Ten years ago. Honeymoon in San Diego. Newlyweds staying in a nameless, faceless TraveLodge, directly across the street from another TraveLodge. Wife got sick, decided to stay in and watch soap operas on television. I decided to do something else. Since I didn't have my driver's license yet, I opted to walk to this one record store downtown I had heard about, to inquire about some bootlegs. Somewhere along the way, I am stopped by a disheveled woman with scabby lips. "Do you want a date?" she asks. I politely decline and continue on my way. About an hour later, on my way back, I'm walking back to the motel room. I see a well-dressed elderly man duck out of an alleyway and turn to make his way down the sidewalk in front of me. Shortly thereafter, the woman who had accosted me before ran out of the alley with a smile on her scabrous lips and a twenty-dollar bill in her hand. I tailed the elderly gentleman for at least three or four blocks, wanting so very badly to ask him if he got his money's worth.