Showgirls
(pros•ti•tute - pros-ti-toot)
It was in the mid 70’s when it all started. I must have been about eleven or twelve, and I was riding in the back seat of my dad’s car as my parents sat up front. It was probably one of those Fridays nights that we usually spent going to Chinatown for dinner and we were on our way back home via the Williamsburg Bridge. The car had stopped for a red light on Delancey and Essex streets, right before you get on the bridge, when a young Ozzy spotted his first glimpse of some trolling prostitutes (street walkers). The were all in typical mid 70’s spandex “Ho-ware” and were lined up in front of Delancey Liquors, a liquor store that I believe is still there nearly thirty years later. A landmark, which I never pass by without those fond memories.
I sat in the back looking at them while waiting for the light to change, when my prudish middle-aged mom sensed me starring at the girls along the curb and as she turned to face the back seat she said “Those are showgirls Ozzy, the shows must have let out early and they’re on their way home”. Showgirls I thought…. Is that what they call them? I knew better, and I knew what they were, I just didn’t want to ruin mother’s image of her innocent little boy.
Several years later when I was about 18 or 19 year old. I was driving home from Downtown one evening via that same route and I remembered that spot where I always used to see the streetwalkers on the corner from the back seat of my dad’s car, and as I approached that spot I convinced myself that if I passed anything that caught my eye that I’d finally pull over and treat myself to my first commercial sex experience.
Well as ‘my’ luck would have it. The “showgirls” were no longer there. They had apparently been up rooted and chased away from that long time stroll and were never to return to that area again. That, it turned out, would be my first commercial sex disappointment, and it would be a couple of more years before I finally broke my commercial cherry.
(pros•ti•tute - pros-ti-toot)
It was in the mid 70’s when it all started. I must have been about eleven or twelve, and I was riding in the back seat of my dad’s car as my parents sat up front. It was probably one of those Fridays nights that we usually spent going to Chinatown for dinner and we were on our way back home via the Williamsburg Bridge. The car had stopped for a red light on Delancey and Essex streets, right before you get on the bridge, when a young Ozzy spotted his first glimpse of some trolling prostitutes (street walkers). The were all in typical mid 70’s spandex “Ho-ware” and were lined up in front of Delancey Liquors, a liquor store that I believe is still there nearly thirty years later. A landmark, which I never pass by without those fond memories.
I sat in the back looking at them while waiting for the light to change, when my prudish middle-aged mom sensed me starring at the girls along the curb and as she turned to face the back seat she said “Those are showgirls Ozzy, the shows must have let out early and they’re on their way home”. Showgirls I thought…. Is that what they call them? I knew better, and I knew what they were, I just didn’t want to ruin mother’s image of her innocent little boy.
Several years later when I was about 18 or 19 year old. I was driving home from Downtown one evening via that same route and I remembered that spot where I always used to see the streetwalkers on the corner from the back seat of my dad’s car, and as I approached that spot I convinced myself that if I passed anything that caught my eye that I’d finally pull over and treat myself to my first commercial sex experience.
Well as ‘my’ luck would have it. The “showgirls” were no longer there. They had apparently been up rooted and chased away from that long time stroll and were never to return to that area again. That, it turned out, would be my first commercial sex disappointment, and it would be a couple of more years before I finally broke my commercial cherry.