Sep. 11, 2007 - Issue #621: Sex in The City 07
Strip Club Cuisine: the hamburger or the taco?
Spare me your hipster posturing: it’s totally hot.
I can go out to shoot pool, have hot chicks bring me drinks, and when the conversation lapses I can watch naked women gyrating on stage. Why not hit three south side clubs for an appetizer, dinner and dessert voyage of discovery, all served with a side of naked breasts? Sinbad never had it so good. I began my quest at Airways Pub in Nisku. The building housed a hotel and restaurant from the original oil boom. These days, it caters to the oilpatch: a huge plywood board on the side of the road is spray-painted with “Rig Pigs Welcome.”
Past the gravel parking lot, the interior reflected the exterior. A warehouse-like space was filled with pub tables and a T-shaped stage with four brass poles and two ceiling-mounted horizontal bars. Three men in the front row were diligently trying to land coins on a big-breasted brunette’s shaved pudendum.
As I toyed with the anachronistic ash tray on my table, a bleached-blonde server approached to get me a drink. They only had Bacardi’s oddest flavours in their cooler selection, so I settled on raspberry ($5.25) and settled in to watch the end of the first dancer’s performance.
I admired her curves and the pretty face above them as she demurely wrapped her floor show blanket around her naked body and left the room. “Hotel California” blared at an uncomfortable level while I glanced over the menu. My cooler was unfortunate—syrupy sweet and refreshingly cold—but my expectations weren’t high.
Airways serves classic ’80s pub food, consisting of wings, rings and things deep-fried. There were some salads, a soup and sandwiches I hadn’t seen on a menu for years. After a brief consultation with my server, I went with the dry ribs ($8.95).
The next dancer, slender and beautiful with long dark hair and more than a hint of Métis, had begun to skip around the stage in the short time it took to prepare my ribs. I felt myself responding as she met each eye among her small audience. I nodded absently at my delivered ribs and kept watching, unconsciously moving closer to the stage. Now I know how those front-row seats filled up. Her lamé bikini top and flowing, gauzy skirt landed in a pile.
After a few minutes of licentious enthusiasm, I shook it off and returned to my red plastic basket of dry ribs. These days, an $8.95 appetizer whets the appetite and nothing more. At Airways, I found out what $8.95 worth of dry ribs looked like. The mandatory black light gave an unhealthy greenish hue to the heap.
I ploughed into the hot, moist chunks of boneless pork shrouded in their crisp exteriors. As I’m sure they expected, I ignored the token carrot and celery slices included with an optimistic tub of Ranch dressing. I never even made it down to the bed of nacho chips before I realized that this appetizer was intended to be shared with a group.
I wiped my mouth with satisfaction and left a generous tip for the ribs. I paused for a bit to admire the exotic beauty who was down to her carefully shaved glory. I dragged a few toonies along the stage and earned a smile before I left for my next venue.
I had to adjust myself a little before I could get into my car.
My pulse slowed on my way to Showgirls, where I dropped a $6 cover and paid $6.25 for a drink before I found out the kitchen was closed. I watched a statuesque blonde in Nike wear (“Just do me!”) do controlled spins around the onstage poles before I left.
On my way to my next destination, I checked out the Showgirls menu. A long appetizer list was paired with a picture of a “naughty schoolgirl,” as were the burgers and sandwiches on the other side of the page. The prices clustered on the friendly side of $10. I wouldn’t have minded trying the Terriyaki Chicken [sic] burger or the Philly cheese steak, but would have settled for the honestly described Deep-fried calamari. A steak-and-shrimp special and the Chinese food on the back were particularly inspiring.
At Diamonds Gentlemen’s Club, my last stop of the night, I found street parking and walked the block and a half to the busy club. Flashing lights and several tour buses clustered around Diamonds. After a brief wait, a handshake with the tuxedoed doorman and a $6 cover charge, I entered the strange cross between a lounge and a peeler bar.
The décor was restrained and rather fine: dark walls, furnishings and floor made a muted contrast with the soft earth tones of curtains that blocked off VIP areas. Diamond-shaped mirrors on the walls reflected steady neon and random flashes of light from the stage, which of course dominated the long, narrow space.
When I entered, a brunette was offering the beginning of her floor show to the most generous clients in the front row of seating. She settled in front of three twentysomethings in baseball caps who employed loonies to knock her promotional cards off her body. I took a table and a lovely server came to take my drink order and bring a menu.
Once the performer left the stage, one of the staff cleaned the poles and collected the change for the dancer. I found this dignified, compared to a naked woman crouching to clutch at the thrown tips. Between dancers, screens dropped from the ceiling to display the Best of YouTube and truck commercials.
My server arrived with my Mike’s Hard Lemonade ($6.25) and a menu. She mentioned that the fare was changing in the next week or so, but I was happy with the list offered. There was a surprising selection of appetizers, burgers/sandwiches, entrées and both Chinese and Japanese cuisine. Only four items popped over $10, including the 8oz steak.
Unfortunately, the kitchen was unprepared for a sushi order (in a strip club, I couldn’t resist) and I had to default to the very popular Ginger Beef ($10.50) instead.
It was then that my jaw dropped. The newest performer was a tanned young woman with long, sandy blonde hair and stunning C-cups. She wore an aquamarine and hot pink bikini top with garters and leggings of the same stretchy material. She began her set with a slow, fluid strut that challenged every libido in the room. She had barely detectable pierced nipples and what looked like a dragon partially encircling her pierced navel. How I wished I could see her ... ink more closely.
She commanded every eye in the room with slow spins around her poles and pauses in the hair-ruffling breeze of the stage’s fan.
I didn’t notice it at the time, but my entrée arrived almost immediately. The large oval plate was evenly split between a mound of white rice and an equally substantial mound of dark, crisp ginger beef. Shredded carrot and green pepper livened up the colour palette, and the flavour was all fire. It wasn’t hot, but strongly spiced and plentiful. The rice sopped up much of the pool of sauce at the bottom, which made it an additional treat.
A tiny brunette who was nearly bursting out of a black bikini kindly let me finish my meal before offering a VIP dance. Imagine how many of my fantasies she could fulfill. She would continue dancing—and more—without charge, just because she was so drawn to me and ...
Ah, who was I kidding? Vue Weekly would never pick up the tab for a lap dance. I thanked her kindly and watched her as she walked slowly away. I left soon after, dropping a bill near where the next dancer was on hands and knees in her PVC French maid’s outfit. With a final nod at the doorman, I was out.
The different strip clubs of the city offered different experiences. Airways was a classic nudie bar with solid retro cuisine. Showgirls was a decently menued dance club where they only allowed one person on the dance floor at a time. Diamonds was a lounge, with more refined lounge cuisine, full of semi- and fully naked women hired to serve and/or entertain.
The experience you choose is up to you. Just bring cash to tip the girls. V
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