When I came to LA for the summer I had just turned 21, but my best friend hadn't yet. Imagine how much that sucked, having only recently turned 21, being in a new city with tons of exciting bars... but not being able to go out. Finally, about 2/3 of the way into our stay, Brandice* had her 21st birthday. And we went ape shit. It was like we were dying of thirst, but our thirst was for jager bombs. We were going to take Hollywood by storm, starting with Sunset Strip.
Our first night out in LA we had a demure, sophisticated night out (read: boring) at Chateau Mormont. The next night we got a little rowdier. We hit up a bar called Red Rock.
We met a couple of guys, we had a couple of drinks and before we knew it... closing time. But that's okay. This is LA. The guys knew of a cool "after hours bar". I had only had two drinks so I drove and the guys climbed into the back of my '98 Mustang Convertible (rocking, I know). They directed us to a bar that I now know as The Frolic Room. We had a drink, but it turns out it wasn't actually an after hours bar, so after our one drink we were quickly ushered out. But that's okay, this is LA. They knew of ANOTHER cool "after hours bar".
Brandice was getting increasingly wasted and I was starting to wish we could just ditch the guys and go home. But we were supposed to be taking the world by storm! So I let the guys direct me to our next location. I drove and I drove and I drove, and the neighborhood got weirder and weirder and more residential.
And then we were there. Except we weren't anywhere. We were on a street of crappy looking homes in what at the time I assumed was Compton, but now know was most likely just West LA (yes those places are absolutely nowhere near each other, but other then my apartment and my internship I had no idea where anything was) . The guys got out of the car and headed for one of the homes. I tried to grab Brandice's arm before she followed them, but I couldn't catch her in time. Either way she did not seem concerned that we were most likely going to die tonight.
An old black man opened the door a crack and I think, although I may have added this into my memory for effect, asked for a password. The door was locked with one of those chain locks that you only find in hotel rooms and apartments where people get murdered a lot. He closed the door, drew back the lock, and ushered us in. Then he locked the door behind us. With a key.
Right by the door there were several very large men playing poker around a table, smoking some of the largest joints I've ever seen. We passed by them and over to a wooden bar in the next room. It was the kind of bar your dad would have set up in his basement den for when his friends come over to watch football, not the kind of bar where you order $2 MGDs from an 80 year old man with gold capped teeth. And yet that's exactly what we did. The guys led us to a table in the corner by a large juke box and we sat. By this point I was terrified. I couldn't speak, or move, or tear out my hair and scream for help. I was frozen like a statue.
And that's when the girls came out. They strutted out in single file from what I can only assume was one of the house's bedrooms. And there was no denying it. They were prostitutes. This cool "after hours bar" was, in reality, a brothel. And not a nice fancy brothel like you read about in Game of Thrones, or even a kind of cheesy brothel like in that reality show about Las Vegas brothels. This was a brothel where half of the hookers were missing teeth and are more than willing to let you pee on them for the right price.
(Not at all like this picture)
It wasn't until one of the girls took a seat on the guy next to me's lap that I jumped up from the table. Without a word I grabbed Brandice's arm and pulled her towards the door. Which was locked. We were trapped. The large men at the poker table were staring at us. I am very surprised that I didn't piss my pants at this point. Then the 80 year old man appeared and unlocked the door. I literally sprinted for my car. The guys tried to follow us but I turned into Ryan Gosling in Drive and sped away, hopefully spewing gravel in their faces.
After that we had a lot of demure, sophisticated (read: boring) nights out, and I was totally fine with that.
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