The following is a true story. It happened to me -- yesterday. Crazy shit is always happening to me, but this is definitely crazier than usual. Feel free to laugh, but do note it would not have been funny if I were truly hurt, mugged, maimed, raped or left for dead in the Hudson River. I hope that telling my tale will prove therapeutic, as I am still quite shocked.
First of all, let me just say that I’ve always found Pimps ‘n Hos to be a “funny” topic. It’s also a popular Halloween costume, a fun Vegas party theme, a lifestyle that’s been glamorized in hip hop circles, an embarrassingly watchable late night documentary series on HBO, the subject of numerous movies (HUSTLE & FLOW most recently) and an Oscar winning song (congrats Three 6 Mafia). In fact, the funniest thing to me about pimps is that I’ve crossed paths with the most famous/successful one – The Bishop Don “Magic” Juan – three times in my life. (He’s Snoop Dog’s best friend, even appears alongside him in OLD SCHOOL.) The first time he gave me a helping hand at a press conference. The second time we were on a flight to LA together. The third time we were at an MTV party and he invited me back to Snoop’s suite at the W on New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t go because I was with a boyfriend at the time – and it would’ve been a questionable move regardless. Anyway, I used to kid that he saw my “ho potential.” Ha-ha-ha.
But then I was involved in an altercation with a crack ho and her pimp yesterday, and now I’m no longer laughing! OK, I’m still nervously giggling, but as Tami from "The Real World: Los Angeles" once declared (before she got David kicked off the show), “It isn’t not funny!” Or something slightly incoherent like that.
So, this is what happened: The time is 3pm. It has finally stopped raining in Manhattan. I think, “Hmmm, should I go to the gym or should I go for a jog outside now?” I choose outside. Everything starts off as normal. I head down to the West Side Highway Park. I love running by the water, especially up and down the piers. I do this pretty regularly. So it’s just like any other day until I come across these two crackies. They are walking towards me on a rather narrow path on the pier. Since there’s no room on either side of them, I just motor right along in between them. Suddenly I am wailed on the back by the shorter lady crackhead. I stumble a bit, then turn around in a daze. The male crackhead is screaming at me, but I can’t hear him because I still have my headphones on (“Circuit Breaker” by Royksopp. I really love this song and hope the experience hasn’t completely ruined it for me).
Anyway, I don’t stick around to rationalize with these folks. I ran straight up to a park security guard and told him what happened. He calls the police who come and apprehend my assailants. I stay a few hundred yards away, wary of facing them again. One of the cops tells me I should press charges, saying they could do this to others if I don’t, but I’ll need to appear in court if I do, yada-yada-yada. I’m just thinking, “Fucking hell, I don’t need this drama!” So the cop says at the very least they should be made to apologize to me. Again, this doesn’t sound like a great idea -- if they get a good long look at me, they’ll probably inflict a whole lot more damage upon me next time. Did I mention I’ve seen this pair before? Yeah, well, they seem to frequent this particular area so I’m shit out of luck either way. As I hesitate, trying to decide the best course of action, the dude suddenly lashes out and attacks (bites!) one of the officers then runs. Now there’s a whole chase scene that occurs...all because of little innocent jogging me. The cops all run after the guy, leaving me and the little crack lady who originally hit me in the first place to get to know each other better. Fabulous!
At that point I decided to get the funk out of there. I leave my name and information with another security personnel. Soon an ambulance has arrived and the EMTs explain that they must check me out before I go. I say I’m fine, that I have a family party that I’m now late for (this is true). The two EMT guys ask if they can come. Oh, sure -- just what I feel like doing right now boys, flirting. Jeezus. As I agree to get in the ambulance (as long as they will give me a lift home), one of the officers who chased the bad guy returns. She explains that the man was a pimp and the woman who hit me was his ho. Apparently when they told him he was responsible for her actions, he went berserk. Ahhh, now it all makes sense. It’s hard out there for a pimp, indeed.
Well, after this hour-long ordeal I finally made it home in one piece. I cried, took a shower, and popped half a Xanax. Today I’m going to the gym instead and buying myself a Swiss Army knife to attach to my key chain. To paraphrase my favorite gang movie of all time THE WARRIORS: “Crackheads, come out to play-i-ay!” (That's me in the red beret in front.)
