Not A Cheetah

I went to a strip club called Cheetahs on Saturday night. This after going to two kid's birthday parties and sitting in a highway parking lot of traffic for an hour. I would have been asleep except for the crack high I still had going from the red velvet cake/brownie/pinatta candy combo I took. So when I got the text to come see a friend sing at the bar down the street in 15 minutes, I said Let me just change out of my jams, I'm on my way.

Cheetahs. If you say it with an English accent it sounds like the same word for people who cheat.

It probably seems like I go all the time, but except for the Chippendales, I have never been to a strip club. Josh met me outside. The place wasn't too crowded but the lights and mirrors and music made it seem like there was a lot going on. The first thing I noticed was three policeman (real ones not Chips) standing in the back, then the girls in bikinis, then oh my god there's the pole!

Put your arm down, Josh said before going to get some drinks. Jason was there too but I didn't feel like talking, there was too much to look at. One girl with a spray tan and a muffin top walked around like a zombie offering lap dances. I was surprised at how unenthusiastic everyone was. I slumped in my chair and tried to fit in. It was a strange crowd. An old guy in a Brooks Brothers button down shirt walked by; he looked like someone's grandpa, like he read the NY Times and had a golden retriever. He was just there having a cocktail by himself, checking the titties, the buns. Across the room two girls sat together at a table, they were both dressed like oldtime newsies, one was doing a crossword puzzle the other was talking to a skinny girl with a mohawk and tattoos. We tried to figure out their story: they were buddies we decided, possibly room-mates and the skinny girl was their pet they kept in a cage during the day.

Once I felt adjusted to the pace and the rhythm of the place, I wanted to see The Show. No more talking, no more listening to music, just shut up and take off your clothes. I felt like a grown man. Two girls came out on stage, they looked exactly alike, in the same way that soldiers do, and they started their presentation. One of them strapped on a red glowing penis and pretended to jerk off while the other one got down on her hands and knees and gave the first one a blow job. They were all serious and businesslike, there was nothing fun about it even though the face of the girl sucking the glowstick lit up like a christmas ornament.

It was hard to get lost in this. I tried to man up and get serious but I couldn't. I know there are other clubs where the dancing is great and the girls look like Jessica Biel but I couldn't help feeling like I was at another kid party, waiting for it to end.