Don’t Boo the Stripper

Friday night was our usually night to go out. We'd usually start out by getting something to eat at some sort of greasy spoon or with some crappy bar menu. Tim and I still weren't of age, but we'd been using our fake ID's for so long that it was second nature. I had gotten mine from a friend's brother who looked nothing like me and was at least 3 inches shorter and Tim was actually using Aaron's ID, so we always had to go in the door separately. Just another point that proves the drinking laws in the US are stupid. We had used the ID's so many times we were now getting in without them even taking a look at the ID. This Friday started like any other; Food and beer, followed by more beer and booze. Maybe some dancing and vane attempts at picking up women ending with us passing out on the ride home. This trip had an additional stop near the end of the night I was drunk by then and was actually looking forward to going home. And not just a little drunk, but the kind of drunkenness where you make out with fat chicks and eat a 12 pack of white castles. But on this night, I'd have to settle for booing at strippers.

We ended up at the Detour, a Fairbanks bar that attracted the most young people. Our rule at the detour was no matter what was going on, as soon as they played "Come on ride the Train" twice, we had to leave, no questions asked. It was inevitably going to happen because the DJ only had 15 songs, so as soon as the song was played again, we were out the door. I was clearly ready to pass out in the back of Aaron's 318ti, but he and Tim insisted on going 'sailing', which was code for going to the Showboat. It was a local strip bar that could have passed for Porky's but with uglier women and no booze., It had the same wood siding with a cheesy neon sign that said Showboat.

Tim was like a pit-bull when it came to strip clubs. Once his mind was made up it was going to happen, it was easiest just to go there before he started getting pissed At the time, we were young single guys who on a normal night had a better chance at getting frost bite than getting a phone number from an attractive woman. Tim and Aaron dragged me in. Not that on most nights I wouldn't have wanted to go, but on this night I was well past my limit and had to get up at 7 the next morning for a day of manual labor on friends farm. Assuring me that a further good time awaited and that they'd cover my 20 dollar At that point I had nothing to lose but another hour or two of sleep and maybe a few singles.
The cattle prodded me through the door, picked up my cover charge and got a me a coke in a plastic neon purple glass shaped like a Mai tai glass with the 'showboat' on the side. Tim had an extensive collection which I'm sure his wife has since destroyed.

The boat was scarcely populated. It was about a 4 to 1 girl to guy ration which was normally a bad situation. For those who have never ventured into a gentlemen's' club, these girls are like vulcher's, they will keep hounding you for dances until you either leave or give in. And to have no one else in the club meant that they could all spend their time harassing us. But on this night, our stay wouldn't be long enough for it to matter.

We grabbed a table at center stage close to sniffers row but not on it. This way there was no implied obligation to tip the girls during every dance. We could choose who and how much we tipped. There are few things more awkward in the world than being on sniffers row when an ugly girl starts dancing. You really only have 3 options; you can walk away like you have to use the bathroom but have the possibility of either losing you spot or getting called out by the girl, her friends or the DJ. And for the most part, no one wants to be the asshole, especially in a room full of women. Second, you can sit there and hope she is cool with you not tipping her. This is seldom the case and really only works in places that are crowded and the songs short. Finally, you can tip an ugly stripper. Sometimes this is the easiest thing to do, but you fear the possibility of her following up her stage dance with a lap dance/drink request later. So your one awkward moment turns into two awkward moments

**Side story** This follows with the previous scenario. An old friend told a story once of being on sniffers row and he put down a dollar for one of the girls dancing. He said she had sunglasses on at first but took them off at the beginning of her dance. As soon as she took them off, he noticed that she was cross eyed so quickly grabbed his money and took off. It sounded funny with his Florida accent "the bitch was cross eyed. I'm not giving some cross eyed chick my money."

I was in very rough shape I could barely walk on my own, my stomach was queasy and I was closing one eye because I was seeing double. My buddies gave me a couple of bucks to give one of the stage dancers. I approached the stage as cavalier as possible and went through the routine. I commented after about how she needed a shower. I then began lying my head on the table like only drunk people can. Looking for sleep in the world's worst place to sleep. Aaron and Tim tried to wake me, but I was near gone. Sometime between sitting down and the end of the night, I started booing while my head was resting on the table. I'm capable of being a loud person, so amplifying that by resting my head on the table, made the boos extremely loud and almost an echo

And to no one's surprise, the dancer on the stage was not so happy with me. "Shut him up!" she screamed and pointed at me while Aaron, laughing historically, tried vainly to wake me from my daze and get me to stop booing at the young lady. He pulled me to my feet and I responded by motioning to the bathroom. I took two drunken wobbly steps towards the door and the bouncer had seen enough. He grabbed my left arm behind my back and said that I needed to leave.

"That's my bad arm dude; can you use the other one?" I asked as he quickly pushed me to the door like a two wheeled dolly. I think he thought I was trying to be a smart ass and maybe take a shot at him, but I was really just trying not to reinjure my shoulder. But I guess being bouncer wouldn't be a very good job if you couldn't throw people out the door onto the gravel parking lot. "I'm going to come back tomorrow sober and beat your ass!" I said while whipping dirt off of me.

Tim came out the door very angry. "Dude, I didn't even finish my fist pop! What the fuck did you do that for?" Aaron was still laughing his ass off and couldn't believe that I had just booed at a stripper.

"Dude, you just booed at the fucking stripper." Aaron said, still laughing.