|
|
2004-08-07 - 2:05 p.m. I read this entry by TranceJen regarding the going rate for hookers and had to laugh. Not just because she's quite a witty writer but also because it brings up something in my world. See, I've said before that my neighbor hood is a little...well, ghetto. And I don't mean ghetto fabulous, either. To look at my block, the untrained eye would simply see the lovely row houses, front yards and window boxes frothing with flowers, the children play in the street because they can - cars, in the daytime, are infrequent at best. But at night, things take on a seamier style. You see, I live on the other side of the Gowanus. Something about being in the shadows attracts the street whores to peddle their flesh in the semi-dark streets. They frequent the corner about a block right from mine in front of the self-storage facility as their preferred pick up point but for the deed itself they have been known to use my block. I would walk to work in the morning gingerly stepping around the discarded condoms. I had naively blamed them on the homonally charged humpings of adolescents on the block until one night when I came home in the wee hours and came across a �couple� in the act. I sidled by the car and was blind-sided by the realization that this was no teenage couple in a clinch. By the dawn�s early light, she could only be described as a sea hag. I had seen her around the block and she always looked strung out, still I was shocked to realize that she was a prostitute. When I told B about the scene he simply said, �Oh yeah, I see the prostitutes all the time when I work the night shift. They get picked up on that corner and then they park on our block to screw or whatever. From that day on, it was like an awakening, all of the sudden I saw clearly the operations in action. As soon as it starts getting dark you can see them standing with their heads leaning into the open passenger side windows � talking brass tax. Worse than that, I realized that all those times that lone male motorists would stop me on my way to the 7 Eleven to �ask for directions� they were probably asking after something else entirely. In fact, just a few weeks ago I had a proposition. It was at 9 AM on a Sunday and I was walking to meet my friend E for brunch when a car slowed to a crawl beside me, beeped twice and waved me over. I shook my head no and kept walking. Unperturbed, he rolled down his window and offered me a ride. I stopped and said, "No thanks, the church is just on the next block." In case you were wondering � I was wearing sweats, I had no makeup on and my hair was in a bun on top of my head � but I guess I still looked better than the crack whores that usually work there. � 
|