In 1991, I was 14 years old and I worked in a ‘Mom n’ Pop’ corner video store.
And like most pre-Blockbuster era video stores, there was a little room in the back. Mine had saloon doors, I remember others having curtains. In that little room were PORNO TAPES.
Four walls, ceiling to floor, papered with VHS covers of bare naked women and bare naked men.
There was a guy in a wheelchair (not a motorized wheelchair, just a do it yourself-er) who would come in on Monday and Thursday nights and go into that room.
I had to open the saloon doors for him.
He would sit in there (in his wheelchair) for about 25 minutes. When he was done, he’d call me and I’d open the doors for him, and then leave.
He never rented.
What was originally a cool job for a young teenage movie nerd, turned into this savagely human occupation of ‘jerk off chauffeur’.
And I can’t blame him, really. It was a free porn booth, his fortress of pornotude.
And it meant a lot to him, I mean, this guy would wheel himself in, on nights that were -30F, through two feet of snow.
And there I would be, 14 year old me in my leather medallion necklace with Africa on it. I’d be thinking,
“God, I can’t say no! He just self propelled himself through snow and wind to jerk off in a video store. I’d be a horrible person if I turned him away!” And so, I’d find myself standing outside a closet that inhabited (for 25 minutes) a masturbating dude in a wheelchair, twice a week, for 3 years.
And that, dear readers, is the story of a man and a girl.
Two people who would have been more grateful for internet porn than-anyone-else-in-the-world if it had been available in 1991.
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Image (not of the actual store in question): Eric Parker/Flickr