Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The Good ole’ Days
A long time ago, I used to be a stripper. Some of it was fun and wonderful, some of it hurtful and tragic. I don’t think I was very good at it. Well, I was good at dancing naked on stage, but most of the job is mental and that part wore on me.
After a while, I started putting a lot of stuff up my nose and hooked up with Jimmy, an aspiring internet gay-porn star. We would take trips to Vegas and I would dance at Cheetah’s (yes, I know, eye roll recognized) until six in the morning all coked outta my brain and completely out of it. Not a very safe situation. When I would get to the hotel, Jimmy would wait until I fell asleep, steal all the money, and go gamble. Every night we would have to downgrade hotels. From mgm to the Stardust to Freemont street then worst part of downtown until eventually, I would wear out physically and mentally and we would be out of money and have to go home.
I remember this one time at Cheetah’s. It was about 5 am, I did three dances for this guy, and I was so tired and out of it. I was just grateful that he was well behaved and I was planning to leave when we were done. He held up a 100-dollar bill and asked if he could have a 20 back. I nodded and dug into my little purse for a 20. He crumpled the 100-dollar bill, thanked me as he put it into my hand, and walked straight out the door.
I looked into my hand and unfolded the bill. I blinked a few times before realizing that it was a 1-dollar bill that he had given me. I laugh now thinking that in the state I was in, he must have marked me from a mile away.