Adventures In Journalism

Adventures In Journalism part 1
By: Nadine Thomas Brown

How many prostitutes are there in Nassau? Where do they parade their wares? Do they have conventions, unions, vacations? Is there a retirement plan for elderly prostitutes? Do they have Pimps? Are clear heels the new call girl uniform? Why do they do it? These are just some of the questions I considered asking some of these independent “entrepreneurial young ladies of the night” if I found them. As it turned out the only thing I did learn is that their intrinsic radars- which seem to be able to detect intrepid ambitious journalists from miles away- enables them to either blend into the gritty streets which they have been rumored to traffic or simply disappear at the drop of a hat.

It is ten pm and my friend Bodine and I are on the prowl for prostitutes. This is my first time (tongue in cheek) so I pack my charm, my wit and my carefree spirit in with my camera and tape recorder and strap myself into my friend’s passenger seat in preparation for our search. Our friend Robert is attending classes till 10:30 and will not be joining us as planned. I am a little disappointed because I feel that with a guy in the car we would probably get the ladies to approach the car more readily- go figure! Still we are both starved for adventure and the night awaits us.Tw minutes into our search the phone rings and it is Bodine’s pesky (according to her) little sister. She needs a ride home. We are on the Cable Beach Strip and she needs a ride all the way across town into the Eastern District. Bodine and I consult and decide that we have more than enough time to find prostitutes.After all they are ladies of the “night”. We take the scenic route and soon Bodine’s sister and her two friends are ensconced in the back seat eavesdropping as we gossip about everyone we know. I think the people in the backseat can sense that we are both showing off just a little bit (ok we are showing off a lot,) but we feel we are entitled; after all we had not invited them along. Meanwhile, Bodine is valiantly trying not to go off on her sister for not first asking her about playing taxi to her friends.

It is 10: 45 pm, we are finally on our way (again) after making stops at the dressmaker (my friend is very annoyed and her claws are showing) and finally dropping her sister and her friends off. By this time we are both starving so we head down to Oaksfield looking for food. Kentucky is still open so we join the queue and place our orders. The woman who takes our order still manages to mix them up but we just say thanks and leave thanking God for small mercies. We realize that we are running short on gas so we pull into a service station. I see my friend Andre’ Chapelle and we chat for a while. He checks the oil and the coolant for us and we tell him about the mission that we are on. He tells us of the most likely place that we will find prostitutes and warns us to take off all our jewellery, and to keep the doors and windows locked. We show him the baseball bat and my friend’s high heels which could seriously hurt someone if applied to the right spot. Hopefully we won’t run into this type of trouble I pray silently. I am so not about the drama tonight, I think to myself.

With every distraction finally out of the way we make our way to Dowdeswell Street. This is the place to find prostitutes I have been told. I glance at my watch and it is 11:15pm. They should be out in full force I think to myself. I feel my journalistic juices beginning to churn. I am very excited. We spot three shadowy figures lounging
in the vicinity of Joy fm and my friend alerts me to the presence of our targets. I do a dance of joy in my head while trying to appear nonchalant. My friend indicates to one of the prostitutes that we’d like to speak with her.
On the off chance that she confuses us for “Sisters of Sappho” (lesbians) out for a thrill ride we quickly identify ourselves as journalists and explain our objective. We are greeted with an incredulous look and an accented ‘me not down with that right now’. My friend convinces the prostitute to stay and chat while I clumsily fumble for my tape recorder (a stupid move). Crickets chirp loudly in the ensuing silence as both Bodine and the prostitute wait for my thought provoking questions but my tape recorder is stuck. I finally win my tug of war with it only to see the hooker making a break for it looking like a vampire who has just caught sight of a cross. I try to convince her that I am not an undercover cop trying to entrap her but it is too late and she looks as if she is about to become boisterous. Fearing confrontation we flee. I am extremely angry at myself for blowing it but we have a list and a theoretical map outlining the most likely prostitute ridden corners so we move on.
Now this is the unbelievable part. Aside from the first three hookers we found we can not locate any more prostitutes in any of the other locations we try. We joke to each other that either business is extremely good or the prostitutes have all gone on vacation or found God. Our sails a bit crumpled, we decide to try one last spot- a local night club on West Bay Street. The women that we see entering the property all look like interview prospects so at the risk of offending any innocent parties who are present( and catching a beat down) . we decide to call it a night, grab a few drinks at a friends bar and retire from the tiring, pointless pastime of prostitute hunting, at least for this night.