July 11, 1998. San Francisco, CA
joel and i were in north beach to meet a japanese band that we’d been hired to photograph.
it was their first time playing in the united states. the manager wanted some “rock and roll
lifestyle” shots, so we told them to meet us in front of the lusty lady.
the band was running late so we decided to go in and see the peep show.
it was my first time.
the booth was small and cramped. we had our camera bags, which made it worse. we put
some quarters in and a panel slid up revealing a window to a room where several women
in g-strings were dancing distractedly.
it was mid-afternoon, most of the booths were empty. if there was someone in a booth
across from you you could see into it, which was creepy.
one of the dancers started walking toward our booth. she had a very serious expression,
which i thought was odd. she got right up to our window, looked at joel, then at me,
and said sternly: “you can’t both be in there – you need to get your own booth”.
it was awkward being scolded by a strange, mostly-naked woman. some guys might be
into that sort of thing. not me.
we both left the booth and went outside to wait for the band.