The story of my life as seen through me. (Part three)

My bus let me out in a part of town that I would call home for the rest of my life, Midtown Kansas City. This was a place of many wonders; hookers, pimps, drugs dealers, musicians, the Plaza, Westport. But I digress, so let me describe my new world for a moment if I may. I moved into a group of apartments located at forty-fifth & Main. Just a few doors down sat the Submarine and its sister bar, the Sub’s Pub. Across the street from my front door stood the Hilton Hotel which held the Tiki Bar, and if you travel up the street a block or so, there stood the Dover Fox, which was for men only I was told. Across from there at forty-third and Main stood another bar, and if you traveled a short distance more you ran into the Adult Emporium, which was the city’s largest adult bookstore, I guess that they sold only hard to read books and such. And if a young feller had a car, with a five minute drive he was in reach of the Pink Garter on Main, it’s sister bar on Broadway, Jerry’s Silver Slipper, where for no cover charge you could watch a comic and a bunch of men in dresses sing and dance. Westport was nothing more then a few bars and a lot of head shops, and the Plaza was well, the Plaza.

I was so happy in my new home, every Sunday after church I’d write my mother back home and tell her about the new friends I had met and the wonders I’d seen. Who knew that hooker’s were such friendly people? Why it was nothing to be driving up Main Street and have four or five run up to the car and ask me out on a date. But being the shy withdrawn young man that I was, I would thank em all kindly and drive away wishing I had the gumption to take one of em out. Cause they seemed like such nice girls and such. The day that changed my life was a bright and sunny day in July when I stumbled into the Sub’s Pub on Main. I had just seen Star Wars a year earlier and as I stood in the doorway of the bar all I could think of was the cantina scene from the movie. Cause in front of me milling around were people that I’d never seen before in my young life. There were patchouli wearin hippies talking politics with men in business suits, off in the corner were two men kissing and feeling each other up. Standing at the bar were four or five bikers who were watching two girls arm wrestle. For a young man new to big city ways, I felt like I was in a daze until clear as a bell this voice rung out. “Hi, can I get you something”? So I walked up to the bar and was soon in possession of my first drink which turned out to be something called an amoretto sour.
(to be continued)