I took a trip to Leeds this summer. I typically bypass the industrial town when I’m on business in England, preferring the tourist sites and chic hotels of London, but I needed something different this time. I won’t even go into detail about the airport security, the lines, scanners, or the fact that the TSA treats everyone like a potential terrorist these days. I will just say my plane arrived three hours late. No worries. I took a tax, got to the hotel, and then went out on the town to find a nice, cozy little pub for a pint. Every bar I enter was overflowing with soccer hooligans. I saw three different fights. The paddy-wagon arrived to take some guy away. I left early. Heading back to the hotel I saw a sign for Leeds escorts on the side of a phone booth. My night got better after that.