It does not take long in this job to know when you have a prostitute in your cab. It also does not take long to recognize some of them. Sadly, many passengers will ask you where they can get a hooker. As I do not want to be party to the mess called human trafficking I know nothing. I tell them about the strip club or the bars where legitimate hook ups occur. This affects my tips but allows me to sleep at night.
Many of the prostitutes live in clusters at hotels. When a hotel gets raided, they move to another hotel. When you have the incall/outcall women in your cab, you are often taking them from one hotel to another or to a residence (where you wait outside with the meter running a few houses down). Most of the time, both of us in the cab knows what everyone does and we do not talk about it for many obvious reasons. Every once in awhile, all bets are off and discussion happens.
One night I was picking up a regular outcall girl at a casino hotel and taking her to her hotel on the outskirts of our city. I've had her in my cab before for a hotel hop or two. She is a very attractive african american who is well spoken. I know well enough to know that she does not like to talk much. She got in, I started the meter and began what was supposed to be a quiet ride. She broke type that night.
She asked if we could go through the taco bell drive through. I told her that would not be a problem. She told me it had been a few years since she has been to one and asked me what I liked. I told her about the menu items and we had a discussion about cheap faux mexican food.
I pulled up to the window and she placed her order from the back seat and asked me if wanted anything. I said thank you, but no. As we were waiting in line to pay and get the food, she gave a nervous laugh and told me it was a shame she was gonna throw up after eating this. I agreed that that was a shame and told her I've had friends with eating disorders. I also told her I wish she would consider a radical idea known as digestion.
After we got the food we had a ten minute ride. She told me about how she used to have a curvy figure and she loved it. She needed a bikini figure for business, though. Then she told me about her mom and her grandmother. They were beautiful and strong and educated women who broke barriers for african american women. She felt ashamed to be what she called a "common whore". On the rare occasion she talks to her mother she tells her she is a veterinary assistant and taking courses online to get an MBA in literature to teach someday. She is terrified of the day the gig is up. The tears started breaking through at this point.
I told her that it was not too late to become those things. She told me that you don't get out of her line of work. You die or they toss what is left you out the door. Letters of resignation is not an option. Now the tears were sobs.
She collected herself by the time we got to the hotel. She paid double the fare and told me to keep the change. She also asked me if I had kids. I told here I had a daughter. Our conversation ended this way:
"Please be her daddy and not just her father. Protect her."
"I will. I promise. You are more. You matter."
I've not seen her since.
Tears.
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