Minibar Madness: A Wild Night of Thievery in New York, 1993

Back in 1993, I had quite the experience that I shared on the Steve & Vikki morning show in Atlanta a many years ago. Over the years, I have told abbreviated versions of the story and I've been asked to elaborate on it, so here it goes. As I've mentioned before, I was a hustler in New York when I was 16. Toward the end of my time being a big ol' ho and homeless, I found that the easiest marks, aka "Johns," were the out-of-towners.

I was wearing something that looked like this, in January

One night, I noticed a sad, alcohol-ridden couple partying it up among themselves at the Ninth Circle on a slow night. They ended up gravitating towards me—well, the woman did, really. She started talking to me for her friend, her breath reeking of Frangelico. She then asked what I thought of her friend. I said something like, "His shoes are small and don't match his outfit," which she apparently thought was the most hilarious thing ever said. Next thing I knew, her tongue was in the back of my throat. LADY, BACK OFF! I ONLY ALLOW DICKS THERE!!! Apparently, this warranted her friend to troll over and feel me up. Then she asked the question, "Are you a hooker?" and I replied, "Me? Why would you think that?"

Perfect casting if my story were made into a movie

Next thing I remember is my friend Sunny Oz yelling across the bar, "Have fun with the breeders," as we made our way up the stairs and outside into a cab. What the bloody hell have I done? I am in a cab heading to a hotel in the financial district, sandwiched between the two oddest people I could ever have met in a gay bar. I had visions of blowing the Iron Sheikh driving the cab to get out of this mess.

We ended up at the Marriott Hotel in the financial district and into the elevator we all went. When the doors closed, the elevator went up and stopped. She got off and screamed, "Have fun!" He and I went up another floor and into his room. He passed out almost instantly. I was bored and hated the Marriott TV channels. I looked around and saw the minibar. It's like a vending machine—you pull, it dispenses, and apparently charges the room. I found this out by flipping channels to the room info screen on the TV and seeing $375 in charges to the minibar after I'd filled my backpack with random crap like candy, nuts, and airplane-sized liquor bottles.

A few hours later, I showered before he got up. Once he was up, with a hangover from hell and ready for his shower, I told him I needed to get home before my parents realized I didn't come home. I loved the fact that he didn't know I was homeless and could use the "I'm in high school" approach to get out of there quickly. He said he thought I was at least 21 up to this point and offered me "hush" money. Who knew being underage could be so lucrative? I hit the door ASAP without the contents of my bag clinking together and power-walked out of the hotel and down the street to the train uptown to hang out and blend in with the rest of the city.

I often wondered if he disputed the charges and how he explained it all. There was a little more to this story, though it will be in the final draft of my book. Anyway...Good times for sure, but definitely not for someone over the age of 18.

I hope you enjoyed this wild tale from my past. Do you have any crazy or memorable experiences you'd like to share? I’d love to hear about them in the comments. Your stories make this journey all the more special. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support my storytelling journey, any small token of appreciation is always welcome. Let’s keep the joy of sharing memories and stories alive together!