I went to USC even though my Uber sherpa told me not to. I got a burrito in West LA even though we know that’s not the best spot. I wasted at least 45 minutes trying to get my Benz key fob battery replaced at midnight.
And I didn’t tell this beautiful woman from MIT I was in love with her and we should start a family in South Pass.
But I did drive. Even though I wanted to just snuggle up with a series of giant bongloads and ice cream, I got out there into the night and drove until 3am for several reasons including we only die once.
His name was Richie he was an Asian millenial from Culver City who had just gotten back from Vegas where he was ‘consulting’ with a super rich nepo baby.
Richie works for a well known bank has a job where in order to keep their best customers happy, he’s instructed to hang out with a few of them to wine, dine, and visit boobies.
Richie has done this with this in Hollywood, North Hollywood, West Hollywood, Atlanta and TJ with this particular gentleman who trades stocks through him, finances homes, boats, small businesses, but is basically a 60-year-old teenager who can’t get enough of the best things in life. Blondes, redheads, and mexican hookers.
My passenger says he has an expense account but it only goes so far. So when the client told him, ‘meet me at burbank airport on noon Friday,’ there was Richie with a little rolly suitcase, a business casual outfit, and some comfortable shoes because they were going to gamble and drink and maybe snort somethings. But he knew they were really gonna spend a bunch of quality time at the Spearmint Rhino
home of “more 10s than I’ve ever seen, dude,” he told me.
oh, I know, I agreed. not only have I been a customer, I shared with Richie, but i once ubered a young lady from Brentwood to LAX and when I helped her with her lil rolly bag it was light as a feather and i was stiff as a board.
Richie was back there in the dark backseat. Head leaned all the way back, wiping his nose as we cruised down the 10 towards the palisades – another place i shouldn’t have gone to bc once you’re there late at night you can get stuck, but the angels were with me.
he was downing purple Gatorade while telling me how he blew through a grand at the Rhino in just a few hours because you can get a private room for $300 for 15 minutes, and then the bottle girl pours you and the dancer two shots for $100
to myself i thought, they ripped you off my man. but i just listened. a rarity.
later he told me of an adventure they had last year where they flew to san diego, took an uber to the border, walked over the bridge, and got to the infamous Tijuana Hong Kong strip club slash brothel.
if this guys so rich why’s he humpin mexican girls in TJ i asked
dude, i dont know. he can have anyone. he just likes talking dirty to skinny mexican hookers.
did you get any of them i asked?
no. i needed to make sure he didnt get robbed.
typically i wouldnt have gotten along with a guy like Richie. he seemed a tad frattish, a little elite, but for some reason we hit it off. sex drugs rock. and he was keeping it real with me. i appreciated that.
sorta reminded me of the boy scout from Up, but all grown, uh, up.
told me about one time he talked his client out of going to mexico and instead took him to commerce where there are just as many skinny mexican dancer prostitutes except a lot less danger. there he got a $350 half and half he called it.
beautiful beautiful woman, he smiling like it had just happened.
and i thought, i could never do any of that in a million years. im so much a germaphobe. Plus how am i gonna explain myself at the pearly gates? she was pretty?
St. Peter’s gonna say, they were all pretty. wtf tony.
but Richie looked so happy talking about it. like he was surprised she got down on her knees so quickly when he pulled out his roll of cash.
i wanted to ask him about the music because thats my favorite part of strip clubs but began nodding off and in the dark s-turns of the wooded palisades i was getting a little sleepy too.