One time in Dallas, I turned down a freebie with a prostitute. Not a freebie from a prostitute, a freebie with a prostitute. I told this story to my friend, and very catholic friend, Sharon once. How would this come up in conversation? Funny you should ask - for some reason, we were talking about men who go to bars to just pick up for one night stands, and someone in the group asked why said men wouldn't just go to a prostitute if all they wanted was sex. Of course the cliched metaphor comparing picking up a one nighter and hunting was brought up. Personally, I find that metaphor to be bullshit. I've never had a one night stand - nor would I want one. It's not because I don't like hunting - I do like hunting. I've never been hunting, it just seems fun. Except for the whole killing a defenseless animal and then drinking its blood. What's with the blood drinking? That's not the point. The point is that there's nothing wrong with one night stands, but don't bullshit yourself about it - don't make it seem deeper than just wanting to get laid, because that's all it is.
So back to the prostitute, and let me be very politcal about this. I can't say when or where this was other than it was in a hotel lobby. I'm speaking with this guy who we'll call Frank. Frank and I had been drinking heavily all night, discussing a variety of subjects. Hours had gone by since i'd eaten and my stomach was craving something greasy before I went to bed. I let Frank know this, and he says that he's had enough for the night and he's heading up to his room.
Words begin to form in my head. Room. Room. Room. Service. Room. Room Service. We start towards the elevators and just as we are about to push the up button, the doors to the elevators open and two young women step out. Both were dressed quite, well, they looked like hookers. Sorry, they just really looked like hookers - they weren't dressed like they were heading out to Wal-Mart to buy some shampoo and a "Dirty Dancing 20th Anniversary Edition" DVD.
My new buddy face changes. It looks like he knows them, or at least thinks he does. Now this is the weird part. There's no lollygagging or anything - he just asks one of them how much. Right there in a fancy hotel lobby. How much. Prices are discussed - reasonable prices I assume because my new buddy offers "..hey, let me get one of them for you."
Never in my life, and never since, has anyone ever offered that. I can imagine picking up my venti cafe mocha (no whip) from Starbucks. I can even phathom (big word) grabbing the check at Mortys after wings and pitchers. But a prostitute - no.
I sobered up quickly and politely declined his offer. He said it was no problem and he whispered in the first prostitutes ear, and just like ole' Saint Nick up the chimney, all three of them were gone.
Standing in the lobby, still semi-dumfounded by the whole conversation, I noticed a waiter wheeling over a room service cart. ROOM SERVICE. I took the next available elevator to my floor, ran in and dialed the three digits. A bacon cheesburger, fries, and strawberry cheesecake.
The next morning I woke up - strangley hungry. I looked around the room and there was no empty plate with lettuce and a ketchup stain. Where was my cheesecake covered fork? No where. The red, message waiting light was blinking on my phone. I pressed the message button on the phone. One waiting message. "Hello, this is room service, we're sorry we missed you - no one answered the door when we tried to deliver your food. Have a nice day."
Oh the humanity. The humanity!