In the Patricia Parking Lot with Peter

And yes, his name really is Peter and he used to drive a white cavalier. He wore glasses and lived in Burnaby.

It was a really rainy, gross night (most of my stories have this setting for some reason, but this is how I remember it). I had started out the evening dope sick, and had managed to score one date with a regular- was paid $30. It is hard to get a date when it is ugly outside, and every girl will be out trying to make money, and the guys know that they can negotiate cause everyone of us needs the money BAD.

I was pretty stoked I had that money. I was able get myself well, basically, and was also able to get some crack to keep me company while I worked. I wasn't one of those girls that would go make money, go buy dope, and go back to work when the dope ran out, the usual vicious cycle. I preferred to make money, go buy dope, THEN go back to work right away. It did make the whole "process" a little less offensive to my soul. The soul I still had somewhere deep inside of me.

Pretty much right after I had bought what I needed and had fixed the heroin,

a regular of mine pulls up to the curb before I even had a chance to do a hit of the up that I had. It was Peter, and I was STOKED. It is awesome when you could do back to back dates, especially when the streets were deserted.

I had known Peter for a while, he was young, he grew weed for money, and was a normal guy. I wouldn't say that we were friends...cause one friend usually doesn't pay the other friend to perform sexual favors. But we were familiar, I had been to his house. When we did hook up, we did the date first and then we would always hang out for a while, and go to Stanley Park or something. He would smoke his weed, and I would do my dope.

I got in his (lame) white cavalier and we drove about 10 feet and he pulled into the Patricia Hotel parking lot. He said he had to take a "leak" and then we would go. He got out and starts urinating against the wall that was right at the front of the car where we had parked in one of the stalls. I took the opportunity to load my pipe and light it up. After a minute or two, when he was walking back to the car, I took no notice of him walking past the door to the back of the car. A couple more minutes pass, and I glanced behind me to see what he was doing, and guess what? Apparently, cops, the fuzz, or "six" (as we called them downtown) had been driving by and saw what he was doing, and pulled in to check him out. I had turned around right when they were getting out of the car and began asking him questions.

I am thinking , "Please Peter, don't be an idiot..", and then I notice that they were doing sobriety tests on him, and he was failing miserably. I had no idea he was drunk. Not that it mattered to me, it wasn't like I was going to not go with him cause he was driving under the influence. Finally this male cop comes up to my door, whilst his female partner is cuffing for drunk driving, even though he wasn't technically driving at the time.

I never tried to make excuses for what I was doing, whenever I was questioned by the police, but I was pissed off cause my date was going to jail, with the money I could have made. I got out as the cop is asking me, is there anything in the car that is illegal. I say that I had no idea. I knew about Peter and his weed, so not wanting to get my ass in trouble, I told the cop that Peter smokes weed, and if there is any in the car, it isn't mine. He finds Peter's stash under the driver's seat. My cop goes over to him and is asking him about the weed, and I can actually hear Peter blaming it on ME! Can you believe it? What a prick.

Cop comes back over, and wants to know if my bag contains any drugs, needles etc. I said "hell yeah, there's needles in it". I had thrown crack loose into my bag when I saw the cops. I often did this, cause they would have no idea if it is just garbage or who knows what in the bag, they are looking for a container, or something more obvious. Even with their little blue latex gloves, they don't wanna be getting poked by a "rogue", uncapped needle. Most people are HIV positive down there.

He starts searching my bag, finds my pipe, smashes it and says, "If I find something in here, and you lied to me, I can take you to jail". I had no idea if he was serious or what, but I said yes, I did have dope and I got it out for him. He didn't even go through my whole bag, so I probably would have gotten away with NOT telling him. By this time, Peter's car was already on the tow hook and on the way to the impound lot, and he was in the back of the cop car. He was probably so pissed off that I walked away. Ha ha, of course, they no reason to detain me. (Unless giving a good ******* is a crime- laugh- that was a joke)

After he confiscated my dope he proceeds to say all sorts of sympathetic sh*t to me, about how I seem like such a nice girl, I am being so cooperative and how I didn't belong down there. He saw I only had a minor record, and told me that I needed to get out of downtown and the whole lifestyle. He gets out one of his business cards and writes on the back the number for an organization that specializes in helping sex trade workers get themselves together. He said, "tell the Tom sent you".

I cried. Cried for various reasons: because my dope was gone, which was a "burn". I got to do ONE "toke" and that was it, my dope was gone. I cried because it was as if I just did sexual favors for some guy for nothing, since I had nothing to show for my "effort" (DOUBLE BURN). I cried because this cop was so nice, and I really felt that he meant what he said. I knew he was right, I was way nicer and way less screwed up than most of the lifers down there. I can't even explain it, but I felt his sincerity in whatever was left of my soul. Enough so that I remember him, years later.

But I never called the number, so I never did get to tell them that Tom had sent me.

I have written 2 posts that involved some sort of interaction with police officers that were sort of cool. As cool as a police officer can be, anyways. This is not always the case (female cops were never nice from what I remember). I did a date with a cop once, and he was hot even, but he was super creepy. I could not wait to get away. He tried to pick me up again another time, and I said no. Maybe he wasn't a cop though, it isn't like I asked to see his badge.

Well, I did see his badge, in a sense.