I know what you’re thinking, “but Orlando, you fucking liar, you said you didn’t like strip clubs!” That opinion hasn’t changed, not exactly, but when there’s a bachelor party to be had I’m not about to pass on it based on my opinions.
Instead, it was a male baby shower.
This wasn’t strictly a bachelor party, per se, since no one was getting married. Instead, it was a male baby shower. I know that sounds unhomosexually gay, however any opportunity for a bunch of dudes to get drunk, rowdy, and talk shit over some women dancing topless is one worth taking advantage of. In truth, we went to two strip clubs that night, Scarlett’s and Tootsie’s, and I’ll review the events that transpired at Tootsie’s another time.
Some may think this violates bro-code, and it should, yet some of the guys prodded me into writing this so I’ll do as much without incrimination.
First thing’s first, this was unlike any strip club experience I have ever [non-blackout drunk] had before. The titty bars I’ve been to in the past are similar to my Booby Trap review I posted a while back. The women with the thousand-yard stare of defeat were still there, but unlike other titty bars the girls leave you alone unless you approach them.
…they resembled the kind of girls I’d hit on at the Publix checkout lane.
There were, I think, ten of us. I think that’s the right number and I’m not leaving anyone out. While a few of us were waiting outside for the guy with the reservation to show, we watched as strippers began arriving for their shift valeting their cars and walking in through the back door. That was almost a pun. Right off the bat we noticed that unlike my other strip club experiences, these girls looked good. Fully clothed, they looked great, and while still a bit strippery, they resembled the kind of girls I’d hit on at the Publix checkout lane. Once inside, that changed a little bit.
The very first thing we saw after paying our way in and having the girl at the register proceed with her prerequisite false flirtation for tips was a parade. A flesh parade. Like cattle, they literally have the girls display themselves to the entire club in a single-file line dressed in their slutty “I’m going to take this off slowly and make you jizz American currency” clothing. They walk across from end to end cutting through the middle and everyone takes a gander at who they want to take to the back for the worst $120 they’ll ever spend.
One of the guys “fell in love” with one of our corner strippers…
We sat down at our nice corner booth that had a fucking pillar cutting off the line-of-sight of half the guys there. Drinks were ordered and the women started to dance. Scarlett’s has various stages. One center stage and something like 4 side stages. We were right next to one of the side stages which, luckily for us, tended to have the more attractive women. One of the guys “fell in love” with one of our corner strippers, coincidentally the one that pulled me in between her tits and stuck her hand down the back of my pants and cupped my bare ass cheek. That was completely unexpected, and admittedly not a bad way to lose a dollar considering she was attractive enough to have one of the guys fall in love with her. A little rapey, but that’s fine.
While the atmosphere is definitely better, it’s not without its cons. First, I know strip clubs aren’t known for their olfactory titillations, but this place smelled smokier and ashier than Mt. Eyjafjallajökull smoking a cigarette in a chimney during a BBQ. Yes, I had to Google the spelling of that, and it was worth it. Plus there was a light but distinctly present aroma of vagina. Not rank or anything, to their credit it was fresh, but I’m not discounting it.
Suddenly my character gets called into question. Fuck that noise.
Also, their ATM situation. Oh man. I wanted to buy a drink for the father-to-be at the bar after we closed out our table’s tab, but I was out of cash. I didn’t want to use my card there because I didn’t want “MOTHERFUCKING TITTIES AND PUSSIES!!! – $7.23” to show up on my statement. It’s not like anyone else looks at it except me, but still, what if something comes up where I have to produce my statement as evidence and they see that shit? Suddenly my character gets called into question. Fuck that noise. Anyway, I figured I would go to the ATM and pull out the cash. They have plenty of them and they’re very accessible, that’s not the problem. The problem is they charge you $8.00 to use them. EIGHT DOLLAR SURCHARGE in addition to whatever amount your bank decides it wants to pull out of its ass that particular day. That’s ridiculous. $8.00 will feed a family of 6 for a week in Somalia and these gouging fucks are charging you that much to have their ATM’s modem give a little ring to your bank? Insanity.
Those are the major gripes. Other than that, it’s not a bad place. The girls are attractive with the exception of a couple of tranny-looking ladyboys and the occasional grandma with a boob job. They have like 70 girls though, no exaggeration, so surely you’ll find one you like. If you’re into the ladyboy types, that’s cool too I guess, they’ve got ’em for you.
If you go, make it on an occasion. “Thursday” isn’t enough of an excuse to keep you outside of sleaze territory.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 2920 SW 30 Ave
- Hallandale, FL 33009
- (954) 455-8318