New Hampshire Man Seeks Tranportation Gets Solicited for Prostitution; Wife Seeks Refuge in Walgreens

When we first announced we were planning our trip to the BIG APPLE, it was far from heartwarming.

"You are going to get mugged.  Or robbed," my mom warned as she instructed us that we would have to wear socks so we could stick our ATM card in it.

And the ever-anxious mother-in-law described in detail her dream about the four of us walking the streets of NYC falling victim to a gangster drive-by shooting.

Despite the drama, we packed up and two days into our trip we were across from the Port Authority Bus Terminal between Thursday night's finest thugs and a curb of Broadway's Late Night Ladies including Miss Shaniqua in her pink velour leotard and four inch stilts.

It was 11 or so PM after our visit to Times Square and it was time for the Husband to alert our transportation.   So with me and our two doe-eyed daughters in tote, said Husband rests at a corner and dials UBER.  I've been married to Said Husband for a few decades so I have mastered the 'reading of the lips technique' and mid-sentence I translated "WE NEED RIDE to HOTEL" to "GET US THE HELL OUT OF HERE STAT."

He was sweating something Philly-cheesesteak-like which could have been due to the threat of impending mugging, robbing, or drive-by shooting our mothers had threatened us about OR due to the 93 degree temperature reading even at the stroke of midnight. 

When I saw his hands begin his directional ballet, I squeezed my daughters' hands and assured them it would not be long.

UNTIL DADDY would be offered some WEED.

Well, first it WAS weed.

Then it was "the goods."

And finally, any girl he wanted.

Yep.  That's as good as it gets in Times Square if you don't leave before the clock strikes midnight.

So you watch from a few steps away, your groom of 18 years, making friends with a New York City PIMP.

It was very different than how you planned your marriage.  You anticipated a house and a few kids and probably even a trip to the BIG APPLE.

But you never imagined that man who promised you better or for worse to be offered any chick on a city curb or worse yet, Shaniqua who forgot to wear her tutu apparently.  Or a bra.  Or at least eyebrows.

About the moment the City Slicking Salesman announced "this is my block, Man" and "I can get you whatever girls you want, Man" and immediately after he placed his arm around my groom's shoulders, I became very jealous.

Of the people who were safely inside a Walgreen's pharmacy.

I didn't care if the father of my children canceled UBER and ordered Shaniqua instead.  I WAS GETTING MY DAUGHTERS OFF the STREET and into Aisle 11 pronto.

Which conveniently had very nice air conditioning.

So after all the killing and dying-on-the-streets cautions our mothers insisted on, our trip to the BIG APPLE would end like this.

My husband, a small town cheese-loving, backyard-living boy, walking arm-in-arm with Tito, Times Square Fast Talking Pimp and me distracting my daughters with Walgreen's Weekly Specials.

And damn-it-all, I was wearing flip-flops so I didn't even have my ATM card!