyway, in October, I did manage to encounter a couple, thought the meetings were less than memorable.  

The first one was over at New York New York, where I had parked my car.  Over by the escalator to the parking garage there was a young lady just standing, saying something to any unattached male or males that passed her by.  I didn’t get a really good look at her, but she was young and reasonably attractive.  I walked by her and she said something to me, but I didn’t hear what it was.  It was really late at night and I was extremely tired, so I didn’t stop to chat with her in the hopes of getting some material for this here blog.  Sorry, I know I’m letting you down.

A few nights later I was at the MGM.  I was wandering around, noticing some of the girls showing up for the night club in outfits that would make give their fathers’ heart attacks if they saw them.  And I walked passed a woman—somewhat older than the average club girl—in an outfit that was decidedly not nightclub-appropriate.

She was so plainly dressed that I wouldn’t have noticed her at all if I not for the fact that as I walked by her, she flashed me this huge smile. 

That’s pretty much a sure sign of a working girl.  Trust me.  I turned away and then found a fairly hidden spot to observe to see if I could confirm my suspicions.

Before I did, I assessed her outfit and it was really hard to believe she was a hooker.  Her clothes were more conservative than a nun’s habit.  I mean seriously, if she tried to go to church in those clothes, they would have refused her entry until she put on something a little flashier.

She wore a plain, loose top, brown in color.  There was a little bit of skin showing below the neck but it was cut way too high to show any cleavage.  She had on pants that weren’t tight.  The looseness of her clothes gave away very little information about her figure.  I’m guessing her figure was about average. Her hair was rather mundanely styled (medium length).  And I even checked her shoes, no heels.  They were flats.

I’ve mentioned this before.  My pal Woody and I have an ongoing debate about the size of hookers’ purses.  Based on information he got from a friend of his, he believes that hookers carry very tiny purses.  Although I have seen that, I tell him that most of the time their purses are fairly big, sometimes huge.

So I checked out this lady’s purse.  It was humongous. Seriously, it wasn’t a purse, it was more like a duffle bag.  She could have been hiding at least two—possibly three—performers from the midget show they have now at MGM in there.

So she couldn’t have been a hooker, I thought.  Maybe she just liked me.  Stranger things have happened, right?  Right?

But then she went over to a guy playing a slot machine, sat down next to him and began chatting.  I could tell from the body language this was a cold call, that they didn’t know each other.  She walked away a minute or two later.  No sale.

She sat over by another slot machine and said something to a guy walking passed her.  He stopped and pulled up a stool next to her.  They talked.  And talked.  And talked. Obviously, she was indeed a lady of the evening.  I just couldn’t believe she was dressed so plainly.  She made the hooker I described in this post here seem naked.

After a good 10 minutes or so, the guy got up and walked away in a hurry.  The woman stayed put and didn’t talk to any more passersby.  I lost sight of the guy, but I was sure he was going to either get some funds to complete the transaction, or perhaps ask some buddies if they wanted to join him.  I couldn’t wait around to see if he returned, but I was certain he would.

Sorry, those are less than exciting encounters.  So I will finish this post with a hooker encounter that my friend Abe had a month or so ago, that he posted to his Facebook page.  I reprint it here with permission:

Walking out of Mandalay Bay tonight there were two obvious hookers trying to get clients over by the bar area. They were talking with each other in such a manner that suggests that one of them was a little new to the trade.

I unfortunately was headed the same way and witnessed them trying to hook a few young guys wearing suits on their way in. They didn't bite, so out to the taxi stand they went. As they paused, I passed around them.

"Hey... where YOU goin?" the younger Latina one, presumably the trainee asks.

"Are you guys doing hooker school? Is this training? This is cute."

"Say what? Hooker school? Why, what you going to? Nerd school? Is that what you fuc---"

"Pfft. This is your witty comeback? Keep training."

I disappear up the escalators to their laughter. Apparently, part of hooker school is to insult potential clients. Free lesson!

I have a couple of quick comments on Abe’s story. First, perhaps the reason they insulted him was that they might object to be referred to as “hookers.”

Second, even if they didn’t object to being called hookers, they might not have liked it being said loudly enough for someone (like Security) to have heard.

Just thinking out loud here.  Still, a cute story, to be sure.  Thanks, Abe.