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| - Our joint bachelor-bachelorette party was basically a bachelor party, plus all the men's hot wives/fiances/girlfriends in tiny black dresses. So of course, we went to a strip club. Now I tend to think that boobies promote a universal giddiness in people, male or female, so I wasn't opposed to this adventure at all.
Some guy in old downtown Vegas offers us a limo to bring us to Olympic Gardens. We're done playing craps, so why not now?
We roll in there with 20+ people. The men try to work out a deal with the hosts. The hosts tell us it will cost around $600.00 for the whole group, and that will get us VIP seating and 2 bottles. Woah, what?!? Apparently that's normal for strip clubs, but my virgin eyes were buggin!
The hosts lead us to the VIP booths near the main stage, but the only way to get us in them was to split us into two groups. There was no way to see each other or interact with each other if they did that. The view of the stage also wasn't that great. We didn't like that at all. So they take us from the main stage to the second stage, which isn't as crowded. There aren't too many dancers wandering around back there, and only one on the stage. After a while, it seemed like we were the only ones back there. For what we paid and what a group our size was prepared to spend, we were pretty irritated.
But being self-starters, after a couple guys at the table got lap dances ($20 a song), we picked up all of our bottles and glasses and moved to the main stage. We managed to find enough tables and chairs for all of us. Two dancers on stage, and lots wandering around. Perfect.
After that, we were pretty much able to do whatever the heck we wanted. I don't know what I expected strippers to look like, but I think that there were only two that matched my expectations. I thought I would see a lot more curvacious figures. I was surprised to find mostly tight, gymnast-like bodies and almost flat chests, and some with just slim boyish figures. That made sense for the women who worked the pole, and were basically acrobats. There was one dancer dressed like a naughty schoolgirl who did aerials like she was a member of Cirque du Soleil, and just worked OG on the weekends for shoe money. She was absolutely incredible. But besides her, there was probably only one person who I would pay $20 to keep in my direct line of sight for 3-4 minutes at a time. Your tastes may vary.
I am told by the men in our group that Olympic Gardens is one of the nicer strip clubs in Vegas. The only strip clubs I have in my memory to compare to this one are seedy clubs (read: brothels) in Spain staffed by women who were very obviously trafficked from South America, so this did seem pretty nice by comparison. But I was expecting this place to feel luxurious, and it definitely did not feel that way.
I also learned a very important lesson on this adventure. Ladies, if you've been objecting to that bachelor party your significant other is about to throw or have thrown for him, listen up. Strip clubs are not about sex. Not even a little bit. They are not about sexiness or making men feel sexy. They are EVERY inch about, like every other game in Vegas, separating a person from his money. It just so happens boobs are a very efficient way to do it.
I put it out there that I am a feminist. I do wonder and worry about the exploitation in commercial sex work and all that goes on behind the scenes. But I tell ya, when I was in there, it definitely felt like the women had all the power in the room.
And by the way, you probably will not be shocked to learn that the guys did not offer the fact that there was a male stripper section of Olympic Gardens until after our party left.
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