cops, truckers and hookers

 

First the disclaimer.  As a blind man, I have not now, nor never sought the comfort of a Lady of the Night.  And I'll deny that I ever had sex with "that woman".  So there! 

 

But, back when I could see, and worked on Seattle's waterfront for a drapery factory, I made an interesting discovery.  Absolutely no police officer could tell me where to find a prostitute.  As far as they were concerned, no such business was conducted within the limits of our Fair City. 

But the truck drivers.  Now that was a horse of a different color.  I did say, Horse. 

"Where would a single fellow like me go to get laid?" I would ask.  Remember, this was just a point of curiosity on my part.  And I'll take the fifth...in fact if it's Rum I'll take two fifths. 

"Well", the drivers would tell me to a man, "Just trot on over to the New Orleans Room in the New Richmond Hotel.  You'll fall over them." 

So, just for the sake of verification, I hustled...uh, strolled over the several blocks to the hotel.  Sure enough, as I entered the cocktail lounge the place was hopping with comely lasses dressed in costume.  In those olden days, mini skirts, high top lace up boots, net stockings and an authentic imitation fur wrap singled that one was in the presence of a professional.  In those days it was five dollars a diddle, plus the cost of the room.  So for about ten dollars a lonely guy could be consoled for around half an hour.  Fifteen minutes if she was really professional. 

But after I had viewed the fine array of tushes, I began looking at the rest of the Ladies.  Haggard faces overly made up, too skinny arms, and bodies that really needed toning up. 

And they were really dull conversationalists.  Of course since they were hustling business, and I was not looking like a good prospect, they pretty much blew me off. 

Still, I did mention to a number of local cops that there was an active business center right beneath their very noses.  It took me several years to grow up and realize that the cops knew all about the New Orleans Room.  That was how they afforded the little extras, like the vacation cabin in the mountains and a nice apartment for their Mistress.  They had no interest in killing the Golden Goose. 

 

Real Curious Carl