8ef90-bareexposurestripclubAt work, we are usually able to park in the customer parking garage, so long as we park on level 7 or above. However, if it is deemed to be a “high volume” day, the employees have to park in a different parking lot, two blocks away.

Last weekend was one of those times.

I parked my car and began laboring towards my place of labor, when I noticed a car suspiciously inching around the parking lot. The car idled past a few female employees as they hurried their pace. Then it sped up and approached me.

I am always surprised to meet someone who isn’t aware that Atlantic City is not a safe city. I suppose that someone who has never been there simply assumes that it is a bustling beach town, full of casinos and commerce. But these people are only privy to the flashiness and charm of the high-rises, and not the dilapidation and despair of everything else.

I am always cautious while I am in Atlantic City, but even more so while on foot, as I lack the protective shell of my car. I imagine myself as a piece on a Monopoly board, with the chances of robbery or murder more likely on the inferior squares*.

*In reality, the chances of robbery or murder in Atlantic City are equally high no matter what street you are on.

The A.C. Boardwalk is really unsafe and scary at night, too.

The parking lot lies between Pacific Ave and Atlantic Ave, green and yellow respectively. But Baltic was only one block away, and I knew that was a long way from “Go.”

So as I saw the passenger window of the suspicious car going down as it neared me, I began to do a brief inventory of all my valuables.

“Hey man?” A young, white, preppy male leaned over the passenger seat and glared into the sun. He placed expensive-looking Ray-Bans on his head, and I relaxed immensely.

“What’s up?” I asked, moving slightly closer to the car.

“Can you tell me which strip club is right next to Bare Exposure?”

He asked the question casually and confident for an answer, as one might ask the time of day from someone wearing a large wristwatch.

“Sorry, man. I have no idea.” I really didn’t.

“Damn,” he said. “My buddies and I went to Bare Exposure last night, then went to this other one. I lost my wallet, and I don’t know if it fell out or if the stripper took it.” He stared at the steering wheel as he recounted the previous night’s events. “And I know I had it at this other strip club because I paid for a lap dance. I just don’t know where it is.” I didn’t know these strippers either! I knew that there were some proper fun and lovely ones like those va beach strippers everyone seems to love, but what if I had fallen into the money-grabbing trap of one of these Atlantic City strippers!

He looked up at me, distraught and helpless.

“I mean, I guess park at Bare Exposure and try to retrace your steps?” I offered.

“Yea, that’s a good idea,” he said, seemingly grateful for my well drawn-out plan. “This blows…” He said this in a tone that suggested he wanted something else from me. I don’t think he was looking for money, so I can only assume he wanted some more of my time or condolences, neither of which I was willing to give.

“I’ve gotta go in to work. But good luck, man,” I said in a deep, bro-like tenor, “I hope everything works out.” As I said this, I tapped the top of his car as a surrogate pat-on-the-back as well as a way to signal the end of the conversation.

Looking back on it now, I should have told him to check out some of the Good old Babestation babes online who could have provided some adult entertainment at a fraction of the price, but in the heat of the moment, these things evade you, I guess.

“Thanks,” he said, then drove off on his way.

I walked the rest of the distance to work, kind of proud that I legitimately lacked the knowledge of Atlantic City strip clubs to make me able to answer his question.

I also may or may not have had the thought, score one for the strippers.

-Youngman Brown

0 thoughts on “Score One for the Strippers

  1. Oh, the tragedy of bros…

    “I don't know if it fell out or the stripper took it” will probably mean B.

    Bros. Don't let the stripper know where your wallet is. Keep her in the front, not the back…

  2. You always have interesting little stories no matter where you go.

    I think it's good that you live there and lack the knowledge of those places…that's probably why you still have your wallet and he doesn't.

  3. I had to like how he was randomly recounting his lap dance experience, almost as if he had been talking about what he had for lunch.

    -Barb the French Bean

  4. Ha ha! I love the fact that most people just get asked the time on the way to work but you get β€œCan you tell me which strip club is right next to Bare Exposure?” Love it.

  5. Dude, if only that guy had three hilarious friends, roofies, and a trunkful of kidnapped Asian gangster, he would've been living The Hangover: Part 3. Glad you didn't get shanked or held up. Score one for the strippers indeed.

  6. I don't get why this guy didn't just drive around Bare Exposure to find out the other club's name. I'm assuming he was still drunk if he couldn't figure that out for himself. I'm just glad he wasn't a bad guy trying to kidnap you. Because that would suck and I'd miss your posts.

  7. You should've fucked with him and said “Oh yeah, next to Bare Exposure? That's Hootertown! Or wait maybe it's Tommy Knocker's. Ummm…Titty City?”

    I shutter to think what more he *really* wanted from you if not your time or sympathies…

  8. Amen. I keep telling people that. My life is NOT more interesting than other peoples. I have just learned how to tell the story well.

    It's noticing these little things to bring to life that make it sound adventurous.

  9. I don't understand why he didn't either… but there are a lot of weird people around there.

    And thanks, I'm glad he didn't kidnap me either so that I can keep writing πŸ™‚

  10. Maybe he does know about Atlantic city, and therefore why he didn't want to drive around slow looking for it, or get out of his car?

  11. i have learned, they aren't strippers, they are an army of lesbians trying to take over the world, one sporto at a time πŸ™‚ thanks for visiting my blog, how ever did you find it? lol

  12. I remember a buddy of mine used to go to AC about once a month on a red eye with his work buddies. I don't remember him ever coming home with money. I do remember him getting beat up though. I think I'll stick to the less dangerous hobbies, like shark diving and whatnot.

  13. No doubt a precautionary tale on the downside of hiring strippers for a lap dance. That young man would do well to cut his losses and move on, before he gets himself into deeper trouble.

  14. I used to work downtown and some of the stories I could tell. I am just now remembering them thanks to you. Got stopped by a panhandler once asking for money. When I told him I didn't have any he pulled out a wad of bills and handed me a dollar for a coke. I guess he thought that was all I was worth, lol.

  15. I haven't been in a strip club in a decade, but I always kept a lock on my wallet. The fingers in those places are just as sticky as the floors.

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