Instagram Babe Of The Day: Kim From University Of South Florida

Dan Regester9 years ago

LouFerrigno

A long time ago I said I’d post the story of when I found a hooker in my minivan in response to this shitty CatlinaCoke article (https://totalfratmove.wpengine.com/the-night-a-naked-girl-wandered-into-our-apartment/) where I first brought this up. It may not be completely frat related, but it’s a fucking weird story.

To give some background, I come from a smallish town without much to do besides heroin and frisbee golf. Few people go to college, and even less join Greek life. It was the summer before college, and I was doing what every 18 year old kid does in my town. Find someone 21 or older buy me booze, get drunk and go to the casino located on our native reservation. 5 or 6 shots deep, flask hidden in the pockets of my cargo shorts (Which I didn’t realize I should ditch till I got to college) I played some slots, drank my flask and eventually got some buddies to buy me more drinks. Loaded with liquid courage and high school stupidity I ended up losing most of my money at the blackjack table.

A few hours and a lot of graduation money later, we left the casino and my friends dropped me back off at my house at around 1:30 in the morning. At the time I was driving an old beat up blue minivan, and in order to get into the house I needed to get into the van and use the garage door opener in the front seat. To my surprise, the door was already unlocked. I drunkenly fished around in the dark looking for the garage opener before I realized something was off. The glove box was open, insurance paperwork and chipotle napkins littered the passenger seat, the change drawer was ejected yet no money was taken out. I immediately wondered if someone had broken into my van while I was gone.

I leaned further into the front seat, and turned on my phone light to see if anything had gone missing. I had to squint to see in the dim light my phone provided as I scanned the van from left to right, then suddenly I saw her and my heart stopped.

Sitting in the 3rd row of my van was a pale white blond woman, wearing a skimpy sundress and long boots. She was deathly pale, with frizzled hair and sunken brown eyes. Staring at me in the dark, she hadn’t made a sound until I spotted her.

I lost my fucking shit.

If this had been a horror movie, I would have died like the token black dude. My response to seeing this strange woman lurking in the back of my van was to yell at the top of my lungs, “Fuck! There’s a fucking person in my van!!” As if this wasn’t plainly obvious to the both of us

She immediately lurched forward, trembling and begged me to be quiet. She launched into a tirade, apologizing for hiding in my van, claiming she was on the run from some psychopath down the street. She blurted out an address for the guy, claiming she was visitng him and he had gone psycho on her. She kept stressing he had a wife and kids, and begged me not to call the cops.

I instantly felt sober once my near heart attack had subsided. She was clearly on drugs, but the address lended some credibility to her story. I pressed her further, demanding to see her purse to check if anything was stolen. She had taken nothing from my car, but her small purse was filled with wads of cash, Kleenexes, salt & paper shakers, and Christmas ornaments. In August.

She began asking for directions to the nearest Walmart, claiming she had ‘a friend’ waiting for her there when I began putting the pieces together. She was a prostitute. Her Walmart friend was her pimp, who had dropped her off at this guys house, things went south and she had fled, finding her way into my unlocked van.

Not wanting to get an underage drinking ticket, I let her go free after giving her directions to get back to the Walmart. Nothing had been stolen, no harm no foul.

The next morning, I told my dad what had happened, and we went to the address she had given me to investigate. Nobody answered the door, and a sketchy beat up car sat in the driveway. We peered inside the window, and the interior was littered with empty Milwaukee’s best cans. At least a 30 rack worth. The mystery continued, and rumors quickly began circulating around the neighborhood. The neighborhood moms gossiped about who the blond woman could have been, some even said it was the woman who lived at the house.

The days went by, and the whole ordeal was pushed to the back of my mind. I hadn’t seen the green car since the day after the prostitute appeared in my driveway. I was driving to work, when I saw a blond woman in the front yard of the house of the apparent psycho playing with two kids both blond as well. I stopped to get a closer look, could she have been the woman in my backseat?

It wasn’t her.

I’m not sure why, but I decided to get out and talk with her. I asked if it was her home, she said it was and asked why.

“Well ma’am, it’s a funny story. Got a minute to talk, preferably not in front of your kids?”

She invited me inside, and I started from the beginning. I told her about the woman in my van, how she had given an address, the psycho she said she was hiding from…To my surprise, none of this seemed to shock her.

“I think you’ll need to speak with my lawyer.” She said firmly

I looked at her confused, and she clarified. “My lawyer handling the custody case of my children.”

She filled in all the blanks from there. She was in a long, drawn out custody battle with her abusive, alcoholic husband who had been kicked out of the house long ago. The week where this had all taken place, she was out of town with her children in disney world, and there had been sightings of her husband driving around the neighborhood in the beat up green car, and breaking into her home. At some point, after breaking in, he had gotten drunk and hired a prostitute. What he did to scare her off like he did, I’ll never know. It was a slam dunk for her lawyer, who explained the whole story to and gave a signed statement.

She won the custody battle, and I came away with strangest story of my damn life.

9 years ago at 9:25 am