So after sharing a special moment together on the train, the woman went to the bathroom to freshen up and probably come up with a new plan seeing that such come ons as "Maybe we could meet up later?" "Do you want to be my boyfriend?" and "where are you staying?" were not making themselves loud and clear to Dan. She'd probably just have to come out and ask him if he'd pay her to have sex. But we intercepted the situation, and while she was in the bathroom, we asked Dan if he realized she was a prostitute. He denied it and was even a little upset that we'd suggest his new friend, Roxanne we'll call her, was willing to sell her body to the night. When she came back, the conversation continued, and after Matt's relentless inquiries as to her profession, Roxanne finally rolled her eyes and said, "I'm a stripper." Dan, relieved that she at least did not have sex for money, only took her clothes off, proudly announced to the entire coach of the train, "Hey guys, you hear that?! She's not a hooker, she's a stripper!" ... Silence. It took a couple seconds for commotion to start up again in our awkward part of the world as we made our way to Nice. After a couple minutes, Roxanne got up again, and we took the opportunity to reassure Dan that she was indeed a prostitute. We even pointed at her pimp, a younger man in a dark blue button up shirt with extra large collars that flared out, jewelry hanging off of every appendage of his body, a well trimmed pencil-thin beard that bordered his chin, and rotten black teeth, probably from smoking crack or something. He was hiding at the bottom of these stairs spying on us the entire time, and we pointed him out to Dan.
Dan, now realizing that we were on to something, got a little nervous. The woman came back, said she had to go and she'd like to see him again, then walked off. Then she walked down the stairs, said something to the pimp, pointed at Dan, then walked off. The pimp then walked up the stairs and into the cabin where we were, pulled out a pen and a notepad (pimps are apparently a very organized group of artisans) and asked Matt if he wanted to write his number or email. Matt didn't even look at the dude and simply said "No" and signaled with his hand for the pimp to walk away. He then turned over to Dan and asked the same thing. Dan hesitated for he had not much experience with sub-Parisian pimps, not like Matt anyway, and he then said no. The pimp recognized the hesitation in Dan's voice and fed on it. "Come on, just be her friend... Write your email." So Dan, knowing that pimps and prostitutes are not the friendliest of company to be mixed with, wrote a fake email and sent the pimp on his way.
That was enough to scare the pepper spray out of Dan. Dan quickly went through his bag and pulled out his pink hot-topic pepper spray inside a black holster and slipped it onto his belt, allowing a quick release and rapid fire of pepper spray into the train cabin in the advent that the pimp return. We all saw what it was and asked Dan to put it away, fearing that he accidently set off the pepper spray, blind us all, stop the train, get us thrown off the train, and possibly get the police involved because we didn't exactly have tickets to be on that train... Not exactly... But we did at the same time. Long story. Dan complied, put the pepper spray away, and off to Nice we went. What a fun trip. I tell you, it was... The funniest quote of the entire incident is below. I'll just let you read it. Man, I didn't think I had anything to write today. Guess I was wrong. Miss you Dan... And Garrett and Shereen while I'm at it.
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