Ouch!

or

How The Sex Trade Got Me Running

I was in Vegas a couple weeks ago for the annual National Association of Broadcasters show. One afternoon we had a meeting with a vendor at the Hard Rock Hotel. After the meeting, as we were walking around to the front of the hotel to catch a cab, we were hailed by a young woman who appeared to be in some distress:

Woman: Can I borrow your cell phone to make a call? I need to call my girlfriend and my phone is dead.
Me: (thinking, okay, could be true) What's the number?
Woman: 702-xxx-xxxxx
Me: (dialing) Here you go.
Woman: (on phone) Hi. Mmm Hmm. (hangs up, hands me back phone) So, where are *you* from...

Which eventually led to her asking if I wanted her number for a little extracurricular fun. No thanks, I said as I turned and left, chuckling a bit to myself. I caught up with my group, who were all busy laughing at/with me. Oh well, it was funny. So much for chivalry.

Anyway, that evening I told Katy about it. She laughed and said what was quite possibly the meanest thing I've ever heard:

"Well, I guess you look like a middle-aged conventioneer."

OUCH! I mean, really!

Talk about your motivation. I'll be tying on the running shoes a bit more regularly after that, thankyouverymuch.