Call Me Ismail

Call me Ismail. Having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me, I thought I would drive about a little. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to drive my taxi again.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs - commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

And there, at the corner of Christopher Street and Greenwich Street at midnight on the night of Saturday May 27, 2000, a girl got in my taxi from the back door while I was stopped at a red light.

After I had turned on the meter and we were on the way to her destination (which I shall not reveal to you), she said "I am a prostitute." She then said this several more times.

Without me asking anything, she then explained her rates and charges for the various acts which she performs. This was way out of my price range and, when she asked if I was interested, I said "No. Not at all. I have a girlfriend."

"What has that got to do with me", was her reply.

She then explained that she had only made $700 so far that night and she needed to make $300 more to satisfy the quota set by her man.

When we got to her destination, she paid me with seven slightly wet dollar bills. I found to my astonishment about ten very scantily clad prostitutes standing on the same Manhattan street corner. I thought that our beloved fascist dictator had chased them all off the streets, but now that he is on the way out, they are apparently on the way back in. I also found out that my passenger was only wearing a bikini - Appropriate for a beach but not likely dress for a Manhattan street corner at midnight.

This has given me a wonderful money-making idea.

My passenger was a beautiful girl, tall, about 5 feet 10 inches, with curly blond hair. She had said that she was 20 years old, but she looked younger than that.

What I propose to do is get Liam to loan me his photography equipment (I am certainly not going to pay thousands of dollars to buy camera equipment which I will only use one time) and then go back to that street corner next Saturday night and photograph all the girls standing there.

I will get their names and ask their permission, but if I do not get their permission I will photograph them from a distance using a telescopic lens on Liam's camera.

Then, I will put a series of ads on my web site. Each will have a picture of one of the girls and will say "Give me $25 from your credit card and I will tell you where you can find this girl".

When I have the credit card number, I will tell the customer the street corner where she stands and what time she can be found there.

Needless to say, I will split the money with Liam. He can also put the pictures on his web site.

We will both get rich.

Ismail Sloan


On Wed, 31 May 2000 01:27:53 GMT, wrote:

It's quite likely that there is not very much light there. IF they are standing under a street light, some shots may be possible, but the angle of the light will cause some very unflattering shots. I'm not sure if this is worth it, Sam.

I went back this Saturday, June 3 at about 11:00 PM, but on foot, not in my taxi.

Although several beautiful women were strolling past this particular street corner, none of them were dressed as prostitutes.

However, I can report that this corner is exceptionally well lit. It may even be the best lit street corner in Manhattan late at night.

There is a 24-hour grocery store on this corner which provides most of the lighting. It is obvious that whenever the police sweep by, the prostitutes jump into the grocery store and pretend to be shopping until the police leave.

I went into the store and asked the clerk at the counter about the prostitutes. He said that they are really terrible and they are there every night, seven nights per week, but they do not come until after midnight, so I was there too early.

He suggested that I come back later.

He wanted to know if I was the police. I said that no, but I have posted a story about his store on the world wide web. I gave him the web address and he said that he would look it up on his computer when he gets off from work.

So, Liam, do you think that the lighting will be enough? Will you loan me your camera equipment so I can take pictures of this, which will no doubt be of great interest to many viewers?

Sam Sloan

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