Hookers and Tramps

Is there anything better than a lovely French hooker? If there is, I've yet to know of it.

So, all Visco's talk of hookers has required of me a blog post. I was up in Baxter Park for 3 days this week. It's been a long time since I was up there, being out west and all, and I missed it. But not much has changed, which of course was Percival Baxter's intention. The mountain is still rugged, the water is still clean, and cell phones aren't to be used. I can attest to the fact that his vision is being well executed by the park authority. If only other pieces of the state government could work so well. Donnie Rumsfeld is war criminal. But I digress.

On the way out of the park I'm cruising thru East Millinockett heading for the highway. I see someone hitchhiking on the side of the road, scandalously close to La Casa, northern Maine's home of the finest in adult entertainment. (I'm not sure if anyone who speaks spanish has ever even been in the town, but whatever.) As I slow down (I pick up hitchers quite often) I do a quick scan of the girl. Yup, she is a stripper. For sure. Not a doubt. The long length denim skirt has a front and a back. But they're not attached. At all. Tight T-shirt, no bra. Underwear? Unlikely. Big duffel bag of, well, whatever strippers have big duffel bags of.

In hops "Delilah," doesn't think twice about riding with two dudes who smell like roses and just took showers 5 minutes ago. "Where you headed?" "Bangor." "OK." So were off, and poor Mike thinks maybe the time in the mountains has effected my brain. I'm thinking that at least it's a story, because what's life without a story. Turns out that "Delilah" isn't much of a chatter ... I've always had a lot of questions to ask a stripper from northern Maine. How's the money? How many people have you banged as a result of your stage job? Does being a stripper make you a whore, or the other way 'round? Woe is me, but I will have to wait a while longer to know the answers to these questions.

The other question on everybody's mind was whether or not she was, in fact, a hooker. Sorry Visco, she clearly wasn't French. So, if she was a hooker would she have propositioned us during the ride? (She didn't.) Or maybe she is a hooker, but just wasn't working that morning. It's hard to know.

Ahhh, life.