America, You Sexy Bitch by Meghan McCain Michael Black

Author:Meghan McCain, Michael Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780306821080
Publisher: Da Capo Press

Meghan: After they leave, I once again ask Michael, because we have been sitting in the lobby of a North Little Rock Red Roof Inn for over an hour at this point: “You want to call it?”

“Hell no,” answers Michael, but I know for a fact that “Hell no” actually means “Yes, I’m old and exhausted and I want to go back to my room to troll Twitter.” I know him, I know he wants to go to bed and tweet, or post a video blog about President Clinton and Little Rock, so I am going to stay up all night out of principle alone. I am, however, sick of sitting in the lobby. I want to go out and explore, since there is really no other option.

I tell Michael I’m going to take a walk and he actually looks concerned.

“You can’t take a walk out there,” he says. “It’s dangerous and the Suicide Girl just told us there are truck-stop hookers and meth heads.”

“Don’t be such a pansy,” I reply. “I’ll be fine.” Michael insists on joining me, with his worried face sternly attached.

We walk outside into an area that, to put it mildly, looks more sketchy than when we drove past it earlier, high up in our air-cooled RV. The darkness doesn’t help. We walk along the dead-grass edge of a utility road scattered with trash, broken bottles, and beer cans. We don’t see another single person. After a nervous few minutes of vulnerability, we arrive at a gas station where, yes, we see a woman in a short, tight, pleather miniskirt, a tank top with no bra, and giant tottering heels. Our friend from the lobby was right: this apparently is a good place to pick up prostitutes.

I try not to stare or look shocked, and fear I’m doing both. Michael actually looks really surprised and a little concerned for the woman.

“How does that happen?” I whisper to him. “How does one get there?” I know I said I have conflicting feelings about strippers, earlier in the trip, and I do. Prostitution is a different story. I don’t think there is a person on the planet who as a little girl dreamed of being a roadside hooker. This is not the first time I’ve seen a prostitute, but it is every bit as sad as the few times before. I think about the recession, people hitting hard times, and am awash with gratitude for all the opportunities I have been given. Hell, my problems are nothing compared to a significant portion of the rest of the population’s. I feel terrible for women caught in this world, and wish there was a way to tell them there is a better way and a better life. I’m just not sure that is necessarily a true statement, nor do I think they want to hear it from a woman like me. The economic disconnect is striking at midnight outside this filthy gas station in North Little Rock, but what worries me most is that this scenario is being repeated in too many places to count across the country.

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