A baxi driver and a prostitute walk into a bar...

So I had a bit of a strange end to my night yesterday. It was around 315am. Only Pjay and I were still working, we figured we'd keep going until things slowed down. A women seemed to want to get a ride but her male friend wasn't interested. eventually she jumped in and told me to follow him. We caught up to him and he begrudgingly got in, though he was good spirited about it. They asked me to take them to CJ's. I hadn't heard of it, but they told me where it was and it was close. When we arrived I saw it was a pink building with a a pink neon sign. It looked like a small bar, Wellington has plenty. They said I should come up for a drink, that she worked there. At first I said no, but they insisted and I aquiesed.

I locked up my bike and then went inside, they had already gone in. I had to walk up some stairs and through a door. When I went through there I had to go through yet another door which I had to be buzzed through which sufficed to say I found strange. I thought that maybe it was a strip club, it wouldn't be the first time I had been invited for a drink at a strip club while working (thanks Dreamgirls). When I went in it didn't look quite like a strip club, or a normal bar for that matter. There was a small bar, maybe 4 or 5 seats, a small cooler with some beers and other drinks and a small selection of liquor. There was also a few couches and a pool table in the back. Looking around more there also seemed to be a number of doors leading to small rooms. The place was almost empty save two women, both 55 years old if they were a day. One of the women got me a Heineken and there was some brief confusion before she realized that it was supposed to be free. Then the guy I came in with confirmed what I had at this point suspected; for the first time in my life I was in a brothel. Very strange.

Then for some unknown reason, though I suppose I can venture a guess, the man and women I arrived with left. I still had a 3/4 of my beer so I figured it was time to start up some conversation. I started talking to women sitting with me at the bar. I guessed she was 55-60, wearing a revealing dress and stockings and had a presumably surgically enhanced chest. We started by discussing the recent slowness in our respective occupations. This turned into a converstion about the many ways being a baxi driver is similar to being a prosititute. There were actually a lot of these though many of them could probobly have applied to a lot of jobs. In the end our jobs were both predicated on the people we intereacted with that night. We talked about all the great people we get to meet and having to deal with the not so great ones. It was a good conversation. I finished my beer and left. The brothel. Weird.