Let’s Review The Food At Strip Clubs, I Thought

Confession.

Before writing this article, the only time I’d ever visited a strip club was on Sunday night with my buddy, Tony Soprano. Until I watched HBO’s The Sopranos, the closest I had ever gotten was nearly 25 years ago. 

I was 19 and broke, working at a bar called Hog City in Fayetteville, Arkansas, late at night. I also served as a dayshift janitor, scrubbing toilets at a cantina whose name I have erased from my memory. Surely, I thought, there must be an easier way to make money than slinging drinks and getting slapped on the ass for free. 

I’d read an ad in the university newspaper about Platinum Gentleman’s Club on College Avenue. They were hiring. I called the phone number listed in the paper with the intent of asking when I could audition. I had years of experience as a ballet dancer, so what the hell?