I really liked a girl from September through November this year. We dated a little bit, both of us acknowledged that we weren't ready to date anyone including each other and gracefully slipped into the Friend Zone.
During that courtship, an opportunity arose to attend my friend Ryan's birthday party. These parties have been and continue to be limousined tours of strip clubs in Portland complemented by a steady intake of alcohol. Because the girl mentioned in the last paragraph hates strip clubs with somewhat of an indescribable passion, I declined the party invitation.
So, along comes December 1st. Traffic snarls caused me to exit the freeway onto Division street. I drove by a bar for whom the friend mentioned in the last paragraph works. I called to verify that he was in fact working at that moment and drove to Montego's; a strip club in southeast Portland.
I say hi to my friend, Ryan, and wish him a belated happy birthday. The bar was dark and empty with the exception of two strippers casually walking around the stage. I start to drink while Ryan and I bullshit about people we have collectively grown to know during the 25 years we've been friends. After an hour at the bar I notice the DJ booth and ask Ryan if I can play and announce songs for the two girls since a lone customer had made his way up to the "rack," or the stage where the dancers perform.
"These girls work for your tips and your tips alone!"
The DJ booth had the traditional dual CD arrangement with a mixing board. It also sported a computer with an enormous library of music. Using Windows Media Player, the DJ can queue up songs in advance and let the girls dance to them and simply announce the dancers' names and remind the customers to tip everyone. I grab the microphone and start throwing out the traditional lines and cheesy DJ voice I've heard strip club DJs use. "These girls work for your tips and your tips alone!" "The girls only strip for your tips... no greenery no scenery!" Etcetera, etcetera.
Apparently my over the top parody of every strip club DJ I've ever heard for the last 12 years sounded, well, like a real DJ. Ryan asked me if I'd like to work Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings. I said I'd have to think about it. The negative social stigma of such an occupation. Who would want to date someone that works in a strip club? I didn't need the money. It would be a fun job, especially if I got to work with Ryan, my childhood friend since the age of 6. I contemplated the decision over my fourth Jack and diet Coke when I noticed the CD players both had some setting in place where the display read "REMAIN SINGLE." Someone who knows anything about CD DJ systems knows what that means. I have no fucking idea. I did however take it as a sign that I should quit trying to date girls, in fact remain single, and work at this club.
NEXT INSTALLMENT: THE UNFORESEEN ALLURE OF THE STRIP CLUB DJ.
