Caught In A Trap

I have several friends in the industry that enjoy going on "travel jobs" with clients, where they accompany the client on an out-of-town trip and get to see some city or corner of the world, all expenses paid plus a daily fee. It seems like a great perk for a sex worker, right? Not for me.

A longtime regular client of mine offered me a trip to Memphis this past weekend, where he is staying on a job. I met this client several years back when he was working on a job here in Chicago and he saw me every week for almost an entire year. I'd traveled with him once before to Las Vegas, a city I hated so much that it almost sent me into a panic attack. The trip didn't go too well and we argued several times, mainly because I was irritated about having to spend nearly every moment with this man, who I was mortified to be seen with. Even though it was Vegas, it was like everyone knew exactly what was going on. I eventually found a way to ditch him and spent hours in back of the casino playing the penny slots, which I later found out was where the hookers hang out. Guess I shoulda known.

I don't travel well. I'm a bit of a homebody and when I'm trapped having to play "Andrea" for 36 hours straight, I can get cranky. Traveling with a client is different from traveling for pleasure...you are essentially working 24/7 until the trip's over. This is the way I feel about it. Having some middle-aged man trail around with you all day and night calling you by your pseudonym while the public stares at you with that "what are you two doing together look?" really works my nerves. I do most of my work in private and like it that way. I honestly don't want to be seen in public with most of these people.

Nevertheless, this time around he'd been begging me to come visit him in Memphis for a weekend, so I figured since January is slow, I'd take him up on the offer. I'd always wanted to see Graceland anyway, so this was my chance to go, get it over with, and make some money. I flew out on Friday and he picked me up at the airport and hit Beale Street, the nightlife district of Memphis where the jazz and blues clubs are. We had some authentic Cajun food at BB King's restaurant and then walked up and down the street browsing shops and eventually settling at a bar which had a great blues band playing. That feeling of being "out of place" started to subside in me and I tried to enjoy myself, but was secretly wishing I was with some of my actual friends whom I'd be having a much better time with.

Then my memory began to recollect what I already knew, but had somewhat forgotten. This guy was a raging alcoholic. A functioning alcoholic maybe, but for every drink I had, he ordered two, and didn't even want to eat a meal until he had several drinks in him. He became more and more annoying as he got drunk and started to touch me from time to time, so I tried to move away from him. By the time it came for us to leave and go back to the hotel, he was too intoxicated to drive and couldn't figure out his way back. We asked some nice guys on the street for directions and the one looked at me and said, "you're driving, right?" I guess so. Just another hat for me to wear-designated driver. I'm pretty used to it by now. I have to drive my friends in Chicago everywhere.

So we begin driving around Memphis, getting lost and going the wrong direction every which way. He keeps apologizing, but the sound of his voice is like nails on a blackboard to me at this point and we stop off in gas stations in dangerous neighborhoods, getting incorrect directions that lead us to nowhere. Memphis is not exactly the safest town and I'm just hoping I can make it back to the hotel safely so I can at least see Graceland. Thankfully, we do.

It's pouring rain on Saturday but there's only one plan of action for the day and that's to see Elvis' house. We head over there and get tickets for the full tour which includes several museums, Elvis' planes, and of course, the Graceland house tour. The Christmas decorations are still up and they're totally old school, including a giant nativity scene and flying reindeer's that say "Merry Christmas to all!" There's an audio tour that allows you to view the house at your own pace, but he continues to follow me around, not leaving a room until I catch up to him and prompting me to speed up while I dawdle at certain exhibits. I tell him to go ahead of me or just ignore him.

I was suprised at the size of the actual house. It really is no larger than your average two story house in the suburbs, but the way it's decorated is truly what makes it special. It's like walking into a time warp from the 70's and everything has been kept in pristine condition over the years. My favorite room was the "jungle room' which had wall-to-ceiling green carpeting , fuzzy shag furniture, a wet bar, and a functioning waterfall in the corner. It was decorated for Christmas with a tree and even had some of the gifts Lisa Marie presumably got when she was a child. Another favorite was the "pool room" in the basement with was decorated with brightly colored slightly tacky 70's style fabric that covers the entire room. It was a sight to see!

