My four-week vacation started with an Official Girls Night Out (Terrible way, I know). At least that's what the recording said when I called Zelda's Nightclub in Palm Springs to reserve a table for three.
I'd been to a strip club once, for a bachelorette party, at Hollywood Men, many moons ago. I knew there was nothing to fear (ie. ugly dudes with long hair forcing their junk in your face) as long as I didn't wave dollar bills in the air. And luckily, my girls Maria and Susanna agreed that it would be innocent fun. The plan was further encouraged when I explained that the place would turn into a club after the show.
The entrance was free before 10pm and you bet that we arrived on time. A big guy with a ponytail escorted us to our Reserved table and we quickly got started with a round of Patrón shots. Those were immediately followed by Mai Tais and a Long Island Iced Tea; we had to start early to burn it off by the time we hit the road, Jack.
We watched several Bachelorette parties on the dance floor as we settled in. We were surprised to see a fair amount of guys in the club since it was Girls Night Out. Don't get me wrong, I knew there would be guys, mostly gay ones, before the club started. I just expected the straight ones after the show. Susanna was quick to point out a dude that resembled my former romantic partner, thus making it a given to keep him at arm's length. We were getting ready to join the ladies on the floor when a tap on my shoulder blade made me turn around. It was a guy, a short one who came up to my shoulders, maybe. He wanted me to dance with him. Because the music was so loud, I was forced to come in close proximity to his face and explained that I'd just arrived and was having a blast with my girlfriends right now, maybe later, thank you. I wasn't out to destroy egos, either.
I worried Little Guy would be persistent once he saw us dancing but Maria, Susanna, and I were left alone. I suggested we purchase a Bachelorette kit and start taking turns wearing it when we went out. That way, we could always receive special treatment, like free drinks or desserts or maybe even a lapdance. Susanna warned that people might catch on if we began to frequent certain establishments often. But I told her it'd be safe to say we were on to husband #2, then #3, etc.
We danced until Big Ponytail Guy kicked us out because the show was about to begin. We hollered and screamed until three fat men without rhythm appeared in cowboy attire dancing a number. Maria and I laughed so hard because we could not believe they were the ones who were supposed to strip for us in a bit. I leaned in and asked her, "Did they just pick up these men off the corner?" I continued cracking up out of embarrassment for their choreography and was beyond grateful we hadn't paid to get into what was now a comedy show more than anything else.
We danced until Big Ponytail Guy kicked us out because the show was about to begin. We hollered and screamed until three fat men without rhythm appeared in cowboy attire dancing a number. Maria and I laughed so hard because we could not believe they were the ones who were supposed to strip for us in a bit. I leaned in and asked her, "Did they just pick up these men off the corner?" I continued cracking up out of embarrassment for their choreography and was beyond grateful we hadn't paid to get into what was now a comedy show more than anything else.
After the "tease," the choreographer/announcer made small talk with all the ladies in the club; he was obviously stalling a wardrobe change. He designated the area we were sitting Erection Section and proceeded to give the rest other sexual terms. Then he came back around to ask where we had come from and what had brought us in. When he finished fishing details from the white-girl bachelorette party on our left, he came toward us speaking a few phrases in Spanish. It was obvious he was utilizing the Spanish he had learned in high school 30 or 40 years ago. Since we had already been stereotyped, Maria went along with it and told him we were from Guatemala. He then gave props to the Central American country and we cheered with him. When asked what we were celebrating, I told him it was simply ladies night. He joked that meant we told our boyfriends and husbands that we were at a Tupperware party.
While he finished making the rounds, Maria pointed out the baby-faced security standing guard. He stood at the edge of the dance floor as if trying to block us from from running, jumping, and getting a feel of one of their strippers at any moment. He ended up dancing with us later that night.
Once the choreographer/announcer got his fill of attention, the show continued. Two men dressed in black appeared and once again, we were quick to point out how fat one of them was. After their skit, only one of them remained on the floor. He was the one who ended up stripping. While he covered up his thong with boxer briefs, Big Ponytail Guy brought out a chair that resembled a vintage one from a dentist office. If you waved a five dollar bill in the air, we were told, the baby-faced security would escort you to the Big Bad Red Chair where you could meet Stripper up close and personal. Maria quickly busted out the money and waved it over Susanna. The rest is history. None of us, and I mean none of us, were immune.
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| Female shall remain anonymous :p. So shall Stripper. |
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| Wooooooooooo! |
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| Good times. |
The music started playing after most of us had a piece of Coachella Valley's Magic Mike and in the words of Flo Rida, we hit the floor. A guy with a tattoo across his collar bone peering through his shirt asked me to dance. I said no. He asked if maybe later. Very unconvincingly I said, maybe. Later that night he came up to Susanna and she declined his offer as well. Which was a good thing because Neck-Tattoo Guy was mine first and I was prepared take her down.
Stripper also came around, danced with Susanna, and swept her away. Maria and I ran to our table, grabbed our stuff, and followed them up a set of stairs, aka the VIP Lounge. Stripper led us to the DJ booth where we had a full view of the club below.
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| Thanks, Susanna, for your good looks. It got us to the top! |
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| VIP status |
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| Foot scratching. |
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| A la Miley Cyrus |
A while later, we went back to the dance floor. We danced until our feet betrayed us. As Susanna and I walked Maria to her car, a fight between egos broke out near my car directly in front of the club. We sought refuge in Maria's vehicle until it was over which of course led to a conversation because that's what happens when you put a minimum of two girls together in any given space. When you add the chat Susanna and I had when I dropped her off, it totaled up to 4:30am.
And that's how we roll.
Next stop, WeHo.
Oh yeah, Happy Birthday, Sophia!!!
