Monday, January 3, 2011


I told this story on the Steve & Vikki morning show in Atlanta a few years ago and have been asked a few times to elaborate on it. As I've mentioned, I was a hustler in New York when I was 16. Toward the end of my time of being a big ol' ho and homeless, I found the easiest marks aka "Johns" were the out of townees.
One night I noticed a sad alcohol ridden couple that were partying it up among themselves at the Ninth Circle on a slow night. They ended up gravitation towards me...well the woman (really) started talking to me for her friend, breath reeking of Frangelico. She then asked what I thought of her friend...I said something like "His shoes are small and don't match his outfit" which she apparently thought was the most hilarious thing ever thing I knew, her tongue was in the back of my throat...LADY BACK OFF I ONLY ALLOW DICKS THERE!!! Apparently this warranted her friend to troll over and feel me up...then she asks the question "Are you a hooker?" and I reply "Me? Why would you think that?"

****I was wearing something close to this in December****

Next thing I remember is my friend Sunny Oz yelling across the bar "Have fun with the breeders" as we made way up the stairs and outside into a cab. What the bloody hell have I done? I am in a cab heading to a hotel in the financial district sandwiched between the two oddest people I could ever have met in a gay bar. I have visions of blowing the Iron Sheikh driving the cab to get out of this mess. We end up at a the Marriott Hotel in the financial district and into the elevator we all stand when the doors close. The elevator goes up and stops, she gets off and screams "have fun"...He and I go go up another floor and into his room. He passes out almost instantly, I'm bored and hate Marriott TV channels...look around to see..MINIBAR. It's like a vending machine, you pull, it dispenses and apparently charges the room. I find this out by flipping channels to the room info screen on the TV and see $375 charges to minibar after I'd filled my backpack with random crap like candy, nuts and airplane sized liquor bottles. A few hours later I shower before he gets up. Once he's up, with a hangover from hell and ready for his shower, I tell him I needed to get home before my parents realize I didn't come home. I loved the fact that he didn't know I was "homeless" and could use the "I'm in high school" approach to get out of there quickly. He said he thought I was at least 21 up to this point and offered me "hush" money...Who knew being underage could be so lucrative? I hit the door ASAP without the contents of my bag clinking together and power walked out the hotel and down the street to the train uptown to hang out and blend in to the rest of the city. I often wondered if he disputed the charges and how he explained it all...Good times for sure but definitely not for someone over the age of 18.

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