A quiet evening in a Turkish prison?

Istanbul - Turkey, many years ago.

This was at the beginning of my sugar days. I had taken a 1 year sabbatical from my financial career and worked for an anonymous employer. I had befriended a colleague of mine who was also into sugar, although I think he was more of an escort daddy than a sugar daddy. Anyway, we were dispatched to fly for a couple of days and attend some meetings in Istanbul. Beautiful place, although the drivers were crazy, maybe because I didn't notice any traffic lights in the part of town we were staying. After our meeting, we had the next day free with not much to do. So he came up with a great idea. He rushed in my room and woke me up from under the pile of empty Turkish beer bottles and Soldier of Fortune magazines I was reading. 'Let's go get us some sugar' he said triumphantly. He was bent on planting his 'flag pole' in as many continents as he could.
Now this being a foreign country, not particularly friendly, and where most folks did not speak English I did not feel too safe. Plus we were supposed to fly out soon. I still spoke some of the local language, so finally I let him talk me into it.

Acting as a translator and asking shop owners and cab drivers we found the naughty part of town. We walked into several of the hostess bars before settling into one where he really, and I mean really liked the Romanian girl serving drinks and making conversation with the patrons. He spent a good fortune in there and became buzzed. I was looking at my watch trying not to appear nervous, as I was concerned about a set up, and didn't feel like getting whacked in Istanbul of all places. He and this lady were spending some quality time upstairs, when the police arrived. I put down my drink and dashed out of the place and came outside to witness a horrifying view. There were two trucks waiting for us, with several police officers, and a long line of Turks piling into the trucks. Apparently it was an evening tradition in that neighborhood and everybody was climbing obediently into those trucks and being shuttled to God knows where. Clearly we could not afford to get in the truck. I saw my friend stumble by the entrance, I walk quickly and grab him, and in my broken Turkish I declare that we are Italian tourists (didn't feel like tipping them we were Americans). A swarm of natives started coming out of the same bar, the officer slaps my friend in the back of the head and screams at him something that sounded like 'son of a foreign dog get the hell out of here'. I took him by the hand and walked with our heads down in the opposite direction. It took us an hour to get back to the hotel, and then I slapped him in the back of the head as well.
We almost got arrested, without carrying any passport, in a foreign place, and we would have ended up spending at least one night in a very warm and crowded prison cell.

Which goes to show: When looking for sugar, stay local. Or if you must travel, don't look for sugar anywhere between Turkey and Afganistan!