Pimp My Ride...

"I didn't even know there were pimps in Fargo."

This was my dad's response to my telling him the story of the pimp. The pimp in Fargo, that is. My dad was not new to the pimpin' world. In Vegas he had one show up at his business one fine afternoon, complete with two 'bitches' in tow.

But a pimp in Fargo, North Dakota was something different altogether. Especially when that pimp was talking to me.

In November of 2007 I embarked on a trip to Churchill, Manitoba. I wanted to see the polar bears, so I planned, organized and executed the trip sans travel agent. In the end, my hard work resulted in a trip of a lifetime at about half the price of a guided tour.

My journey both to and from Churchill involved all aspects of the transportation world. I would fly to Winnipeg, take the train to Churchill and back, then ride the bus from Winnipeg to Texas. Yup...the bus.

Friends tried hard to change my mind. I was told horror stories of taking such transportation---the weird people, the exorbitant amount of time---but I wouldn't be dissuaded. I, for whatever reason, had to experience it for myself. I had to learn, firsthand, just how horrible it was.

So I did.

The trip from Winnipeg to Fargo was actually quite pleasant. The bus was predominantly empty, allowing for my use of two seats. I could sprawl out and enjoy my space. A family of what looked to be Menonites sat across the aisle from me and, although no words were spoken, our friendly glances and kind nods confirmed our respect for one another.

People are crazy, I thought to myself. The bus is cheap and basically empty. What's so bad about this???

I guess I should have never asked. The Fargo station was packed full of people, all waiting for a bus that would seemingly never show. Weather, I assume, left schedules off kilter and all of us suffering for it. I suddenly realized what it was really like to depend on the bus.

It sucked.

So when the pimp, who claimed he wasn't a pimp, decided to strike up a conversation amongst all of this horror...what could I do but just smile and nod?

"People call me a pimp, but I ain't no pimp. I manage these girls...they're in the entertainment industry, you know, they're a dance team. I take care of my girls, they take care of me. When they need something, they get it. When I need something they provide me with it. But I ain't no pimp, you know. I ain't no pimp."

But the craziness didn't end there...

"You know, you could do well in this industry. You could join the dance team, make lots of money..."

Yes, there was a PIMP trying to RECRUIT me at a BUS STATION in FARGO!

HUH?!?!?

The one-sided conversation continued on for what seemed like forever, detailing the pimp's life in Denver, his huge income (even though he was riding a bus...?) and his 'daughter's' 'business'.

It was this conversation, coupled with the sight of the pimp's 'daughter' sitting on his lap, that threw me over the edge. I got up and went for a walk, realizing quickly that I was wandering around a strange town complete with a pimp who had his eye on me. Common sense told me to stay close to the bus station and within view of lots of people. Just in case. I didn't feel like becoming anyone's 'ho' that day.

"Don't listen to anything he says," exclaimed an innocent bystander to the whole conversation that had ensued. "You don't want to get into that lifestyle. I hope you don't think he's telling you the truth. He's a pimp."

At least I had one witness.

And thankfully someone other than the pimp sat next to me from Fargo to Sioux Falls where, luckily, I got off and spent a few nights with a friend. I swear the pimp was still watching me as the bus pulled out of that station, into the Sioux Falls night...