My brother had his bachelor party last night. I say “party” but really it was five guys drinking at Sticky Fingerz and Paper Moon. I had never been to a strip club before. Not because I had anything against them, just because I never had any overriding interest in investigating them. It’s just another one of those things I had never gotten around to, like learning to bake a pie or ride a motorcycle. I wasn’t sure quite what to think; I’m sure, given my tendencies toward overly analytical sociological observation, I could write volumes on the experience, but I’ll keep it brief and say I was pleasantly surprised. From seeing their depiction in movies, I assumed a level of sleaziness was inherent in these places, but there was no “I’m too sexy” posturing or detached posing. The girls were very friendly and sweet. Obviously they’re getting paid to be nice, so they can solicit lapdances, but really that’s not too far removed from Wal-Mart greeters getting paid to smile and say “hi.” It’s just good customer service. It’s not a job you take if you’re not at least somewhat interested in being honestly friendly with people.
Maybe I’ll write more on the topic later; there are so many interesting layers of social interaction going on at a strip club.
Now I know I’m from another planet when I walk into a strip club thinking “what a fascinating sociological case study” rather than “mmmm, boobies.” However, the latter eventually did outlast the former.