My bike commute takes me through a variety of neighborhoods, from my own thoroughly gentrified street, through a thriving immigrant-driven mini-downtown, a decaying industrial and warehouse district that's starting to revive, more gentrification, the corner of downtown proper, artsy midtown, and the affluent Country Club Plaza and Brookside, etc.
Some of these neighborhoods, you'll see occasional hookers. They're not always obvious, especially if you're looking for something that matches the streetwalkers of movies and TV. They're generally ignore me (which is fine with me) — and there are several possible reasons:
- Some people take me for homeless because I carry too much shit on my bike. And even if they don't there's an assumption in America that someone riding a bike for transportation must be really poor.
- I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of their trade is carried out in their customer's automobiles. A Brooks saddle is real comfy for one person, but it'd probably make a lousy place to have sex.
- I don't act like I'm trolling for hired sex, because I'm happily married and even if I weren't, gross.
Anyway, I was not in a neighborhood where I've ever noticed that a few particular women are always waiting for a bus with glazed over eyes. I was in a neighborhood where I was pretty sure the law would come down hard on a streetwalker. Plus, it was early in the morning, still dark out but I was on my way to a day job.
The woman who offered to stab me, I don't think I even gave her a double-take, but I look around constantly when I ride for my own safety, and that helmet light goes wherever my gaze does. If I'd noticed anything before her outburst, it was that she wasn't wearing a lot of clothes for 44ºF and six-ish in the morning.
After, the thing that stuck with me was her reference to 'tonight.'
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