Orlando Strippers

Two Denny’s waitresses and I walk into a strip club …

Two Denny’s waitresses and I walk into a strip club . . .

Sounds like the setup to a bad joke with an even worse Moons Over My Hammy punchline, doesn’t it? If only.  Instead, it was just the icing on a cake of a night.  A booze-filled, stripper-flavored* cake.

Stripper at Rachel's Casselberry

Why was I doing something that I said I’d never do?  I would love to say it’s because I’m tackling my fears or pushing my boundaries, but that would demonstrate a depth that, frankly, I don’t possess.  No, the reason I did it is that when you go to Denny’s so frequently that you become friends with the waitresses, and when two of those waitresses, who happen to be very cute girls, ask you to go do something, you say yes, motherfucker.

The establishment that we visited is called Rachel’s World Class Adult Entertainment Complex and Steak House.  I’m guessing the name is carefully crafted to create an impression of a high-class establishment for discerning gentlemen.  That, and “Rachel’s Tits and Steak” was probably already taken.

Our evening began at 6 PM, which means that “evening” is a bit of a misnomer because it was still light out.  Our drinking began at 6 PM, and at twenty-five cents per drink, it didn’t cost nearly as much as I expected to garner the strength to look up from the table to the stage. I mean monetarily, of course.  It cost me just as much as I expected in dignity.

Another stripper at Rachel's Casselberry

I would like to commend Rachel’s for providing employment, in this tough economy, for women of all ages, shapes, sizes, levels of droopiness, scarring, and number of teeth.  I saw many . . . . ummm, what do I call them?  “Girls” is probably condescending, most were too young to be “women”, “strippers” seems too dirty, “sluts” is a bit presumptuous albeit likely, and “ladies” only works if you say it with a douchey ironic lilt to your voice.  Let me try again.  I saw many dead-behind-the-eyes denizens of the night who were perfectly attractive females, if you saw them at the mall or your local discotheque.  What distorts one’s perception is when a girl who looks cute at the mall like she’d totally go down on you at an Alanis concert gets up on a stage wearing nothing but clear band-aids over her nipples, a black sequined thong, and six-inch heels, you notice all of the same problem areas that you’d otherwise ignore if you were genuinely interested in her for more than just watching her gyrate naked in front of you.

Rachel's of Casselberry's "Touch and Go" policy

As this was both an entertainment venue and a steak house, I would have been derelict in my responsibility to myself had I not explored the culinary options available.  A small, limited menu was provided, and I chose a $45.00 filet mignon, served Oscar style (topped with crab and served with asparagus and hollandaise sauce).  My black, cigarette-scarred table was topped with a white linen, adding a level of class that provides a good lesson: When in doubt, throw a white sheet on top of it.

The food arrived within 15 minutes, and I will admit that my expectations were far exceeded.  Of course, I expected a piece of burnt meat that tasted like shit, but the steak I received was almost on par with any that I would order at Ruth’s Chris, Fleming’s, or any other fine dining establishment that is not enhanced by the gyrating presence of thongs and techno music.

In addition, eating my meal gave me an opportunity to look somewhere other than the stage, allowing me to avoid deciding where to make eye contact.  It’s an interesting dilemma.  I couldn’t look at them in their eyes, because (a) I didn’t want to lose my soul, and (b) it’s important to avoid giving them any visual indication that I wanted them to come over and provide personal, probably expensive and/or skanky, attention and entertainment.  I certainly did not want to focus my attention on their breasts or pelvic region, as it only served to make me feel like more of an exploitative pervert, and I tried to avoid spending too much time examining their shoes, as that would mean I was gay.  Generally, I would find a spot below their eyes but above their breasts where I could safely stare without encouraging any interaction, feeling guilty, or perpetuating homosexual myths about myself.

Where to stare when watching a stripper

In the three and a half hours that I spent at Rachel’s Tits and Steak, only one denizen of the night disturbed me emotionally, and that was the one who was pregnant.  She wasn’t too far along – maybe four to five months, but far enough that her baby bump was distinctly visible as she stood less than five feet away from me, inhaling the smoke from every cigarette burning, moving her hips in such a way as to resemble (inadvertently, I assume) a Pilgrim churning butter.  The hero in me (an apt nickname I received years ago that refers to Say Anything is Captain Boombox) wanted to talk to her, ask her if she had any other skills, give her a job and a place to stay if she needed it, defend her from those who would resist her change, and rescue her baby from a life of lap dances and syphilis. The pessimist in me sarcastically assumed that she was going to get an abortion anyway, so what did it matter.  The idealist in me optimistically decided that she was doing her last shift and saving every penny to send her kid to Harvard, and so I just did the only thing I could do – use my teeth to tuck a dollar bill under her G-string*.  You’re welcome, baby.

*No strippers were tasted or harmed.  Well, harmed beyond the daily emotional deterioration of having a job where you get naked for money.

*No, I didn’t.

46 thoughts on “Two Denny’s waitresses and I walk into a strip club …”

  1. Fascinating. I’ve never been to a strip club and you answered a lot of the questions I had.

    It is wrong that the most interesting thing to me was that you ended up with a really good steak?!?

  2. OK, now that you’ve finally been to a strip club with some mild oddities, the next obvious step is to go to the Clermont Lounge* in Atlanta for the real freakshow ride.


    *Or as I like to call it “The Island of Misfit Strippers”.

  3. One strip club I went to, the women’s bathroom doubled as the strippers dressing room. They had to stand guards outside the door to keep men from going in. At another, the bathrooms were co-ed which I did NOT like. No strippers in that one though. Oh, one time, while getting a lap dance, my stripper was so nice. She told me to watch my purse because “the bitches here STEAL.”

    Strip clubs are so bad ass.

    I’ve never had a steak, or even eaten for that matter at a strip club.

  4. We have a Rachel’s down here and, I must admit, the food was pretty good. The entertainment left a bit to be desired. There’s another place down here that, in the past, has had better looking dancers.

    So now you’ve done it and you never have to again. I’ve always had fun in strip clubs, but the last time I went was probably the last time I’ll ever go because it seems so sad to me suddenly.

  5. I’ll bet those waitresses had an awesome time watching you!
    I took my (young) cousin out for her bachelorette party last month. We only have one “straight” (ha ha) club that has male dancers – and even then it’s only on Friday & Saturday nights. So, five or so tables of women working and one table of men (all the way in the back, if you please) makes for a hilarious event! Nothing like watching the virgin(s) try to figure out where to look so that they don’t appear pervy or totally out of their element. Like anyone *should* look comfortable in there! XD

  6. I randomly came across your blog from a blog comment on a friend’s blog and I have spent the last hour reading different posts and laughed hysterically! One of the posts I came across was about your lap-band procedure and you had lost 100lbs….but then I saw that was in 2009. I’m curious to know the rest of the story….did you reach your goal?

    1. @Michelle, thanks for the comment and the visit. I have not yet reached the ultimate goal, but I’ve gotten to a point that I’m much happier with myself. Any plateauing that I’ve done is entirely my fault, and I know that with a little motivation, I’ll be back on track easily.

      1. @Avitable, I’m happy to hear that you’re much happier with yourself! Have you found that the more disciplined you are with your nutrition and exercise, the better disciplined you are in other areas of your life?

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