As some of you may have guessed, I live in DC. I live in a row house downtown, in the english basement apartment.. (I am making a longer story short here I promise). I used to have the occasional Hispanic male come to my door, always polite when I answered. Next door, in the upper part of the house lived a cute chick, from New Mexico, who spoke good spanish. One fine day, a hispanic gent knocked on the upstairs door, and the cute chick answered. He must have thought he had hit the lottery... She asked him in Espanish what the hell he wanted... Turns out the bottom floor of the house she rented was an illegal alien house of prostitution...No one ever heard a thing...She called the landlord, and had a fit, and next thing you know, the "english basement" was up for rent again.The postscript to this is...there was a problem with the storm drains shared by all the houses on the block, all upstream from that house. (I am downstream thank god). When the city dug it up to fix it, they found it was clogged by a giant ball of used condoms... True story I swear.
As a college senior, back before the flood, I lived in an old house that had been cut up into student apartments. Charming place, really, from the crumbling plaster to the dodgy plumbing, but the rent was cheap. Anyway, all of the students in the place were in my department, so we all knew each other and were on a friendly basis and there was much coming and going between apartments, visiting and suchlike. I was on the ground floor, with an awful view, and the nice girl who lived in the next apartment, with the nice view, was a classmate who was in a sorority and seemed to have a lot of gentleman callers, probably "little brothers" or whatever those were. So, it was early one morning, about 2 or so, when I'm awakened by loud knocking on Robin's door. I open mine a crack, holding the Nepalese kukri behind my back, and ask him did he know it was 2 am? The man, no student he, said the he just had to see Robin and that he had more money and was she at home? I told him the it just might be better for all concerned if he came back in the morning because people were trying to sleep here. He finally agreed to come back later. Next morning I saw Robin leave for class about the same time as myself and asked her about this fellow. She was rather shamefaced about the whole thing and said she was sorry if he woke me up but that he was an old friend of her's. I asked why did he say he had "more money"? I got and "uh, I have to get to class" kind of answer. Later, I began to notice that some of her callers were a touch older than usual student age and never stayed more than an hour or so. Fortunately, we graduated soon and saved us all from more embarasment.
Time to remove that 'HOOKERS R US' sign above the door.
Dad used to have a storefront business rental next to a sex shop. One of those lease spaces that looked very similar, and doors adjacent to the adjacent rental space. He said over the few years he was there, some really strangely attired folks showed up. :^) He politely told them 'next door - thanks'.
10 comments:
gotta be sumpin' more to that. Is the knocker something special? It's no bad as far as Knockers go but other than that?
Looks like sombodeys bad idea of a joke, must have writien somthing on a restroom wall.
Something like this happened to me in college....
Alright, gather round kids, Critter is going to tell us a story...
You never know what the previous owner did in your "new" house.
As some of you may have guessed, I live in DC. I live in a row house downtown, in the english basement apartment.. (I am making a longer story short here I promise). I used to have the occasional Hispanic male come to my door, always polite when I answered. Next door, in the upper part of the house lived a cute chick, from New Mexico, who spoke good spanish. One fine day, a hispanic gent knocked on the upstairs door, and the cute chick answered. He must have thought he had hit the lottery... She asked him in Espanish what the hell he wanted... Turns out the bottom floor of the house she rented was an illegal alien house of prostitution...No one ever heard a thing...She called the landlord, and had a fit, and next thing you know, the "english basement" was up for rent again.The postscript to this is...there was a problem with the storm drains shared by all the houses on the block, all upstream from that house. (I am downstream thank god). When the city dug it up to fix it, they found it was clogged by a giant ball of used condoms... True story I swear.
As a college senior, back before the flood, I lived in an old house that had been cut up into student apartments. Charming place, really, from the crumbling plaster to the dodgy plumbing, but the rent was cheap. Anyway, all of the students in the place were in my department, so we all knew each other and were on a friendly basis and there was much coming and going between apartments, visiting and suchlike. I was on the ground floor, with an awful view, and the nice girl who lived in the next apartment, with the nice view, was a classmate who was in a sorority and seemed to have a lot of gentleman callers, probably "little brothers" or whatever those were. So, it was early one morning, about 2 or so, when I'm awakened by loud knocking on Robin's door. I open mine a crack, holding the Nepalese kukri behind my back, and ask him did he know it was 2 am? The man, no student he, said the he just had to see Robin and that he had more money and was she at home? I told him the it just might be better for all concerned if he came back in the morning because people were trying to sleep here. He finally agreed to come back later. Next morning I saw Robin leave for class about the same time as myself and asked her about this fellow. She was rather shamefaced about the whole thing and said she was sorry if he woke me up but that he was an old friend of her's. I asked why did he say he had "more money"? I got and "uh, I have to get to class" kind of answer. Later, I began to notice that some of her callers were a touch older than usual student age and never stayed more than an hour or so. Fortunately, we graduated soon and saved us all from more embarasment.
Time to remove that 'HOOKERS R US' sign above the door.
Dad used to have a storefront business rental next to a sex shop. One of those lease spaces that looked very similar, and doors adjacent to the adjacent rental space. He said over the few years he was there, some really strangely attired folks showed up. :^) He politely told them 'next door - thanks'.
It's one way to get your teen age daughters to dress in a slightly more conservative fashion.
Its simple ... this is my place. The hoes are around back. Whats the big deal.
Post a Comment