I think I understand the whiskey sour story better now. It's about longing for something that you think you had and now you don't, but maybe you never really had it in the first place. I had an experience like that once in Berlin.
Prostitution was legal but tightly regulated there, and I occasionally availed myself of the professional services of the ladies of the evening. It wasn't exactly a quality experience, but it was better than nothing. The ladies were only allowed to ply their trade on Augsburger Strasse, a short street that branched off of the Kurfurstendam. They weren't real obvious about it, if you didn't know it was going on you wouldn't know that it was going on. Indeed, I once mistook a civilian girl for one of the pros. At first she was insulted, then kind of flattered. She was waiting for her boyfriend who was late, and she said that we might be able to make a deal if he didn't show up soon, but he did show up soon and she left with him.
(This is kind of a long story and it's getting late. Maybe I can finish it tomorow.)
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