Chapter 31
Drive-Thru Hookers

Unlicensed street vendors

Ms T and I were walking thru an area just off Boston Common today, and I was reminded of one of the strangest and funniest experiences I had here back in the mid-seventies.

One weekday evening way back then, a young lady and I were driving past the Boston Common after a late dinner. A warm summer evening. We were coming up Boylston Street at the base of the Common, and there was a little, unexpected traffic jam. Dead stop, both lanes. Is there an accident or something? Look around.

Most of the cars have one driver, usually male. That's not unusual. The car in front of us has two guys in the front seat. A couple women come out from the sidewalk to talk to the driver and passenger. Gee, these women are dressed really skimpily, like hookers. Wait, they are actually hookers.

The car in front of that one, two cars in front of us, has only a male driver. And a deal is struck. A blonde babe in hot pants and tank top, with a little purse on a chain and cork soles. (Remember cork soles?) She is leaning way in the driver's window. And then her cork soles are bouncing up off the ground a couple inches, up and down, up, down, up, down, for a minute, maybe two. Then she pulls her head out of the car and he begins to drive forward.

We recognize exactly what happened and are laughing hysterically. Where is a video camera in your cell phone when you really need one? Not invented yet, unfortunately. This is the electronic stone age of the mid-seventies.

Looking around some more, we note that there is a police car two or three cars behind us. When he pulls forward with the rest of the clog, the girls head back to the curb. But they don't bother to disappear. Just one more commercial enterprise in the theater district. Wow. Drive-thru hookers in downtown Boston. Whodathunk?