I’ve been busy trying to cover SilverDocs for DC Metblogs, and my past weekends were a trip in itself… but I’ll save that story for later. And this week has been crazy with going to all the Red Sox games this week and visiting the Spy Museum with PQ.
The tale I want to talk about today is my first time. My first time in a strip club.
Luckily it’s a tale I’m not telling on my own: all the hot blogs have already written about it. You know it was a good night out when it’s all over the hot pages afterwards. Do they still use that term, hot pages?
There’s a prologue to this story (you know some stories have prologues), I in Boston last summer for a Bachelor’s night out, you could call it a party but there weren’t any female dancers. Well that was the problem my friend and the groom wanted to fix it. He wasn’t from Massachusetts (or the USA for that matter) and he wanted to know where we could go look at some ladies.
So we’re in a bar in Faneuil Hall and he leans over and asks me, “Hey mate, do you know where the closest tittie bar is? You’re from here!”
Well I didn’t know. I knew that the Combat Zone is only now a legend and that the only places I knew were outside the city. A chat with the bartender confirmed my suspicions. No strip club for this group of guys.
Weeks after that night I was again enjoying some drinks with my newly married friend and some buddies. We were reflecting upon that night and when they discovered that I have not popped my red light cherry, they made a pact to do so.
Unfortunately Queen LiLu beat them to it.
The night started out fine, I was meeting up with the DC Blog crowd to enjoy some drinks at The Reef. The night started out pretty tame. Maxie was devouring Hummus, LiLu was dropping her phone from inappropriate places, nothing really that exciting.
Until the suggestion of walking down the street to Royal Palace was thrown out. Hearing the suggestion I mentioned how at 25, I was still a strip club virgin. Others not only heard this shocking truth, but also revealed that they too haven’t ever been to a strip club. I felt like I was magically transported to a support group. “Hi my name is Patrick and I’ve never paid for a lap dance.”
This sudden group revelation that we were mostly nerds drove the crowd to do one thing: go to the club… the strip club.
We were rolling pretty deep as we left The Reef and strolled down 18th. I remember that I was making calls on my cell and like magic Nicole ducked into a store and walked right back out with a pack of cigarettes, LiLu ducked into a pizza shop and walked right back out with a box of pizza. Of course time perception wasn’t my forte at the moment.
The Royal Palace was at the intersection of 18th and Florida, a point I walk by often but unaware that the windowless haunt was a strip club.A middle age Asian ushered us to some tables, shocked to see such a big crowd walk in on a Friday.
A girl in a bikini walked up and asked, “who’s getting married?!?!?” After we explained that nobody was getting married and nobody was celebrating a birthday, she too was shocked to see a crowd this size just want to come out to the Royal Palace. I guess that’s what happens when you hang around these folks.
Well it’s exactly what I expected: loud music, poles, women taking off clothes. As I sipped my expensive Bud Light I noticed a couple of women making a bee-line to our section. However there was no sweet talk, no lap dances (apparently they weren’t allowed at this club), but there were lots of handshaking. It was the weirdest greeting ever, all night women would walk up to me and just shook my hand. That reminds me, I should get a new hand- I might have scabees or something now.
The club wasn’t really what you’d call Royal or Palace. In fact the place was kinda dumpy. We just took in some of the performances and didn’t really do too much else. Maxie ran up a couple of times to offer some cash and a few of the girls with us started their own dance show- but were quickly stopped by security, “that [pointing to the dancers] is the entertainment, not you.”
That didn’t stop us from making our own fun, we soon left the club where a lesbian paid Alice $20 to dance on the pole supporting the awning and she did.
Well much like other first times, there was a lot of hype leading up to it- but in the end it was kinda of a let down. Maybe the next time will be better… if there is a next time…