So much strange & crazy

One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live

Details and the titty bar.

NOV. 25, 2010 – 2 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING

MexiDan – one of three Dans in the UBC economic masters’ program 2010 – is meticulous in his planning.

CanaDan (the fellow with whom I’m travelling) and I stayed at his family’s condo on South Padre Island for two spectacular days, soaking in the sun, salt water and heat.

Two other Canadian wedding guests arrived today along with CanaDan and I, and MexiDan ensured that we were with his family for the Mexican-style American Thanksgiving.

Indeed, we had a turkey. But instead of sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie we had paella and some beefy-sausagey thing. There was wine to wash down the dinner, but pre-dinner drinks consisted of tequila to sip, not shoot.

The company was lovely, and I got to know MexiDan’s beautiful family and his friends.

The four Canadians left the house pleasantly loopy and happy to be in the southern part of our continent.

We left at an hour which would have given plenty of rest to the family and us for a jam-packed few days, heading to the hotel which MexiDan booked for us prior to our arrival.

It doesn’t mean we took the opportunity to hit the bed.

* * *

The four new graduates, having skipped their convocation this evening by taking this trip, decided to celebrate.

Someone shouted “titty bar!” and off we went.

Now I have spent some time in strip clubs. I don’t really enjoy them, but friends of mine do. As I lived in Ottawa for five years, my friends would frequent Québec’s strip clubs, the dirtiest strip clubs around.

Or so I thought.

On walking past a set of burly bodyguards, we found a dark, dingy room with low-ceilings, where women were giving men lap dances (and more).

A very young-looking woman with a slight body contorted her body on stage, sliding up and down a pole and gyrating on the floor, wearing nothing but a G-string.

A crew of women slouched on a back bench, slouching and whispering to each other.

The women were almost outnumbered by the men, standing by with gruff looks, waiting for any customer to avoid a bill or cause a scene.

CanaDan, being the dashing young gentleman, was a hot-ticket item for the ladies who soon rushed over. He, however, took a seat and claimed he was gay. His friend used me as his shield, claiming that I was his girlfriend. The other new graduate, on the other hand, excitedly buried his face in big breasts.

There was no washroom for women – understandably – so one of the strippers led me by hand to their bathroom. Shit-streaked toilet paper sat amongst nastier items in the garbage bin.

As I left the toilet, I noticed that the dressing room was not only messed with colourful clothing, but was manned by an old and hefty matron. Her face wore a look similar to the men outside, and her ruffled voice chastised the stripper for bringing me to their private spot.

The blue-bikini clad woman led me back to our table with a sparkle in her eye. She went back to her attempt to get the uninterested men interested.

My travel partner continued to be harassed by the ladies who didn’t believe his proclamations of homosexuality, while his enthusiastic friend was screaming into the chests of the two women sitting on his lap.

We were there about half an hour when one of the burly men took the women on the friend’s lap aside to talk to them about the bill. While they were chatting, one of his lady’s pulled her black tank top over her slightly protruding belly, lined by stretch marks.

Total cost for half an hour of boobage: 1,700 pesos.

But really, that experience was priceless.

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This entry was posted on December 31, 2010 by in Travel Tales and tagged , , , , , .
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