On the 508 podcast, Mike mentioned that it used to be that people didn’t blog on Thanksgiving, but that that’s changed with more Internet availability.
I was driving the other day and noticed that the Centerfold’s** on Route 20 will be open on Thanksgiving starting at 6pm.
There’s a parallel in there somewhere…
So, in honor of Turkey Day, here’s my strip club story.
When I was in my early 20s, I was fascinated by the fact that certain strip clubs would advertise their meal options in the paper. There was one place that offered a $10 prime rib special on Wednesdays. This really depressed me, because I don’t eat meat on Wednesdays, so I was never going to be able to try that special. I suppose I was blocking out the whole “having to eat meal while watching skinny chicks with big bosoms” aspect of things. My then-boyfriend and I had a running joke about prime rib dinners*** and amateur night****.
So, one day, my then-boyfriend and I were driving down Route 20. There are basically three types of businesses along that stretch of Route 20: strip clubs, car dealerships, and boat dealers/storage. (I am still not sure which type “Dario is Diesel” falls under.)
My boyfriend parked at the border of a used car dealership and a strip club. (I believe the strip club was Centerfold’s, but it could have been called Pudgy’s at the time.) The strip club sign announced that it was amateur night.
He tells me to get out of the car. I start flipping out and tell him I’m not getting out of the car and he’s not going to make me participate in amateur night.
“Nicole! The station wagon I want to show you is right over there!”
It only took him shouting that a couple of times for me to realize that we were just going to check out a Buick wagon and that he hadn’t even noticed the strip club. He probably realized at that point that I had watched way too many Lifetime movies about men who coerce their girlfriends into lives of prostitution for my own good.
I think it’s a sign of his forbearance that he decided to marry me, even after that.
**This is the English major in me coming out, but it should really be either “Centerfolds’ ” or just plain “Centerfolds.” I know it’s too much to ask, but if Hurricane Betty’s can get the possessive right, why can’t Centerfold’s?
***I have an uncle who used to eat lunch every day at the Lamplighter (now Hurricane Betty’s). His reason? “Good turkey club.” So I think the whole fascination with eating-at-a-strip-club-for-the-food is at least partly genetic.
****I used to commute to Boston every day by train. One afternoon, I was on the train with a young woman who worked as a stripper at the Crystal Palace, and she said that she started in the business by doing an amateur night. It was an easy $500. She felt that a lot of women get pulled into that business with a comparatively easy amateur night.