Aug. 16: Erotic City
I think Calgary used to have a stripclub called Erotic City. I can’t
be sure. I think I can be excusedfor not being familiar with the names
of any city’s peeler bars. Idon’t like ‘em. I used to have a friend who
was always trying todrag me to Erotic City – he was convinced that one
of the strippersthere had a crush on him – and I eventually had to tell
him to finda new friend.
I don’t know how many times I’vebeen in strip clubs but I suspect I could count them on one hand.Full disclosure: my friends took me to one for my 18thbirthday and I got way too drunk there and I have never been thatdrunk since and I never want to be that drunk again.
Another time Iwent was so that my friend could introduce me to the stripper hethought had a crush on him. I hated it. I sat down at the bar and Idrank a 7-Up and I looked to my right and I saw a girl in the privateshow room spread her legs five times for some ugly middle-aged dudein a blue and white suit. When she was done, the guy gave her somemoney. She spread her legs again. He gave her more money. She did itagain. And then I walked out and I waited in the car for my friend tocome out.
Another time, I was with an old collegefriend. He and his buddies wanted to go to the strip club for theevening. I told them I wouldn’t stop them but I wouldn’taccompany them; I’d wait outside instead. “Why don’t you goin?” my friend’s buddy asked. “Religious beliefs,” I said.
You know, I tried to soundnon-judgmental but this dude took offense to it. “Nothing wrongwith strip clubs,” he said. “They actually help me a lot.”
He proceeded to tell me that stripclubs were amazing marital aids. What happened was he went to thestrip club, got turned on by all the girls, and then took hishorniness home to his wife.
They’re divorced now.
-
There actually is a movie called EroticCity.
Yeah, pretty sure it’s one of THOSEkinds of movies.
-
In 1996, I worked at a hotel in northCalgary. The hotel had a strip club closeby and the strippers (whocalled themselves dancers) often stayed at the hotel. Sometimes I hadto drive them to the club, wait for them to finish their sets, andthen drive them back to the hotel.
The strippers never talked to me –always seemed to regard me as a lowlife. One of them yelled at meonce for stopping too suddenly at a stop sign. They never tipped meeven though plenty of them finished their sets with enough looniesand toonies to buy me a new car.
One cold evening, the kitchen managernoticed me waiting in the parking lot and he invited me in for aplate of complementary chicken wings.
“Only if I can eat in the kitchen,”I said. “No offense but I have religious views about frequentingstrip clubs.”
“I can respect that,” he said. “Ican totally respect that.”
I ate my wings. He grilled me, gently,on why I didn’t like strip clubs. I asked him if he had children.He said he had a three-year-old daughter. I asked him if he’d behappy if his daughter one day became a stripper or an actor inpornographic films.
Here is what he said to me: “No.”
-
Listen: The owners of the hotel, andthe strip club, were Muslims.
I drove the owner home once. He livedin a very big house on the south end of Calgary. I asked him if he’dmind a personal question. He said no. I asked him if he felt therewas an inconsistency between being a Muslim and owning a strip club.
Here is what he said to me: “Yes. ButI don’t know what to do about it yet.”
-
I don’t think that strip club isthere anymore. I think it’s now a carpet warehouse.
Some people might say that’s the samething.
-
I lied a bit. One time, there was thisstripper in town from California and she said she was dying for aGreek salad. Problem is the hotel didn’t serve Greek salad. Sheasked the people at the front desk if the nice limo driver (me) coulddrive her to a Greek restaurant downtown. Permission was granted. Idrove her to the restaurant, which had a blue and white sign and apicture of the Acropolis on the side of the building.
She ate her salad, which had olives andclumpy white things in it. She asked me what kind of car I drove andI told her I had a 1986 Pontiac T-1000, which looked like this:
She told me she had a black Corvettedown in California. A black Corvette looked like this:
She asked me where I lived. I told herI lived at home with my parents. She told me she and her boyfriendlived in an Oceanside condo and that they were thinking of buying asecond home in New York.
I asked her to pick up her salad forkand stab me in the eye.
-
Once I had to drive two strippers tothe club. They sat in the backseat and talked shop. One of themtalked about how the evil visitor was going to disrupt tonight’sset (I think I know what she was talking about but I could be wrong.)The other one talked about “the custies” at a club in Vegas andhow she made $500 in tips at someone’s 21st birthdayparty. I wanted to ask them what they thought life was all about orif they had any ideas on how to reduce poverty.
But I didn’t.
-
I just remembered something about thevery last time I went to a strip club. I guess I was 19 or so and Iwas with friends and I was the only one not drinking. Some blondegirlie had just finished her set in front of us and one of my buddiestossed her a fin and screamed: “I love you.”
“Sure you do,” the girl said, and Ibelieve I saw genuine sadness in those eyes.
You know, ladies and gentlemen, Iwanted to talk to that stripper. I wanted to get her alone in arestaurant, wearing classy clothes, and talk to her about life andlove and church and Jesus. I didn’t though. Don’t think I couldhave made contact with her anyway.
-
When I was 20, I wrote a novel about aChristian businessman who bought his small town’s only video storeand threw away all the pornographic movies. In my book, this movesparked a major controversy that captured international headlines. Inreal life, it wouldn’t even get a mention in the local communitynewspaper. People who wanted to rent a blue movie at the video storewould be mildly disappointed and then, in this day and age, find whatthey wanted on the Internet.
I’ve heard it said that the sexindustry generates billions of dollars every year and is morelucrative than alcohol and cocaine. I don’t doubt this. Men areunfaithful – plenty not by deed but most in the mind. It is thefuelling of this fantasy life that keeps the money rolling in.
