The village idiot of Las Vegas visits a whore house.

Up until a few days ago I can honestly say I had only been to 'a house of ill repute,' as my mother so eloquently called them, one time. It was on a family trip to London a long time ago. My cousin and I were partying in the SOHO district and somehow or another we found ourselves there. It's a funny story; but one that will have to be told on another occasion. Well, fast forward twenty some years and sixty some pounds and wouldn't you know - I was back - in a 'house of ill repute' that is.

My friend Norris called me the other night and told me his brother was in town. "He's down at the strip partying all night and he left me his rental car. Let's take a cruise up to the whore house in Pahrump." At first I denied his request, and then he started begging, "Please - I know a girl up there and I want to see her. I am way too drunk to be driving that far. Come on, you're not doing anything. Just drive me up there. You can sit at the bar for an hour or so while I do my thing and will head back. I will owe you one." He was right - I wasn't doing anything - so I agreed. Besides, I was curious. How many guys can say they have been to an actual whore house?

He shows up twenty minutes later. I take the driver's seat, and after an hour and a half trip. We find ourselves pulling into the parking lot of the world famous Chicken Ranch in Pahrump, Nevada:

We walk in and the madam shows us to the bar/lounge area. It must have been a slow night because it was just Norris, me and another guy. I take a seat at the bar and Norris seats himself on one of the leather couches in the lounge. "The girls will be out shortly," the madam tells us. Five to ten minutes pass and then five girls walk into the lounge. One of them approaches me at the bar and asks me to buy her a drink. I had exactly twelve dollars in my pocket and her drink took ten of it. She then asks my name. I give her my alias - "Jack Gallegos," I then ask her name, "Star," she tells me. Turns out she wasn't much into small talk. "What are you looking for Jack?" I tell her this, "I want to go around the world, the whole enchilada baby!" I had two dollars in my pocket, so anything past that was going to be out of my price range.

"The works will cost you twelve hundred. I promise it will be the best time you ever had." Unfortunately, she was $1198 more than I could afford. So I politely declined the offer and she took her ten dollar drink elsewhere. Five minutes or so passes and another girl approaches me. "What's your name sugar?" I tell her Jack Gallegos, "Jack, my name is Willow, would you like to have a good time with me?" she says. I ask her what an around the world will cost. She was a little more cost friendly than Star, "Baby - I will show you the time of your life for eleven hundred." Even with the price reduction, Willow was slightly more than I could afford. So I politely declined the offer. After Willow leaves my side, not a single girl approaches me again. I'm surmising the girls at the world famous Chicken Ranch are mighty adept at spotting a tire kicker.

I hadn't seen my friend for an hour or so and then he reappears from a hallway area in the south corner of the lounge. He was carrying the widest grin I have ever seen on a man. "You ready to head out?" he asks. I nod and out the door we go. I was planning on asking him how things went on our ride home; but he passes out before I get the chance.

As I am staring at the at the lonely stretch of highway through the windshield of my friends brother's rental car and listening to him snore, I begin thinking to myself - "Most men would find it incomprehensible that I found myself bored to death at a whore house. What man in his right mind would believe such a thing? The simple fact of the matter - if you venture into 'a house of ill repute' without any money - you might as well consider yourself a leper on a deserted island."