Twenty One
It’s Saturday night and I’m standing in line with a co-worker waiting to get into this club that
is open once a month. It bills itself as a large indoor adult entertainment playground and
promises fun for all. That sounds good to me. The majority of the people in line are young
White couples. I guess they are just looking for a night out on the town.
There are other types in line: Transvestites, homosexuals, and The Loners. Surprisingly The
Loners seem to be evenly divided between men and women. Wonderful. I think that Loner
woman over there with the blonde pig tails and glasses is cute.
We make it to the front desk and are greeted by a White homosexual man wearing very little,
and what little he is wearing consists of black leather straps. There is a big sign on the wall with
the club’s rules and as he takes our money and stamps our hands, he tells us to read them which
we do and then move on.
My coworker wants to check his coat. We go into a room decorated with day glow type art
and black light and lava lamps; He hands his coat over to the coat check girl who is really a
Black man made up like a girl.
My coworker and I head up to the third floor and walk around the simulated outdoor camping
area. There are Tee Pees set up among the plastic shrubbery as nature sounds play from the
loudspeakers. I guess the idea is for people to step inside the Tee Pees and have some fun.
I don’t understand the appeal of camping outdoors. Most of the time you end up dragging half
of civilization along with you on your back or loaded in your vehicle. Cooking supplies, extra
this and that, and even portable entertainment equipment. I say if you’re going to rough it you
should be dropped off deep in the woods totally naked without anything and try to survive.
Anything else is just faking it.