Thursday, December 18, 2014

The Ghetto Carwash

Heres another story about the Infamous Dan and the fun we used to have working together.   Dan and I never got tired of tormenting folks.  After the Citrus County Whorehouse episode, we had to find another way to entertain ourselves.  We couldn't help it.

One of these, younger readers.
Our office was in what my grandfather affectionately referred to as "The HCA".  High Crime Area.  It was pretty bad.   The neighborhood behind the office had regular car-b-cues and it was nothing to watch crack dealers doing their thing.  No big deal, our office was secure enough.

There was a car wash across the street from the office.  Lots of unsavory characters hung out around the pay phone at that car wash.   Remember kids, this was still the days of pagers.  Most folks didn't have a cell phone.

We formed a plan.   I brought in binoculars and Dan risked his life to get the number for that pay phone.   The plan was simple.  We had a spotter and a caller.  We took turns calling the hookers and crackheads at the car wash.   We would also get the occasional random passerby to answer.  

We were friends with a few guys in an office on the same floor as us.  One day they decided it would be a good idea to walk to lunch.  Dan and I  call this super surly hooker that we had previously harassed at the pay phone and tell her that we were walking over and wanted an appointment.  It was perfect because one of the guys walking did have a cell phone and was using it.  

Due to our prior harassment, she was naturally skeptical.

"Look across the street.  See the (insert description of what he was wearing that day) guy...   That's me.  My name is Brian (it really was).  Me and the guys want to party."  
RuPaul is actually prettier.

Picture Rupaul with a giant blonde beehive wig on.  That's what this hooker looked like and she was mean as hell.

We hung up, sat back and waited.  She walked out to the sidewalk to meet Brian and co.  The look of bewilderment on his face was beautiful, but not nearly as great as the looks of "so how does this person know you?" from his coworkers.  

Words were exchanged, wild head and hand gestures were plentiful.  In the end, Brian got away physically unscathed but who knows what psychological damage he still carries with him to this day.  

He is probably less damaged than the crackheads.

We would call the crack enthusiasts on the pay phone and in our best Top 40 DJ voice tell them we are watching from a van and if they start dancing for the cars going by, the guy with the best moves would win $100.   It's a game of numbers.   Most of the time, they babbled incoherently, but once in a while, magic happened...

Yeah, we're going to hell.

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