The property is fairly large and includes a horse stable (they still have horses but none were out), a racquetball court, small pool, and the meditation garden where Elvis and his parents are buried. Fans were putting out birthday cakes and wreaths for his birthday on January 8, including one lady who baked a three tier cake that she was posing with. There's also a museum with all his cars, including his pink Cadillac, his actual jumbo jet that has gold-plated sinks and belt buckles, and a collection of his jumpsuits, which were pretty magnificent, to say the least. I would encourage everyone to go if they are ever in Memphis, it really is worth it.




Unfortunately, there isn't much else to do in Memphis, so we struggled to find a restaurant to go to that night, as he doesn't really go out anywhere there except for the same ole' places, night after night. I was ready to get on a place and head home that night, but I had to stick it out and pretend I was having a good time every time he asked me, which was like every five minutes.

Of course we ended up at a bar that night and I pretended to be interested in the football game while he ordered Fuzzy Navels with double shots of vodka, leaving the waitress bewildered on how to even charge someone for that. We struggled to make conversation, but mostly I was done by this point and was secretly chanting "there's no place like home, there's not place like home" inside my head. After he drank about five of these overloaded cocktails, we retreated back to the hotel, but it was still early, so he wanted to have some more drinks at the hotel bar. This time around we ended up drinking some blue concoction that was similar to a Long Island Iced Tea. After the third drink, I started to feel sick, but he ordered another round and I began to realize how pathetic his life must be. At one point he started crying about his father's death and I tried to console him or at least change the subject, but he's really in his own world. I have a lot of friends who drink, but this guy blows them all away.

My flight was scheduled for 5:30 Pm on Sunday, but I was determined to get out of there as soon as I could. There was nothing left to do there and my blood was boiling just having to be around this person for any additional length of time. i found an earlier flight and asked him to drive me to the airport so i could fly standby, nixing our planned breakfast trip to the Waffle House. Oh well. Still, we had unfinished business. i demanded my compensation for the weekend and he acted all flustered, actually believing that I came to visit him out of the kindness of my heart. He said he thought "i wanted to come visit Memphis", as if the plane tickets and meals (all of which he charged on his corporate credit card, which his company pays for) were enough. Yeah right. He opened his wallet and counted some bills and I corrected him... "no, you better go to the ATM," I demanded.

Then the bottom dropped out. he said he didn't have enough money in his bank account and could only give me a "couple hundred" now and would have to Paypal me the rest later. This is a guy that drops $1000 a day gambling in Vegas and he doesn't have enough money to pay me until his next check? It surely isn't the alcohol he's buying because his employer seems to be paying all that, in addition to his living and travel expenses. I reminded him that I have friends that get paid $1000 a day to travel with clients so he needs to wake up and realize what the deal is here. I ain't doin' this shit for the hell of it.

The nice thing about regulars is that they're your bread and butter...you need them in this business or it's hard to stay afloat. The bad thing about them is that sometimes after you've seen them for so long, they get the idea in their heads that you'll see them without charging them anymore, because they get it in their heads that you actually like them. It's kind of a sad thing, but it's happened to me on a few occasions. Apparently, that was the case here.

Now all I can do is wait, but after this, I'm done. No more out-of-town trips with clients, no overnights, nothing. I'm staying here in Chicago and people can come visit me if they want to see me. It's funny, but whenever I leave here and visit another city in the US, I realize how lucky I am to live here. Cigarettes may cost $7.00, the people are rude, the traffic is congested, the construction in everywhere, the gas prices are inflated, and the weather is sometimes freezing, but I can't think of anywhere else I'd want to be. We have so much here that it's easy to to forget about until just a few days somewhere else makes me realize where my heart is-