The Strip Club That I Didn’t Hate
It was like something out of the movies. We walked down a flight of dimly lit stairs. There was a bouncer who checked our IDs and stuck out his hand to receive the $20 cover charge. Another well dressed server asked us how he could help us. My friend gave him a twenty dollar bill and the server gratefully replied, “I’m going to work for this, guys. Let me find you a table right up front.” And the night began.
I had never been in a strip club before. Guys like me don’t go in strip clubs. Actually, I’ve always been slightly turned off by strip clubs. We had just been at a girl’s birthday party in the East Village and didn’t want the night to end. My two buddies suggested we hit up a club called “Flashdancers” and I reluctantly agreed. I expected the place to be grungy, cheap, and filled with butterfaced trailer-trash. That wasn’t the case.
The three of us were escorted to a table. Behind us there were about twenty chairs on the wall. Guys were sitting in them while the girls wearing nothing but G-strings did their thing. The chairs were lined up like it was a classroom. It looked like a petting zoo. When we found our table and sat down there was a girl dancing just for us. She was hot, probably twenty years old, and after she did her thing for about five minutes, they rotated in another girl. Nothing got old.
I didn’t make eye contact with one girl in the entire place that night. If you gave them attention they would come up to you and try to get you to buy a dance. I didn’t want a dance though. I’m not one for PDA and I don’t have $50 (or many multiples of that) to spend on such things. What if I got hard and she threw a drink in my face? Can’t you get AIDS from lapdances?
Every five minutes or so a new girl would walk up, put their hand on the inside of your leg and ask you if you wanted a dance. About twenty times I declined. Other times they would come up to you and offer a message. I prefer the fully clothed Asian professionals commonly found in my neighborhood, which conveniently borders Chinatown. Plus, I don’t know lapdance etiquette. What if I did something wrong?
We were there for close to two hours. We saw probably thirty pairs of breasts. The girls weren’t people. They were bodies. The worst part was that they didn’t seem to care. Some of them seemed to be enjoying themselves. Maybe that’s the attitude a great stripper projects. I don’t know.
At the end of the night I realized that I didn’t have any more money in my pocket. My friend had just spend $80 on a dance. Some girl gave him a wink and whispered in his ear. Next thing I know she’s dry-humping him in the petting zoo.
It was definitely an experience. I’m slightly embarrassed by it. I have sisters, a mother, a grandmother. What would they think? What truly scares me is that I had fun. It was a good time. I felt bad for the girls while I was there, but not bad enough to get up and leave. Will I go back? Probably not. But if I do I’ll get a few dances so that I have some decent writing material.