Whores are funny. Not Ha Ha funny. Strange funny.
I knew a few of them in my day. When you live the drinking life you would run into them all time. Especially since I worked in Midtown in the 1970's and early 1980's so there were a lot of them around in the dive bars we used to go to back in the day. Of course that was chickenfeed compared to Atlantic City.
There was whores everywhere. You couldn't wave around a dead pussy and not hit one in.....well the pussy. There were the high class ones in the big casinos like Caesar's and the Trump Plaza. Lesser but still semi-respectable ones in the more low rent casinos like Resorts or the Showboat. And of course the hot pants wearing hookers of legend lined up on Atlantic Avenue behind the boardwalk. The cops would always push them off the boardwalk and casino security would push them out of the casino. If they were blatant about it. Still some of them could pass for players. They might hit the slots for a couple of dollars and then hang out at the bar.
I remember one day we were at Caesars around three in the morning. There was an Irishman a chink and a Jew. Hey that could be a joke. Anyway Schlmo's eyes were popping out of his head. Chinky Dave's were slantly as usual. Schlmo was a good orthodox boy out of Borough Park and this dirty goyim was leading him into temptation. He had never had a drink until he went to the pub with us after work. Where he proceeded to order a kamikaze. As a drink and not a shot. I go to him "Easy tiger you should start slow." He didn't care. He demanded the drink. So I had Oona bring it to him. He slugged it down. Threw up all over the table. Funniest shit you ever saw.
Anyway we are hanging listening to the music. There is this extremely and I say extremely attractive black chick wearing a fringed dress and a headband like she was Pocahontas or sum shit like that there. Chinky Dave and Schlmo are drooling. She looks over at us shyly and smiles and looks down into her drink. Which was definitely seltzer. Which was definitely a whore.
Schlmo goes "Hey she is looking at us." I go "Of course she is pal she's a whore. That's her job." "She can't be a whore. She is dressed too nice. She looks like Pocahontas." "Buddy she wants you to want to Poke-her-hotness. As long as you pay the bill. Hey its a party. Knock yourself out. You got a sheet with a hole in it with you." "Fuck you this is bullshit. I don't believe you." "Whatever. Com'on lets hit the Claridge before we go back to the Hotel."
No sooner then we get up then the hustler hustles over to us. She grabs me by the arm and goes "Hey Sugar were you going. You are going to miss the party." I say to her "Sorry darling but not tonight. But my friend here might want to read you some passages from the Talmud." Schlmo get so red I thought his head would explode. She turns to him and touches his touchas. "Say baby why don't you buy me a drink." He stammers "Errrr sure I would love to." I go "Great you two kids have a great night." Schlmo looks at me like he doesn't know if he should shit or go blind. We put on our jackets and walk out of the casino. Chinky Dave goes "Hey should we leave him alone. You think he is going to be alright?" "Hey our little boy has to grow up sometime. It is up to him. He's an adult. And he ain't that drunk. Plus he doesn't have that much money. I am holding his ATM card so he didn't hit it to gamble too much like the last time. Let him do what he is gonna do."
We called that trip Schlmo's Whore Mitzvah.
I think that was the first time he dipped his fountain pen in the inkwell. Well at least in the black ink.
(Dude has six kids now and a wife with a wig, Oy.)
7 comments:
If she was extremely attractive she was probably worth it. When I was sixteen or so I was riding on the subway, the A train - or was it the E train? - anyway, there were TWO, not one, TWO magnificent high yallers sitting and rocking, slowly, along with the motion of the train. This performance (for me, not for them, they were oblivious of the effect they were having) went on for several stations until they reached their station, got up and achingly, maddeningly, walked out. Wow.
This was back in the seventies. There was a prostitute, a very attractive but not sensational black woman, who worked the single bars on the. East side. She would hustle customers in the bar. Then, they would go outside to a limo. I presume the pimp sat in the driver's seat and kept the partition up for the sake of privacy, I only saw one time, but I was told that she had been there before and did a good business. Then she was never seen again. It seemed like a pretty safe, efficient and economical way of turning tricks. I wonder what happened to her and why that didn't become the standard way of turning tricks.
Another great one, Troop. You take us to a land and a time far away. Six kids and a wife with a wig, oy.
Thanks deborah.
I think tales of my misspent youth are a cautionary tale.
I got a million Atlantic City Stories. That doesn't even touch the Vegas ones. Jeez.
I ran into Schlmo not too long ago in Costco.
All he wanted to do is talk about our days in AC and drinking in Times Square at lunch time during the summer. It was a hoot.
Chinky Dave moved to Seattle.
Vegas, late August one year, Trek Convention, Lem meet-up, Trek convention, we'll crash at bago's.
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