Part Three: At the Brothel
Part Two of my trip was in Death Valley, and it was beautiful, but my mom took most of the pictures, and for some reason her computer doesn't want to read my flash drive. So that will have to wait until we get home and I can sort through the photos on my own machine.
For now I will just say that it was during Part Two that I first compared my mother to a puppy dog, jumping on the bed and licking your face and saying, "Get up get up get up get up!!!!!!!!" She didn't actually do the jumping or the licking, but the general feel of it was more or less equivalent. I'm not awful at mornings, generally, but I would also not call myself a 'Morning Person.'
My mother's premature exuberance was immediately forgiven, however, when she suggested that we stay at a brothel in Pahrump, Nevada. Apparently her friends wound up staying there once when all of the other hotels in town were full, and they thought it was an interesting experience.
I was skeptical that a brothel would actually double as a hotel, but she found the place listed online -- under "hotels and motels," with no mention of its other function -- and she called and made a reservation. My mom is awesome.
The hotel was a row of rooms behind the actual brothel and they shared the same office. We were about to check in when we learned the hotel had no wi-fi.
My mom actually hesitated and asked if I wanted to stay somewhere else. I told her I thought we could survive one night without the Internet for the sake of research.
My mother somewhat reluctantly continued with the check-in, but she commented that she was surprised a hotel could stay in business without wi-fi. The woman behind the counter explained that they didn't want the workers communicating with the hotel guests via email and setting up illicit appointments (which would cut the brothel out of its 50%). "It gives us control," she said.
Once we were checked in, I mentioned that I'd been doing some research on the legal history of brothels, and I wondered if the owner was on the premises and if I could maybe ask some questions about some recent legal battles, specifically the battle to overturn Nevada's ban on brothel advertising (most brothels supported the ban, for reasons which are explained in my show). The woman behind the counter told me I would have to contact their corporate office in Las Vegas. "Okay, no problem," I said cheerfully, taking the business card she handed me. "I just figured I should check, as long as I'm here."
I went back to the room and immediately the phone rang. Which seemed a little bit strange, since no one knew I was there, and I wasn't sure if I should answer it. But then I figured what the hell.
It was a manager. She had heard I was doing research and she wanted to talk to me. I went back to the office.
The manager, Gloria, was very friendly. I explained about my show and my research and the specific policy questions I was curious about. Gloria said she wasn't allowed to comment, and I said no problem, I could call the corporate office later; I was on vacation with my mom; I'd just come from Death Valley, etc etc. Gloria talked about her favorite places in Death Valley, we chatted about miscellaneous silliness, she asked me not to interview any of the women in the brothel, I assured her I wouldn't, and I left for the bar.
There was no worry of anyone mistaking me for a working girl; I was in jeans and a T-shirt, while the prostitutes were all in skirts so short you could actually see the bottom edge of their asses.
I have to admit, I felt a bit of shame being there. I mean, I just debuted a show about Nevada brothels, I've been studying the topic for over a year, and this is the first time I've actually been inside of one? Research fail.
I also felt a bit of shock at what I saw: inside the bar, people were smoking. It felt like being in a foreign country.
Other than that, honestly, it was pretty much what I had expected. One or two girls were chatting with each of the guys in the bar while the rest of the women sat at a table with the floor manager and smoked or checked their make-up. Sometimes the guys would finish their drink and leave, and sometimes they'd get up and go off with one of the girls to the office, which meant a transaction had been negotiated. The clothing was skimpier than I had expected, but otherwise, everything I saw was consistent with my research.
One of the brothel women sat down next to me to smoke a cigarette, and I commented on how weird it was to see people smoking indoors. She laughed and said, "Not around here." I asked her if that was true statewide, and she started to tell me that Clark County (where Las Vegas is) had banned smoking in bars...
And then the floor manager came over, hissed "NO QUESTIONS," took the woman I'd been talking to by the arm and led her away.
But the woman was back a few minutes later to finish her cigarette and her sentence about Clark County, so I thought, okay. She told the floor manager I'm not asking personal questions or doing actual interviews, that I'm just hanging out in the bar and making conversation; everything's cool.
My mom joined me in the bar and we moved to a table and had dinner. Apparently the brothel has pretty good food for Pahrump; there were some couples who had clearly come in only for the food, as they paid no attention whatsoever to the prostitutes.
The plan was that after dinner, my mom and I were going to ask for our free tour, which had been advertised on the sign outside: "Ladies Welcome -- Free Tours!" But my mom decided she was tired, so I went up to the bar again while she went back to the room.
The bartender told me the tour was free but tipping was encouraged, which seems fair, since I know the women work entirely on commission and do not make any sort of wage or salary, which means the tour would be entirely free labor. Most of the girls shook their heads and looked irritated by the request, but one woman, a long-haired Latina who spoke only intermediate English, quickly jumped up and volunteered.
She walked me to the main hall where men have the option of requesting a line-up of all of the available prostitutes (most men choose to just mingle in the bar instead) and she had started to explain the "menu" (straight lay, two-girl party, stuff like that) when the floor manager showed up in a huff and told the woman to go back to the bar. "Where is the other one?" she asked, looking around, presumably for my mother.
"It was only her," said the Latina.
"All right. I'll take care of this," said the manager. Once the Latina had left, the manager turned to me and glared. "You were told no tours," she said.
"Um, no. I was told no interviews, and I wasn't doing any interviews. I'm a guest at the hotel; I'm on vacation."
We went to the office where Gloria cleared things up and told the floor manager, "No no, she can have a tour just like any of the other guests."
But at this point, I was too pissed off to deal with any of it. I went back to my room, found out my mother's computer wouldn't read my flash drive, got crabbier, wound up fighting with my mom, and then just went to bed.
