Just past the strip mall was a stretch of vacant land, a weedy area strewn with broken bottles and old tires- possibly where some houses had been razed in the past. As I approached a city bus bench I saw a lady, head down in to the rapidly oncoming rain scurrying along the deserted sidewalk. I figured she had missed the last bus of the day, and was just trying to get home from work.
I had come to live in the Ft. Lauderdale Florida metro area a year and a half prior from a small, Midwestern town, where folks help one another out. Thus I pulled to the curb. She hopped in with her oversize handbag. Flashed me a smile in the dim street light. As I pulled from the curb she asked "Are you a cop?"
I was taken by surprise with this comment! Why anyone would think a skinny, scraggly haired 19 year old guy with some acne driving a well worn 1976 Ford Granada was a "cop" was beyond me. I was simply doing something known as "Minnesota Nice" for a person that looked like they needed a helping hand. Below, a pic of me at 18, wearing my "I'm too cool to smile" pic.
I mentioned to her that I was headed for the turnpike extension, and she said that was fine. Asked if she could bum a smoke ( I gave that up decades ago) and I said "sure" and shook a Marlboro Light out of the pack with my right hand as I steered with the left.
In the dim street light I saw she had a pale, tired looking face. Nicotine stained fingers, no makeup. Fingernails chewed to the quick. Messy, shoulder length brown hair. She was dressed in shapeless dark slacks, and a loose fitting pull over top. Kind of pudgy, I would guess mid 30's, which to a 19 year old was "old lady".
I drove on, "So!" she said "Do ya like to party?" Well, as a red blooded 19 year old American male I said "Hell yeah I like to party!" Of course, "Party" to me meant going out to a gravel pit or a warehouse with a case of beer, and a bunch of other young folks like me. But her definition was something entirely different...
She told me her name but I can't recall it. She then asked "Lookin' for a date?" She was acting really friendly too, leaning in towards me, licking her lips...
Of course, dim witted 19 year old me had not figured out what was going on... Yep, I was being propositioned. By a working girl. A hooker. And I was clueless of this. I believe I said something like how I didn't have a girlfriend at the time.
You see, I had zero "street sense". I knew lots of things many city folk did not. How to skin a deer, catch and clean fish, fell trees for firewood, when to plant farm crops. Operate a hay baler, and give worming medication to sheep.
EVERYTHING I knew about "Hookers" came from either Hollywood films, where they are always portrayed as beautiful, statuesque women. Leaning against a street lamp in a short skirt, fishnet stockings, spike heels. The other source was when my buddies' Vietnam vet step dad would have a few beers and start talking about "Them whore houses in Saigon!" Which made me think there were actual buildings like a strip mall, with "WHORES" in neon letters! Even though the movie was not out yet, this picture of Julia Roberts is what I thought "hookers" looked like.
By this point, I had reached the intersection of Atlantic Avenue Extension and Hammondville Rd, the turnpike entrance. As I sat at that light she threw out another line, as she leaned in even closer...
"Want some half'n half? Seventy five bucks!"
The light became green, I crossed the intersection and pulled in the park and ride lot...put the Granada in park..."half and half?" I said, totally ignorant of the street lingo she threw down... She said "ya know, some head, some sex..."
She slid over. Grabbed my crotch through my pants, Pulled up her top with her other hand, then put her nasty, cigarette breath tongue (and what ever else had been in her mouth) in my right ear..."Come on baby, you wanna f**k me? Fifty bucks c'mon!" (This explains the baggy loose clothing...not so much for being sexy, but for ease of client access when peddling sexual acts in cars on the curb)
"Noooooooo!" I pushed her off... I in fact did not wish to complete this act with this person!
AND THAT'S WHEN THE COPS PULLED IN!
Blue lights in the window. Spot light drilling in to my rear view mirror. You see, when I crossed that intersection before the turnpike park and ride lot, I came in to the Coconut Creek jurisdiction. And Coconut Creek was a little bit of a "nicer" community.
KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM boomed the PA in the cop car...
I kept my hands on the window sill! Along my side of the car came a guy in uniform not too many years older than me. Buzz cut. Looked like he bench pressed a stack of anvils each day. One hand on the butt of his gun, the other on a giant flashlight, ready to crack it over my skull!
My "hitchhiker" in the passenger seat had already been removed from the car by his partner on the passenger side. She so nicely had upended the contents of her handbag on my floor, consisting of a glass pipe for smoking cocaine, and other drug paraphernalia.
Minutes later, I was seated on the trunk of my car. My "friend" was in the back seat of the cruiser. She they apparently knew well.
I babbled my true story out. Coconut Creek's finest mulled it over. Looked at each other. Shook their heads in disbelief. My driver's license was handed back. I was told "Get the f**k outa here, and we don't want to see you again!" then the other cop said "There's plenty of free p***y out there, and if there isn't, call an escort service!"
I "Got", I think I drove about two miles out of my way from that day on to avoid that entire area!
I never told anyone about this for over thirty years. Why? I really have nothing to be ashamed of. I thought (at the time) that the guy friends of mine would just think I was a loser who couldn't score with chicks, and the girls would think I was a scumbag pervert.
There are things in life you just have to learn. My pop never took me out back and said "Son, when you move to the big city, there will be hookers, and when one gets in the car, she's gonna ask if you are a cop." She never handed me a pamphlet entitled SO YOU'VE PICKED UP A HOE! There was no Google or "Urban Dictionary" on the not yet invented "Internet" where I could see what the terms and code speak she was using, and what they really meant.
Word may have reached the small town. My retired dad would have been taunted at his civic organization meetings! "HEY I HEAR YOUR BOY CANT EVEN PAY FOR PUSSY har har har!" would be enough for my folks to have to move, and leave no forwarding address! I would have been dis-invited from any class reunions.
Fortunately, none of this happened. I can look back on this and laugh now, partly at how naïve I was at that age, and partly at myself for being worried what people would think.
I do owe those two officers, who I did not ask the names of, a debt of gratitude. I think partially they believed me, and partially they didn't want to deal with the pile of paperwork involved in an arrest and towing my car. For I could been branded a sex offender which would dog me my entire life.
Just remember, never let a hooker in the car!
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