-
Everytime I comb my hair thoughts of Uget in my eyes. You’re a sinner I don’t care. I just want yourcreamy thighs.
I don’t know how many times I’vebeen in strip clubs but I suspect I could count them on one hand.Full disclosure: my friends took me to one for my 18thbirthday and I got way too drunk there and I have never been thatdrunk since and I never want to be that drunk again.
Another time Iwent was so that my friend could introduce me to the stripper hethought had a crush on him. I hated it. I sat down at the bar and Idrank a 7-Up and I looked to my right and I saw a girl in the privateshow room spread her legs five times for some ugly middle-aged dudein a blue and white suit. When she was done, the guy gave her somemoney. She spread her legs again. He gave her more money. She did itagain. And then I walked out and I waited in the car for my friend tocome out.
Another time, I was with an old collegefriend. He and his buddies wanted to go to the strip club for theevening. I told them I wouldn’t stop them but I wouldn’taccompany them; I’d wait outside instead. “Why don’t you goin?” my friend’s buddy asked. “Religious beliefs,” I said.
You know, I tried to soundnon-judgmental but this dude took offense to it. “Nothing wrongwith strip clubs,” he said. “They actually help me a lot.”
He proceeded to tell me that stripclubs were amazing marital aids. What happened was he went to thestrip club, got turned on by all the girls, and then took hishorniness home to his wife.
They’re divorced now.
-
There actually is a movie called EroticCity.
Yeah, pretty sure it’s one of THOSEkinds of movies.
-
In 1996, I worked at a hotel in northCalgary. The hotel had a strip club closeby and the strippers (whocalled themselves dancers) often stayed at the hotel. Sometimes I hadto drive them to the club, wait for them to finish their sets, andthen drive them back to the hotel.
The strippers never talked to me –always seemed to regard me as a lowlife. One of them yelled at meonce for stopping too suddenly at a stop sign. They never tipped meeven though plenty of them finished their sets with enough looniesand toonies to buy me a new car.
One cold evening, the kitchen managernoticed me waiting in the parking lot and he invited me in for aplate of complementary chicken wings.
“Only if I can eat in the kitchen,”I said. “No offense but I have religious views about frequentingstrip clubs.”
“I can respect that,” he said. “Ican totally respect that.”
I ate my wings. He grilled me, gently,on why I didn’t like strip clubs. I asked him if he had children.He said he had a three-year-old daughter. I asked him if he’d behappy if his daughter one day became a stripper or an actor inpornographic films.
Here is what he said to me: “No.”
-
Listen: The owners of the hotel, andthe strip club, were Muslims.
I drove the owner home once. He livedin a very big house on the south end of Calgary. I asked him if he’dmind a personal question. He said no. I asked him if he felt therewas an inconsistency between being a Muslim and owning a strip club.
Here is what he said to me: “Yes. ButI don’t know what to do about it yet.”
-
I don’t think that strip club isthere anymore. I think it’s now a carpet warehouse.
Some people might say that’s the samething.
-
I lied a bit. One time, there was thisstripper in town from California and she said she was dying for aGreek salad. Problem is the hotel didn’t serve Greek salad. Sheasked the people at the front desk if the nice limo driver (me) coulddrive her to a Greek restaurant downtown. Permission was granted. Idrove her to the restaurant, which had a blue and white sign and apicture of the Acropolis on the side of the building.
She ate her salad, which had olives andclumpy white things in it. She asked me what kind of car I drove andI told her I had a 1986 Pontiac T-1000, which looked like this:
She told me she had a black Corvettedown in California. A black Corvette looked like this:
She asked me where I lived. I told herI lived at home with my parents. She told me she and her boyfriendlived in an Oceanside condo and that they were thinking of buying asecond home in New York.
I asked her to pick up her salad forkand stab me in the eye.
-
Once I had to drive two strippers tothe club. They sat in the backseat and talked shop. One of themtalked about how the evil visitor was going to disrupt tonight’sset (I think I know what she was talking about but I could be wrong.)The other one talked about “the custies” at a club in Vegas andhow she made $500 in tips at someone’s 21st birthdayparty. I wanted to ask them what they thought life was all about orif they had any ideas on how to reduce poverty.
But I didn’t.
-
I just remembered something about thevery last time I went to a strip club. I guess I was 19 or so and Iwas with friends and I was the only one not drinking. Some blondegirlie had just finished her set in front of us and one of my buddiestossed her a fin and screamed: “I love you.”
“Sure you do,” the girl said, and Ibelieve I saw genuine sadness in those eyes.
You know, ladies and gentlemen, Iwanted to talk to that stripper. I wanted to get her alone in arestaurant, wearing classy clothes, and talk to her about life andlove and church and Jesus. I didn’t though. Don’t think I couldhave made contact with her anyway.
-
When I was 20, I wrote a novel about aChristian businessman who bought his small town’s only video storeand threw away all the pornographic movies. In my book, this movesparked a major controversy that captured international headlines. Inreal life, it wouldn’t even get a mention in the local communitynewspaper. People who wanted to rent a blue movie at the video storewould be mildly disappointed and then, in this day and age, find whatthey wanted on the Internet.
I’ve heard it said that the sexindustry generates billions of dollars every year and is morelucrative than alcohol and cocaine. I don’t doubt this. Men areunfaithful – plenty not by deed but most in the mind. It is thefuelling of this fantasy life that keeps the money rolling in.
-
Everytime I comb my hair thoughts of Uget in my eyes. You’re a sinner I don’t care. I just want yourcreamy thighs.
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