disclaimer or something

A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Wardrobe malfunction

I went to a strip club once. There. I said it.

Some might say, "whaaat? A girl like you did that?" So I feel I must elaborate.

Envision a balmy summer evening set in the back streets of Ensenada, Mexico, the part tourists don't go, a small hotel that gringos didn't frequent. Inside one room was myself and a handful of college friends, all who spoke way better Spanish than me (I knew hola and that is really it), which explains why we were outside the gringo zone. However, being the gringos that we were, we decided the quiet hotel was not our forte and we might as well centre into the part of town that was lined with bars and thus lots of drunk college kids.

Being poor as many college kids are, I couldn't afford the fancy entertainment and libations at places like SeƱor Frogs, so I wandered around sadly as I saw the wealthy college kids pour out of the infamous bars, reeking of the alcohol I could not have. That is when I wandered around a corner and saw a Mexican man outside a small establishment, waving a beer in his hand, calling out "cerveza gratis", free beer. Could it be? Free beer?

Let me tell you, nothing in this world is free. I walk in, sit down, and smile as a cold (and free!) beer is placed in my hand. I take the first sip as my eyes adjust to the smokey light and realize there is a stage at the front of the bar, and lights and poles and oh my God this is a strip club. And on cue, out walks a "professional entertainer". I try an stare into the caramel brown glass of my beer, but I am close enough to the stage that my peripheral vision is rubbernecking towards the train wreck gyrating on stage; tonight's obviously amateur night. I consider leaving the obese middle aged woman and her pole behind, but my frugal side (free beer!) and college side (yay! Beer!) won't let me. I sit there nearly unable to move due to shock, as I tell myself to chug that damned beer and get out quick. My body and brain obey and I leave before the first song is even over.

So that folks is how I have been to a strip club and how nothing in this world is truly free.


  1. Sometimes the worst beer in the world can taste great, because of the atmosphere we enjoy it in.

    I hope that was the best tasting beer in the world, because the atmosphere obviously wasn't! :)

  2. I had a friend who was a stripper for a while, she put herself through nursing school dancing on a pole, so I visited her a few times at work and it was uh... quite the experience. It seems the ladies really like the other ladies, though. I guess we aren't as threatening or creepy?