So yeah. That kind of sucked. Oh well.
For now I will just say that it was during Part Two that I first compared my mother to a puppy dog, jumping on the bed and licking your face and saying, "Get up get up get up get up!!!!!!!!" She didn't actually do the jumping or the licking, but the general feel of it was more or less equivalent. I'm not awful at mornings, generally, but I would also not call myself a 'Morning Person.'
My mother's premature exuberance was immediately forgiven, however, when she suggested that we stay at a brothel in Pahrump, Nevada. Apparently her friends wound up staying there once when all of the other hotels in town were full, and they thought it was an interesting experience.
I was skeptical that a brothel would actually double as a hotel, but she found the place listed online -- under "hotels and motels," with no mention of its other function -- and she called and made a reservation. My mom is awesome.
The hotel was a row of rooms behind the actual brothel and they shared the same office. We were about to check in when we learned the hotel had no wi-fi.
My mom actually hesitated and asked if I wanted to stay somewhere else. I told her I thought we could survive one night without the Internet for the sake of research.
My mother somewhat reluctantly continued with the check-in, but she commented that she was surprised a hotel could stay in business without wi-fi. The woman behind the counter explained that they didn't want the workers communicating with the hotel guests via email and setting up illicit appointments (which would cut the brothel out of its 50%). "It gives us control," she said.
Once we were checked in, I mentioned that I'd been doing some research on the legal history of brothels, and I wondered if the owner was on the premises and if I could maybe ask some questions about some recent legal battles, specifically the battle to overturn Nevada's ban on brothel advertising (most brothels supported the ban, for reasons which are explained in my show). The woman behind the counter told me I would have to contact their corporate office in Las Vegas. "Okay, no problem," I said cheerfully, taking the business card she handed me. "I just figured I should check, as long as I'm here."
I went back to the room and immediately the phone rang. Which seemed a little bit strange, since no one knew I was there, and I wasn't sure if I should answer it. But then I figured what the hell.
It was a manager. She had heard I was doing research and she wanted to talk to me. I went back to the office.
The manager, Gloria, was very friendly. I explained about my show and my research and the specific policy questions I was curious about. Gloria said she wasn't allowed to comment, and I said no problem, I could call the corporate office later; I was on vacation with my mom; I'd just come from Death Valley, etc etc. Gloria talked about her favorite places in Death Valley, we chatted about miscellaneous silliness, she asked me not to interview any of the women in the brothel, I assured her I wouldn't, and I left for the bar.
There was no worry of anyone mistaking me for a working girl; I was in jeans and a T-shirt, while the prostitutes were all in skirts so short you could actually see the bottom edge of their asses.
I have to admit, I felt a bit of shame being there. I mean, I just debuted a show about Nevada brothels, I've been studying the topic for over a year, and this is the first time I've actually been inside of one? Research fail.
I also felt a bit of shock at what I saw: inside the bar, people were smoking. It felt like being in a foreign country.
Other than that, honestly, it was pretty much what I had expected. One or two girls were chatting with each of the guys in the bar while the rest of the women sat at a table with the floor manager and smoked or checked their make-up. Sometimes the guys would finish their drink and leave, and sometimes they'd get up and go off with one of the girls to the office, which meant a transaction had been negotiated. The clothing was skimpier than I had expected, but otherwise, everything I saw was consistent with my research.
One of the brothel women sat down next to me to smoke a cigarette, and I commented on how weird it was to see people smoking indoors. She laughed and said, "Not around here." I asked her if that was true statewide, and she started to tell me that Clark County (where Las Vegas is) had banned smoking in bars...
And then the floor manager came over, hissed "NO QUESTIONS," took the woman I'd been talking to by the arm and led her away.
But the woman was back a few minutes later to finish her cigarette and her sentence about Clark County, so I thought, okay. She told the floor manager I'm not asking personal questions or doing actual interviews, that I'm just hanging out in the bar and making conversation; everything's cool.
My mom joined me in the bar and we moved to a table and had dinner. Apparently the brothel has pretty good food for Pahrump; there were some couples who had clearly come in only for the food, as they paid no attention whatsoever to the prostitutes.
The plan was that after dinner, my mom and I were going to ask for our free tour, which had been advertised on the sign outside: "Ladies Welcome -- Free Tours!" But my mom decided she was tired, so I went up to the bar again while she went back to the room.
The bartender told me the tour was free but tipping was encouraged, which seems fair, since I know the women work entirely on commission and do not make any sort of wage or salary, which means the tour would be entirely free labor. Most of the girls shook their heads and looked irritated by the request, but one woman, a long-haired Latina who spoke only intermediate English, quickly jumped up and volunteered.
She walked me to the main hall where men have the option of requesting a line-up of all of the available prostitutes (most men choose to just mingle in the bar instead) and she had started to explain the "menu" (straight lay, two-girl party, stuff like that) when the floor manager showed up in a huff and told the woman to go back to the bar. "Where is the other one?" she asked, looking around, presumably for my mother.
"It was only her," said the Latina.
"All right. I'll take care of this," said the manager. Once the Latina had left, the manager turned to me and glared. "You were told no tours," she said.
"Um, no. I was told no interviews, and I wasn't doing any interviews. I'm a guest at the hotel; I'm on vacation."
We went to the office where Gloria cleared things up and told the floor manager, "No no, she can have a tour just like any of the other guests."
But at this point, I was too pissed off to deal with any of it. I went back to my room, found out my mother's computer wouldn't read my flash drive, got crabbier, wound up fighting with my mom, and then just went to bed.
So yeah. That kind of sucked. Oh well.