Only in my family would the words "hookers" and "vacation" be combined into something you reminisce about.
In 1976 we took a family vacation by car and one of the stops was Washington D.C.. After a full day of sightseeing in both Washington and Virginia, we checked in to our hotel and my mother -- always being prepared -- got out the AAA Guide Book for the city to find a place for dinner. We of course also had a AAA Triptik prepared for the trip and a full complement of paper maps, which my father could fold correctly.
A restaurant was found that seemed nice enough but not too fancy, given I was 14, and not into fine dining. If I remember correctly it was called the Steak Joint and turned out to be one of those stand in line, place your order, then wait for them to call your number type of steak places that were so popular in the '70s.
We didn't take any of our multitude of maps along because my father had been in the military in the early '50s and was stationed for a short time in Washington, so he assured us he knew the area and where we needed to go.
It didn't take long after we left our hotel in the Capitol Hill area that we were in a less than desirable area of Washington, which back in the '70s meant one block off any major thoroughfare dominated by government buildings.
We came to the intersection where the restaurant was located and realized we had passed the pay parking lot that was most convenient to the restaurant. We of course circled the block in our metallic blue 1973 Pontiac Grand Prix with a white vinyl top. It turns out going down one of the streets previously, we had passed a group of streetwalkers (hookers) hanging out. I don't know if we noticed them but they must have been watching us and when the car came around the block again, this time much slower so we didn't miss our turn, they started running after us.
They thought we were "Cruising Them" and they had work!
They were beating on the car and running up to the windows -- imagine their surprise when they finally looked in and saw the Ultimate White Bread Suburban Family looking back at them.
They ran off laughing.
Aww... family memories.