Scene: The ladies "bathroom" at Penn Station, NYC. Approximately 9 PM. I walk in begrudgingly, as the bathroom at Penn Station is the underboob of the world, sweaty and itchy and forgotten by the sun. It is the Hellmouth of bathrooms. It is a very very unpleasant place to be, is what I am saying. But when a girl's got to go, a girl's got to go. And since I had missed the train by MINUTES, and had to wait another hour, I didn't have a lot of options. So I sulked my way into the bathroom.
As I went about my business, I heard one side of a conversation from the next stall. It began thusly:
Other Stall Person: I'm an entertainer.
Me: *thinking* I'm a mental patient! Nice to meet you! Okay, she's clearly on a cell phone. How interesting! Let's listen in!
OSP: No, no, I don't think you understand, honey. I'm an ENTERTAINER.
Me: *thinking* OOH! HOOKER!!!!!
Hooker: I'm an entertainer. So if you want to go out with me and have fun, that's one thing, but my specialty is one on one entertaining. I'm an entertainer.
Me: *thinking* He doesn't get that she's a hooker. Oh man, this is the best thing ever.
Hooker: Honey, the kind of entertaining I do? You don't want a group. Now if I brought a friend…
Me: Watch out, mister potential-john! This sounds like it's getting expensive!
Hooker: No. No. Honey, why don't I come over and show you what I mean.
Me: *thinking* Explain!!!! EXPLAIN!!!
Hooker: Okay baby, I'll be over soon. I think you'll understand better then.
Me: *thinking* Oh man, this guy is SOOOOOOO over his head. Or maybe over HER head. Kinky! Okay, stop. Hee. Heeheeheeheehee. Hooker! Next to me in the Hellmouth bathroom! *I* need to make a phone call!
I hear the hooker leave the stall, and I follow suit. She was a pretty girl, wearing a tube dress and hooker heels, and I think you know what hooker heels are. They're also known as Stripper Shoes, Hooker Shoes, or some other combination of those words. Here, I will demonstrate:
You get the idea. So she was checking herself out in the mirror, and I walked by, looking bored, like you do in NYC (hint to tourists: LOOK BORED) and went outside to make a phone call. A VERY URGENT PHONE CALL.
Friend Of Banshee: Hello?
Me: OH EMM GEE.
Me: You don't get it.
FoB: Clearly. What don't I get?
Me: I mean, you and I can go OUT, but it's not part of the deal.
FoB: Is this code? Do you have a gun to your head? I told you to be careful in the city!
Me: No no no. Dude. I'm an ENTERTAINER.
FoB: Great, she's drinking again. Dude, I will stage an intervention and I will put it on A&E, I swear.
Me: I'm not drinking, I'm an ENTERTAINER. I ENTERTAIN.
FoB: Sigh. You're making no sense. You're an entertainer? Like trapeze entertaining or a hooker entertain?
Me: *dissolves laughing*
FoB: OH EM GEE you're HOOKING? Baby I know cash is tight, but I just can't allow this!
Me: Not ME, you knob.
FoB: Your friends? Your…wait, are you at Penn Station?
FoB: You're at Penn Station…at night…WITH HOOKERS? AWESOME!
Me: YES YES YES, ENTERTAINERS!
FoB: Man, this shit only happens to you.
Me: Tell my ass about it. Damn.