Arriving on the outskirts of Athens by car I’ve pulled over to the side of the national road. The plan was for both my car and my friends’ car to converge at Dafni, where we were to meet a colleague to pick up something for my car. After traveling the whole journey together we became separated after the last tollbooth, and having seen no sign for Dafni and sensing I’ve gone too far, I’ve pulled over to the side of the road. I call my friends, they tell me to wait there. The stretch of road I’ve ended up on is an arterial route into the city; it’s heavy with traffic, but has only a few scattered businesses – some isolated car dealerships, gas stations and a couple of auto body shops. I notice a few people walking slowly along either side of the street in the distance, but in my distracted state their purpose there eludes me. After ten minutes or so of sitting with the car idling (I’ve got the car running for the air conditioning, the blistering heat of the day hasn’t yet dissipated), I notice a figure approaching my car. She’s waiving at me, and for some reason my first assumption is that she’s going to ask me for a ride. I start thinking of what I can say by way of excuse. It isn’t until I roll down the window and she steps up to the car that it finally clicks: she’s a sex worker, and she thinks I’m a potential John. I listen as she makes her ‘sales pitch’ in Greek (which I understand only fragments, but her demonstrative body language leaves little to the imagination). I try, in my pathetically limited pigeon Greek, to explain to her that I’m actually not cruising for sex. She doesn’t seem to buy this – for one thing, why else would I be sitting here alone in a car, engine idling, on a stretch that’s clearly marked for sex work? She asks me my name and gives me hers: Sofia. Then, perhaps thinking that I’m merely shy and need a little extra encouragement, she steps back and flashes me her ‘package.’ Now, sweating heavily, I manage to string together a grammatically-mangled sentence explaining my reasons for being here (waiting for friends in another car, etc.) She then suggests, rather emphatically, that this being the case, I should move further along the roadway where I’m not in her zone. I apologize profusely and do just that.