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Where do the hookers hang out in your city? (pg. 7)
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| Provocative_boi |
| quote: | Originally posted by Jeff Button
LOL
I get my morning coffee from there on my way to work, when I am coming from my gf's house. I'd say 20% of the time I get offered a blow job for $10, and this is at 7:45 in the morning typically.
Best deal I was ever offered was a handjob for a coffee and donut.... unfortunately, i was late for work and couldn't cash in on the offer. |
I dunno why we dont have these kind of deals here in sauga :(
Never knew that your $10 bucks go this far hahahahahah. |
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| English Rachel |
| quote: | Originally posted by *~LiSa-LoO~*
I'll let you know, I start Friday;. |
Get off my patch, bitch. |
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| rabbitjoker |
Community centre, hold the fries
BY JANE NGAN (Now Magazine - September 4, 2003)
In his book on Toronto prostitution, The Stroll: Inner-city Subcultures (NP Press, 1986), John Davidson writes, "for a red light district to flourish, it must be located near three things: late-night restaurants, bars, and rooming houses or hotels." The intersection of Jarvis and Gerrard has them all. There's The Fuel Station, a run-down bar on the southeast corner with traditionally sticky floors, sticky tables and sticky chairs (now temporarily closed for renovations and under new management) and The Inglewood Arms, a cheap hotel at 295 Jarvis (according to Mike the manager, hookers don't hang out there). And, most centrally, there's Harvey's at 278 Jarvis, a franchise of Cara Foods' fast-food empire that serves onion rings and fries (and pretty good veggie burgers) to college kids, office workers, homeless people and pros.
It's a mostly unremarkable place: a faded brown metal box with orange fluorescent lights that sometimes flicker unsteadily, opposite a menacing-looking church frequented by menacing-looking men. At this intersection of the holy and the unholy, what's become widely known as Hooker Harvey's has turned into an unofficial community centre, where many gather for food, comfort and shelter from the streets.
Some of the community centre aspect of the place may be explained by Cara's own admirable corporate philosophy, as expressed by Communications Manager Rachel Douglas. When asked about the homeless people and the prostitutes who hang out in the area, after stating that they were not a problem, she went further and said, "We honour and treat all our customers and we don't put them in categories." She declined comment on whether prostitutes hang out at this location.
Over the years, as chains have slowly pushed the independent business into ever more boutiquey territory, often the only place the very young, the very old or the very poor can afford are places like Tim Hortons, McDonald's and Harvey's. All over the city, these otherwise generic joints have become default gathering places -- inexpensive, inoffensive and, with luck, hospitable places to sit and talk and plan and, often as an afterthought, eat or drink.
At lunchtime, it's like any other fast-food restaurant. Lineups proliferate and conversations drown out Shania Twain playing over the sound system. Secretaries in pin-stripes from the nearby Sears head office and teenagers in baggy jeans from Ryerson chat excitedly under the mildewed air vents. As the traffic dies down in the afternoon, homeless men in army fatigues wander in to sit and stare at the passing cars, scribble on crumpled flyers or sing along with Shania, sometimes over a cup of coffee or the $1.70 ValuBurger if they have the cash. At night in the summer, barely dressed women in vinyl miniskirts and knee-high boots gather outside the doors or sashay down the sidewalk out front. Traffic slows as people ogle.
At the turn of the century, when Jarvis was what one historian called Toronto's Champs Élysées, people ogled different things. Jarvis was a narrow road shaded by blossoming elms and chestnuts, where horse-drawn carriages from stately Victorian mansions carried the rich and powerful -- a shipping magnate, the Chief Justice of Ontario, the leader of the Liberal party, the Masseys. Ladies in tight bodices and flowing skirts strolled along the shaded sidewalks while the men congregated on the lacrosse grounds.
You can still see the ghosts of that lavish era in the buildings around Hooker Harvey's, but the glitz and excess moved uptown. The houses were either boarded up or sold to public interests such as art galleries or charitable organizations like the Salvation Army. The street-widening projects after World War II and the Dutch elm disease of the late '50s depleted the area of its greenery. Two notably unsuccessful experiments in public housing had sprung up nearby. To the north, St. James Town, once marketed to middle-income bachelors, slipped into crime-plagued low-income housing when the affluent wouldn't come. To the south, Regent Park rose out of the city's worst slums in the '40s to become Canada's first housing project. Despite initial optimism for the area, Regent Park is still home to about 12,000 of the city's poorest residents. By the time Harvey's opened its doors in 1968 -- the same year the Christian Community Centre (now part of the Yonge Street Mission) did down the street at 270 Gerrard St. E. -- all the lustre of the glory days was gone.
The death of Regent Park resident Emanuel Jaques, brought the neighbourhood, along with its poverty and crime, to the forefront in 1977. The death of Jaques, a 12-year-old shoeshine boy who was raped and murdered after being taken into a Yonge Street body-rub parlour, led to a massive "cleanup" and closing of brothels on the street. After the crackdown, more prostitutes took their business outdoors to the surrounding area. Toronto's Champs Élysées had become the downtown sin strip. And Harvey's got its prefix.
This particular community locus opened with a counter and 11 seats -- it was one of the first Harvey's to have seating. A large box of fries cost about a quarter then. Today it's $2.13. The counter was removed and a dining area with 60 seats was added in 1980. But not much else has changed. The restaurant hasn't gone through many major renovations, but no one goes there for its ambience. With salmon-coloured seats and blue cushioning that digs into your back, washroom doors that never close and a ceiling spotted with oil and water stains, this isn't a place to get warm and fuzzy about. But fistfights that drift in from the streets, drunk patrons who come in to yell and complain -- and the occasional robbery -- all make the restaurant a happening sort of place.
