Strippers Love Donuts, and Other Essential Life Lessons

"…The shocking thing about any stripper gathering, I discovered, was that you have never heard women talk so fast and so explicitly about money in all your life. They make the guys on the trading floor on Wall Street look like a bunch of pansies." - Susie Bright, Big Sex Little Death: A Memoir

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It took me approximately four days to end up in a Mexican strip club. Keep in mind this was not at all my intention, I mean it, stop laughing. I had gone out to a local restaurant/bakery called Renee's for some of their divine pastries in anticipation of an evening figuring out how to get my car, laden with tons of shit as it is, from here to Rio Bravo and a proper bank branch.

[[I confess that any poor choices made may... may have had something to do with this. The tequila, not the cat food.]]

[[Seems legit.]]

After leaving the bakery, with my nice leather satchel full of pastries, a gentleman accosted me offering me a free beer and a free lap dance if I followed him to the local club. I tried to explain that a bag full of groceries was not how I generally liked to meet attractive women in a strip club. Its not really my idea of a 'meet cute'. Mine would be more along the lines of getting a prostitute friend to go down on her boyfriend in a public restroom then pointing it out to her and offering her comfort/revenge sex from there, you know, like a proper gentleman.

[[Teeming with girls and customers, Wednesday afternoon is clearly when the action is.]]

The man was pushy, but I have a hard time turning down free booze, and worse case scenario I could always share my pastries with the strippers, so I went in. The club reminded me of every cheap strip joint in the US, better than someplace like 'The Cricket Lounge' but not as classy as, well, a classy strip club. The girl he brought me was named 'Camera', which we had a good laugh about when she found out I was a photographer. She was very sweet, and thanked me profusely when I told her she didn't actually have to dance, she could just hang out and chat. Which we did, through the miracle of Google Translate.

[[The club proper, from my vantage point, I preferred to be in the back to better observe the girls and clientele.]]

[[Camera! Rather a nice girl, who appreciated not having to dance in spiked heels for a little while.]]

Camera was very sweet, and very attractive, so we ended up having a few beers, bullshitting about the club business, and, yes, eating some very fine pastries. She seemed suspicious when I offered her baked goods, but when she found out they were from Renee's she was excited to dig in. Their pastries are so good they even wear down the defenses of jaded Mexican strippers. There's a slogan to put on the sign.


After a few drinks I bid Camera a fond farewell and headed back to the main street to get back to the motel, and to do something about the desperate rumbling in my stomach. Beer is fine, but its no substitute for real food. Which I soon discovered thanks to a friendly man, his well stocked taco cart, and a rotating spit full of al pastor that would make the most observant Jew or Muslim reconsider their life choices.

[[The meat was still making a strange whimpering sound, like it was imported from vegan hell.]]  

Full of booze, strange chemicals, and a camera full of strange photos from inside a Mexican strip club I decided to retire to finish making an evening of it with my cat. Poor thing doesn't get to party nearly as much as she likes in our current living situation.

That will soon change, if the Old Man is with me I will be down in the Yucatan taking possession of a fully furnished condo in a swank part of town for an utterly stupid price. The owner, a nice retiree, is sick of renting short term to tourists and the idea of a long term lease to a quiet alcoholic writer and his adorable cat seems to make her very happy. Hopefully Coyote is with me on this one, as this place would make a nice base of operations for several years to come. Also, hopefully she doesn't end up in handcuffs spending a weekend in county like my last landlord experienced just days after I left the state of Pennsylvania. Sometimes Christmas comes early, even for degenerate atheists like myself.

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This post and its original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico, tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to your screen by viewers like you. Thank you.

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