Country Boy in the City

I'm from Montana, and although I've spent a lot of time in New York and London, I wasn't ready for Baltimore. Most cities these days have a Green Zone, like Iraq, where country boys can wander freely without getting into too much trouble. Such is not Baltimore. In Baltimore, you can be downtown and cross from the swanky harbor to the ghetto before realizing the you crossed the street.

I'm in Baltimore with my dad while he gets treatment at John Hopkins. We pulled into our hotel around 10pm and after settling into our room, my dad asked if I could make a run to the store for him: he'd forgotten a couple of things at home. On his list of things were 1) Gatorade (because he gets dehydrated) and 2) Vaseline (because his skin is dry from radiation treatment). We're staying on old Charles Street in Baltimore, which is the equivalent of Park Avenue down here. I exit the hotel for my quest around 11pm; I figure I'll find an all night convenient store. I wonder around for a few blocks, and don't see anything open, but 4 blocks down Baltimore street I can see some neon lights and figure there will be something open.

4 blocks later, I'm being offered crack, cocaine and sex from everyone on the street. The bright neon lights I saw were for sex shops and strip joints, and the bouncer's at the door promised me free services of all kinds if I would go inside. I just wanted some goods for my dad, so I went up to the nicest looking crack dealer, and asked me if there was a convenient store. After declining his sack of rocks, he tells me that there's a 7/11 one block down. Perfect.

It's only at this point that I realize my predicament. I'm in the sleazy sex district of Baltimore, looking for vaseline.

I walk into the 7/11, which has homeless people milling about, enjoying the air conditioning. I grab the Gatorade and look around for some vaseline. I can't find it, but see the other drugs behind the counter, so I go up to ask the man at the cash register.

Country Boy: "Excuse me, do you have any Vaseline."
Register Man: "Hey Hey, you mean like some Peroleum Jelly?"
Country Boy: "Yeah"
Register Man: "Oooh, I like the way you work brother. Ooh yeah, Gotta work that. Ah sorry brother, we're all out."
Country Boy: "Do you know where I might get some, I sort of need it tonight."
Register Man: "Oh yeah, you dirty boy. Ha. Yeah. Sometime you just got a need."
Counry Boy: "It's not like that, I just need it for some cracked skin."
Register Man: "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, a little 'cracked skin', hell yeah, give me some of that."
Country Boy: "Sure, Ok, is there a shop around the corner where I might get some?"
Register Man: "Yeah, try the sex shop up the street."

I eventually got the Vaseline and managed not to buy in Meth.

I learned a valuable lesson though: don't go looking for vaseline in ghetto sex districts.