Tuesday, June 10, 2008

When it's time to leave....running.

I went to a bachelor party the other night. I find that idea interesting, because NOBODY I KNOW is getting married. So I showed up late and tried to duck into the back. It's an odd habit of mine.

I don't really like adult "entertainment" that much. The idea of being viewed like a human ATM - they just have to figure which of my buttons to press to make the money come out - lost it's appeal years and years ago. I used to help hold down the wheel of a little shake joint and I guess after a while of four nights a week I kinda burnt out on the whole thing. So although I live in Atlanta which has more little spots like this than you would believe, I'm not a fan.

But I do know this. The kind of dancer who would choose a private party over a club is someone who would be, and I'm trying to put this delicately, would be a less than superstar contestant. A few points less than a ten, ya know. But the party is around the corner and I was bored, so what the hey.

And wouldn't you know it, I was right.

So I spend most of the function in the kitchen, away from the main event. It's a "New Skool" bachelor party, as there are women as well as men enjoying the "entertainment." The music is whatever plays next on the CD player and the living room which probably looks huge with five people in it was shoulder to shoulder to dancer. It's a typical low key affair that just chugs along as everybody has a good time. But as long as everybody has a good time, it's all gravy.

Now another interesting feature is that the host thoughtfully installed is a pole. Which is really interesting because none of the dancers can well, to a woman none of them is ...er, of the right size...to make best use of the item. It just kinda stands there. But pole was finally why I knew it was time to leave.

So as the function wound down, the entertainment is ...lounging...and somehow without me really paying attention the after party becomes Pole Dancing 101 - for beginners. A few of the dancers have to be "helped" into position before they're attempts at acrobatic tricks fail. It becomes a comedy moment. Then a few of the remaining female patrons decide to give it a try... but are no better. I think I just jingled my keys in pocket, an absent minded gesture that was perhaps fate's way of saying "and that's your cue."

So this GUY grabs the pole...yes, a man. He swings his body around and does a pole slide. Seriously.

The women laughed themselves into hysterics, the "entertainment" applauded and I found the exit so fast you would have thought I'd discovered teleportation. Not my kinda party. No sir. No siree Bob. I thanked the host, who in typical fashion was at the in-the-street talking about nothing for twenty to forty more minutes afterset that happens at every house party.

But that which as been seen cannot be unseen.

Barkeep...you got any eye bleach?

1 comment:

Tigress said...

Loved this post. I'm not sure why but everything about it just flowed so right.