In the past, I have shared a series of stories from my days publishing small town newspapers, from a job I had selling cars, about my time in the Army, and some tales of the offbeat adventures and misadventures I’ve gotten into in a series called Nick Happens. Now, I thought I would share some stories about a period in my life many years ago when I drove a taxicab in Tucson, Arizona. Oh, some of the things I witnessed back then! I’ve told more than one prospective author that if they really want to learn about human nature, they need to become a cop, a nurse, or a cab driver. You will see the best and worst of people in any of those jobs.
Note: This is one you might not want to share with your grandmother. Or read while you’re drinking hot coffee.
One of the biggest annual events in Tucson, Arizona, is the Gem, Mineral, & Fossil Showcase, which locals simply call the Gem Show. The event dates back to 1955, when the Tucson Gem and Mineral Society organized a small show at an elementary school in the city. They didn’t expect much of a turnout, but were surprised when over 1,500 people showed up to see what the vendors had to offer. Realizing they were onto something, the next year the event was moved to the Pima County Fairgrounds, and the rest is history. These days vendors, jewelers, museum representatives, collectors, and as many as 65,000 visitors from around the world are spread out at different venues all over the city, pumping $130 million into the local economy.
Everybody’s out to make a buck, and when you’ve got that many people with that much money floating around, you can bet that purveyors of the world’s oldest profession will be there, too. Hookers from as far away as Miami Beach and New York City show up in the Old Pueblo looking to get their piece of the action.
A good majority of them have pimps, but there are also a lot of independent girls working the show. Quite often, half a dozen women will share a cheap motel room where they go to rest up after a busy day or night on the town.
On this occasion, it was about 3:00 in the morning, and I had four or five of them piled into my cab, headed for their crib. I was driving down Miracle Mile, a notorious street for that kind of activity, and the women were jabbering away about how much money they had scored and the different Johns they had met. Then one of them said, “I don’t know if I can work tomorrow. After two days of this, my down there is raw.”
One of her companions said, “We can fix that up. Driver, find us an all-night drugstore.”
The first woman asked, “What are we going to do at a drugstore? Can you score some painkillers?”
“No, baby,” her friend said. “We’re gonna get you some Preparation H.”
“Preparation H? I don’t need that. It’s my hoo-ha that’s sore, not my butt!”
“I know, baby,” her friend assured her, “but it’s gonna work. Put a whole bunch of that down there and rub it in, and it’s gonna to shrink you up so much you’ll be a virgin when you wake up tomorrow.”
Back then there was a wide curve where Miracle Mile and Drachman Road came together, and in that curve was an island with a bunch of barrel cacti and a sign that said, “Welcome to Downtown Tucson.” I say was because when I heard that, I started laughing so hard I missed the curve, drove right through those cactuses, and knocked the sign down.
I’m telling you, folks, you can’t make this stuff up!
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And finally, here’s a chuckle to start your day from the collection of funny signs we see in our travels and that our readers share with us. Spelling has become a lost art.
Thought For The Day – Any lesson you refuse to learn will repeat itself until you do.
Nick Russell
World-Famous, New York Times Best Selling Author, and All-Around Nice Guy!