Strip clubs. Let's talk about them.
I'm going to say something, and I know that no one is going to believe me but here it is: I really am not a big fan of strip clubs. I'm not. And I'm not just saying that to try to score some "nice guy" points with the lady-folk out there. I have no desire whatsoever to do that. And I'm not just saying it to act like I'm above the whole situation and too cool for skin bars. I'm not some high and mighty moralist, looking down my nose at the plebs who enjoy a night at the local
vagitorium. Anyone who knows me can attest to that.
No. The whole strip club scene just doesn't appeal to me that much. I'm a little too... desensitized to get all revved up just by seeing naked tits and ass
gyrating on stage. The whole "tease" thing doesn't appeal to me. It's like watching someone prepare a four-course, gourmet dinner and then throw it into the garbage before I can eat it (no pun intended). Beyond that, the drinks are almost always overpriced, and the selection of beer and even liquor is piss-poor.
Now, this isn't a big deal. I don't get a kick out of titty bars. Big fucking deal, right? Well, I have a few friends who enjoy going to these places. And they go fairly frequently. These trips are usually spur of the moment things, so it's not like I can just stay home and avoid strip club night. Someone in the group gets the thought implanted (no pun intended) in their head during the course of an evening out, usually thanks to a clothed pair of breasts in a clothing non-optional bar, and off we go. I'm not going to play the wet blanket and bitch about it either. After my usual "Here we go again..." head-shaking lamentation, I'll go along without any further complaint. There's no reason why you should rain on your friends' parade, especially when that parade is full of
blondes in clear heels.
Based on these frequent trips, I've learned a bit about strip clubs. More specifically, I've learned a lot about strip clubs in
Las Vegas and Milwaukee. I thought I'd take some time talking about things I've noticed, lessons learned, yadda yadda. Here goes nothing...
Vegas clubs are mildly amazing. I was in one last Summer that was/is the biggest strip club in the world. Honestly, I haven't kept up with the current record holder on that one, hence the was/is. Anyway, this place was like Kohl's department store with poles and stages. It was huge. It was also run with the efficiency of a German auto factory. As I walked in with two friends, a man with a
walkie talkie opened the front door for us. "We got three coming in, three coming in." After we paid the cover, we were met at the second set of doors by another door man, flanked by three clothing removal technicians. The ladies accompanied us to our table, and let's just say that the night began from there.
Milwaukee clubs are very different. Vegas is all about the sell. Those ladies will bleed your wallet dry. It helps that they are usually drop dead gorgeous, thanks to the proximity to LA. Milwaukee is much more laid back. I have never once been pressured by an
MKE stripper to buy a lap dance. In Vegas, you are lucky if you go five minutes without being hit up for a
lapper. For someone who isn't there to pay for a dry humping, that's a great thing. I suppose that's why I don't really put up a huge fight when my friends want to go to a strip club. It isn't the annoyance in Milwaukee that it can be in Vegas.
Seating is very important. First, let's talk tables. If you are in Vegas, you want to be the guy in the middle. Going back to my previous Vegas example, I made sure that I took the middle seat between my two friends. They were on the ends, so they got pestered (that really seems like the wrong word for it...) by more of the strippers for dances. I was sort of tucked away, so only the most motivated of girls would make their way to me to make their crotch grinding sales pitch.
Our next stop is the stage. Nine times out of ten, this is where you will find me sitting with my friends. I'll be the guy on the end trying to maintain a conversation with one of my distracted friends or staring up at the lights, thinking. Oddly enough, I get a lot of good thinking done at strip clubs. Strip clubs and buses... great venues for deep thoughts.
Anyway, the stage is actually a great place to be if you want to keep the night cheap (and I do). The dancers don't hit you up for
lappers on their tip walk. You end up dropping only a single or two during each song, especially if you are cheap as fuck like me. You can also nurse a beer for a long while and not have to worry about waitresses pestering you constantly for more drinks and/or shots. The stage is good.
Finally, the bar. I have occasionally sat at the bar while at a strip club. It's a fairly rare event, usually reserved for those times that I either really want to drink or don't feel well (I was once at a strip club while sick... I don't recommend it). Good things can happen at the bar though. Quick story about a friend of mine, M. On his first trip to Vegas, M was dead set on going to a strip club. Unfortunately, he wasn't with a great group. He was with a mutual friend of ours who never goes out anywhere other than sports bars, this mutual friend's born again Christian brother, and their 50-something year old mother. Not exactly the crew you want with you for a wild night out. M said fuck it and went to the strip club alone. Yeah, he was that guy. He sat at the bar, ordered a few drinks, and just sort of took it all in. After a while, one of the dancers came over by him and started chatting him up. They talked for a while and got along pretty well. So well, in fact, that she decided to take him home with her at the end of her shift. Like I said, good things can happen at the bar.
Usually, I can come up with some nugget of insight about a topic, but I'm coming up short here. This has really been more of a description than a critique or an analysis. I guess the topic has been on my mind for a distinct reason, though. I have a friend coming in from out of town for the weekend. She's getting married Sunday and wants to have an impromptu
bachelorette party. Guess where I'm going to end up Friday night.