It's also a safe place to be, particularly when you have nowhere else to go. Some of the homeless linger for hours; prostitutes come in during breaks from work. Most are left alone by the staff even if they don't buy food. Some nights, a man with vacant eyes and knotted hair walks in, wearing a suit and runners with no laces. He sits in the corner, looking out the window. On the outside, a blaring cop car speeds by under the gap-toothed glow of the restaurant's big orange sign. |
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| lopi |
| quote: | Originally posted by RobSt*r
You are BANG on with the exception of the old sporting venue. In K-town, all of the above are correct where our beloved hookers like to linger. ;)
You may be onto something Shann-ster :) |
Theres a sports bar there Rob! Right across the street from the 91.5 the beat building! and across the street diagonally from the harveys!
There's a couple of old biker bars at King and Charles.
Geez! You would think you would be more observant about the stuff around your favourite hang out RobStar. |
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| Zeidoo |
| quote: | | Where do the hookers hang out in your city? |
My apartment. Among with the pimps, pushers and thugs.
It's just like any other job... after your shift, you're a normal person again :) |
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| Time2Burn |
| quote: | Originally posted by Zeidoo
It's just like any other job... after your shift, you're a normal person again :) |
SO do you talk about your day at work with them?
Z: Today I stuffed 500 envelopes and sent out the mail to clients.
Hoe: Today I got stuffed by 500 males that enveloped my dirty snatch.
Z: :( I wish I had your job. Lets watch 24 like normal people. |
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| Zeidoo |
| quote: | Originally posted by Time2Burn
SO do you talk about your day at work with them?
Z: Today I stuffed 500 envelopes and sent out the mail to clients.
Hoe: Today I got stuffed by 500 males that enveloped my dirty snatch.
Z: :( I wish I had your job. Lets watch 24 like normal people. |
Partly true. We just don't watch TV, we read poetry and talk about philosophy.
Maybe we're different after all. |
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| rabbitjoker |
| quote: | Originally posted by Zeidoo
It's just like any other job... after your shift, you're a normal person again |
"The everyday life of prostitution is distant from most of us. And here, our imagination is a poor assistant. Negotiate a price with a stranger. Agree. Pull down one pant leg. Come and take me. Finished. Next, please. It becomes too ugly to really take it in. The imagination screeches to a halt."
- Cecilie Hoigard and Liv Finstad, Backstreets: Prostitution, Money, and Love, 1992, translated by Katherine Hanson, Nancy Sipe, and Barbara Wilson; first published as Bakgater in Norway, 1986, Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, Pennsylvania
"Describing the trauma of prostitution, and its consequences, one fourteen year old stated: 'You feel like a piece of hamburger meat – all chopped up and barely holding together'"
- D. Kelly Weisberg, 1985, Children of the Night, Lexington Books, Toronto. |
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| shanny |
| quote: | Originally posted by rabbitjoker
Community centre, hold the fries
BY JANE NGAN (Now Magazine - September 4, 2003)
In his book on Toronto prostitution, The Stroll: Inner-city Subcultures (NP Press, 1986), John Davidson writes, "for a red light district to flourish, it must be located near three things: late-night restaurants, bars, and rooming houses or hotels." |
Now we're getting somewhere.
I'm happy that all you sluts (read Larisa, Andrea and Lisa) are enjoying yourselves polluting this quest for knowledge with your trivial hoe stories and pimp discussions, but if we could all get back on track maybe we could figure out this great mystery. |
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| Zeidoo |
| quote: | Originally posted by rabbitjoker
"The everyday life of prostitution is distant from most of us. And here, our imagination is a poor assistant. Negotiate a price with a stranger. Agree. Pull down one pant leg. Come and take me. Finished. Next, please. It becomes too ugly to really take it in. The imagination screeches to a halt."
- Cecilie Hoigard and Liv Finstad, Backstreets: Prostitution, Money, and Love, 1992, translated by Katherine Hanson, Nancy Sipe, and Barbara Wilson; first published as Bakgater in Norway, 1986, Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, Pennsylvania
"Describing the trauma of prostitution, and its consequences, one fourteen year old stated: 'You feel like a piece of hamburger meat – all chopped up and barely holding together'"
- D. Kelly Weisberg, 1985, Children of the Night, Lexington Books, Toronto. |
And? Is it a reason to cast them away? Once a whore always a whore?
True it might not be the best job, but IMHO it's not a reason consider them as anything else as normal persons. |
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| *~LiSa-LoO~* |
| quote: | Originally posted by shanny
Now we're getting somewhere.
I'm happy that all you sluts (read Larisa, Andrea and Lisa) are enjoying yourselves polluting this quest for knowledge with your trivial hoe stories and pimp discussions, but if we could all get back on track maybe we could figure out this great mystery. |
:( |
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| me@t k@tie |
| quote: | Originally posted by Jeff Button
LOL
I get my morning coffee from there on my way to work, when I am coming from my gf's house. I'd say 20% of the time I get offered a blow job for $10, and this is at 7:45 in the morning typically.
Best deal I was ever offered was a handjob for a coffee and donut.... unfortunately, i was late for work and couldn't cash in on the offer. |
I have been approached by a hooker in there before. As soon as she started walking towards me, saying, "Hey hunnyyyyyyy!!!....." I quickly turned around and walked out.
I also get creeped out when I am trying to go for a nice walk, and there is a gang of them sitting by the dumpster outside the Coffee Time waiting for their prey.
"Want cream in your coffee? I want your cream in my mouth. Ten bucks!"
EW EW EW EW. |
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