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That Time I Accidentally Picked Up a Hooker

This was a few years ago, and I’ve mentioned before that my memory is not that great nonexistent, but this is one story I will never forget.

It was around 2005 and my brother lived in a shitty part of a medium-size college town.  I lived (and still do) 50 miles from the nearest bar.  So I visited my brother frequently.  That is to say, I would crash at his place after a night of dancing and/or other bad decisions.

Even I'm not sure what was going on here.

Even I’m not sure what was going on here.

One morning, after what I must assume was a night of excess, I stopped at the convenience store right up the road.  I don’t remember what I had been doing the night before, but I do know I was still wearing the same clothes and I was out of cigarettes.

As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I must’ve rolled the window down for a smoke.  I remember hearing a shrill voice yelling unintelligible word-sounds.  It didn’t occur to me that I was being yelled at–I just looked out of curiosity, I guess.

What I saw coming towards me was vaguely alarming, but either I was still drunk or just slow, because instead of driving off I just sat there and smoked and waited for this loud stranger to reach my car.  I listened to her through the open window.  I don’t remember what she said or why I let her in my car.  I must have felt some sort of kinship with a woman, stranded, after a wild night…I don’t even know.  I do know that I wasn’t scared before she got in the car.  That’s when everything changed.  My stranded, helpless woman turned into something remarkably similar to this:



I wasn’t even out of the parking lot before she started ranting.  Turns out, her pimp friend had brought her to this street and left her the night before, but the gentleman she was supposed to visit with told her he didn’t like her because she talked too much and her hair was ugly. (Nothing like picture above.)  So he didn’t pay her.  Her pimp friend wouldn’t come get her, she didn’t have any money or drugs, and she was about to stab somebody.

By then I had kind of realized that a stabby hooker in my car was not an ideal situation.

That’s when she started getting really agitated.  She was wearing a sweatshirt with a pocket on the front and had her hands in the pocket.  I was driving, but she kept getting right in my face, leaning across the console to make her point.  She was so wound up that there was spit flying from her mouth, and she kept getting closer and louder and I just knew something painful was about to happen.  I didn’t know what the hell she was doing with her hands, but it was making me exceedingly nervous.  I was all the way up against my door trying to get some space, all while driving this woman who won’t stop yelling long enough to give me directions.

I distracted her with a cigarette and pulled over in a parking lot.  We’d gone about two miles.  I had no idea what to do with her; I just wanted to get her out of my car before she stabbed me.  But she wouldn’t stop screeching and she wouldn’t get out.  She was literally bouncing in the seat, but at least she didn’t have her hands in her pocket anymore.

I think this was about the time when she came down to earth enough to realize that this silly bitch in the driver’s seat was scared shitless.

I ended up cringing as far away as I could get while she told me her name (Pearl), where she was from (Texas), what she was going to do to the guy who left her last night (not pretty), and finally, that she just needed a liiiiiittle bit of money to get her by.  Whatever I had would be good.  Oh, I only had $10?  Well, how about that pack of cigarettes too then?  Yeah?  Okay, lemme write down your number, cause I’m gonna call you when I can pay you back.

The ONLY good decision I made that morning was not giving this woman my phone number.

I almost forgot! (Okay, I did forget.) Do YOU have any crazy hooker stories?  I can’t be the only one!

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