The following post contains adult material and I do not apologize for this. If you don't want to read it, stop here. Please know any criticism will be ignored and may result in my exasperation and you being shunned.
You've been warned.
The three Americans have stuck together and have bonded over our foreign experiences so far. The Belgian fellow in our group travels home each weekend and the French guy spends every weekend with his sister, so we're on our own with our limited knowledge of this culture. Sometimes they'll offer suggestions, but mostly we wander about and play tourist.
Last week, the two guys mentioned they stopped by an American restaurant and the food was 'weird' so they didn't eat there. We were immediately interested about a taste of home and peppered them with questions. Apparently, the menu had pictures of the food and usually that means it's for children or is a low class place. (It looked just like a Denny's menu or any other number of familiar diners.) Additionally, the food was strange to them, but sounded great to us! Chili dogs, messy burgers, grilled cheese sandwiches, burritos--a greasy slice of heaven. Maybe it is owned by ex-pats and we could talk Monday Night Football with someone who didn't think it was Monday Night Futbol! (That was a sad trick, we thought this game night was NFL, but it was soccer.) The guys gave us the location and we set out to find this mecca.
I was struck by all of the decorations and STUFF hanging on the outside and inside walls. It was kind of like the Hard Rock or The Bear, with memorabilia covering every inch. There was a giant neon Elvis waving us in, a movie prop Frankenstein in a glass case, a stuffed lion, life size pirates; so many things it was a little overwhelming. The hostess said there was a show about to start upstairs, but we asked for a seat at the bar so we could be seated without waiting. It was full of people so we thought this was a good sign. Downstairs was sushi and karaoke, a bizarre mix of levels.
Looking at the drink prices, we saw that we could have a drink and attend the show for only five more euros. The hostess said it was an authentic American dance show, with go-go dancers. Visions of Las Vegas in the seventies, of Austin Power movies swirled through our heads, so we decided to go for it.
Imagine the look on our faces, two ladies and one shocked fella, when we discovered that American go-go dancers were co-ed strippers. After our initial shock, we burst out laughing and decided to stick around. I don't really have any experience relating American strip clubs, but there were some differences than in the movies. No one tipped, which is more of a culture thing, but I've always thought you do. A and I were the only women in the beginning, but even when the male dancers came out, the crowd of men in their twenties still cheered and clapped to the music, respecting them. It was more subdued than the cheers for the women, but I thought it was nice.
Since we were the only women, we received 'special' attention. The female dancers would make eye contact and faces at us, like "can you believe these jackals?" And we were "lucky" enough to be called on stage.
Most of you know I have germ related issues, and frankly, I'm a little uptight. When this 6'5, extremely muscular black man pulled me on stage, all I could think was "Breathe, Micheb!! Don't be that girl who causes a scene. Be cool, Be cool!!" He lifted me up with one arm and I hissed "be careful, I'm heavy!" and he hushed me, laughing. Behind me, my companions were roaring with laughter as I gave them crazy eyes and my body froze. After some insane feats of strength where I channeled CHS cheer Coach Mary (how she prepared the flyers for being tossed), he set me on a chair and did his dance. The crowd was cheering and my friends told me I looked like a deer-in-the-headlights, but I was thinking that I didn't have enough hand sanitizer with me to rub on my arms. Mercifully, our song ended, he kissed my hand and shooed me off stage.
I weakly walked back to my chair and shakily said, "so that just happened," setting my friends off into more peals of laughter.
It was so ridiculous and one of those memories we'll have for ages. Now we know what go-go dancers mean, but I pity the French men who think a typical American diner will have them on staff.
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