Why do I meet such interesting people?

I know it's incredibly hard to believe, but I've never taken any type of creative writing course. However, I have been in this world for a little while and I've learned a few things. One of which is this sacred rule that I think that all storytellers would agree with: Sex sells. So without any further ado, here is the story of how I spent an evening with a porn star.

Some friends of mine and I were hanging out in one of those chic, New York City nightclubs. I don't even remember which one it was. Let's just say Spa. As if it really matters. I mean they're all the same. But I'll save that for another blog.

So we're hanging out in Spa. We managed to get in because we got there RIDICULOUSLY early. Something like 8pm. Which is crazy for clubbing. But the bouncers aren't nearly as obnoxious if you show up early. Just a little tip for the youngsters out there still playing the game.

Then, around 10 or 11ish, something very weird happens. The club stops the music, turns on all the lights, and the cops raid the place. But it's probably the friendliest raid that I had ever seen. They're not kicking anybody out. They're just hanging around. They're not letting anyone in and the biggest tragedy of all is that they've stopped serving drinks.

We asked a few questions and we didn't get any real answers. Something about underage drinking maybe? Who knows. The point was, they weren't closing the club, but they also weren't serving again for another hour or two.

So I said to my people let's head down the street to Bar 13 because a friend of mine was the owner. After a little discussion we decided to do just that. Here's where things get a little more interesting. Outside a huge line had formed. As we're walking out, this incredibly beautiful woman walks up to us asks us what was going on inside.

Now here's the thing. When I say beautiful, it was the type of beautiful that could only be achieved with a lot of, "help." I'm talking a lot. Ridiculously blond, heavy makeup, and a very expensive boob job. Clearly she was from L.A.

We told her what was going on and she said, "Well do you know of any other places around here?" "Well, as a matter of fact," I said, "we're on our way to a friend's place down the street? If you'd like, you can join us." Please note: the words of the previous statement are accurate but they were not delivered in any, "smooth" manner whatsoever. It was very timid and uncool rap I was laying down. However, I will have to admit that I was the only one in the group with the balls to say them. So good for me. Regardless of how I said the words, she agreed to join us.

Next came the part where we're all thinking the same thing but really didn't know how to say it. And we certainly didn't want just come out and ask. I mean how exactly do you ask someone if they're a porn star. You just can't win in that scenario. So I proceeded to ask a series of more general questions in order to suss out her background. I started with her name. In a nasally voice she said, "Brittany." In my mind I simply said to myself, "Of course it is. What else would it be." I asked her where she from from. "Los Angeles." (2 for 2. Getting a little warmer) "Are you a civilian or an actor?" I asked. "Neither," she said. (The cat and mouse game continued) "Sooooooooooooo, what do you do for a living?," I proceeded. "I own an Internet company," she replied. (Oh she was a sly one.) I chose to leave it at that.

Yet another thing that I've learned in this process that is life is that cliffhangers are far more interesting to write than they are to read. At least as far as this blog is concerned. And since this story is going to take way too long for one sitting, I will end this session with my new favorite words.

To be continued