New York is the best city in the country. Commerce, activities, and tons of hot, smart people.
…but NYC (specifically Manhattan) has the WORST STRIP CLUBS EVER. I blame Giuliani. Topless only and infested with entitled bitches who get so much green from bored hedgefund guys, they think you need to pay their rent to get a titty in your face.
(It’s nearly Halloween, so every stripper had a terrible costume on. I think this was supposed to be a Russian nurse whore.)
VIP was particularly bad. On a Saturday night, they boast 32-40 strippers (I asked management) and about 20 patrons at any given time. There’s nothing more off-putting than walking into a club and feeling the palpable, “how am I gonna buy my illegitimate child diapers with these shitty tips?” discontentment of the girls on the floor.
But the best/worst thing about VIP? The bartender. This bitch was so fucked up. I ordered my friend a vodka and grapefruit, and she poured it in separate glasses. Immediately after serving us our drinks, she dove into the olives in the garnish tray on the bar.
…I wasn’t kidding. Bitch was scooping olives out of the tray and into her mouth with her bare hands while we laughed hysterically inches from her. This wasn’t an alcohol-related wastedness…pills or heroin, I’m guessing.
The only reason I’m not giving this shithole an “F” is because the management was extremely nice and gave us free passes when we left.
I almost forgot to post about Playmates Club, the club that started this magical journey of mine. Playmates is way the fuck down in South Miami, which means that unless I were already down there for some reason, I’d visit one of the 20 closer clubs and avoid the 836/LeJeune/suicide.
Playmates Club should not be mistaken for Playmates Lounge, a crime against strip clubs next door to a fucking bait shop in Pompano. I can best describe the club as Tootsies-lite. The place is big and has a steady stream of bitches, but it’s manageable. You can watch the same bitch all night if you so choose. The drinks are pricey for a club in this location, but the cover’s only $5. The clientele is more black and Latino than you’ll find in any club outside of KoD, Take 1, and Secrets, which is cool. All races like pussy…except for Asians and Arabs, who I rarely see at any clubs.
The girls are decent. Not as hot as you’ll find in Tootsies or Scarlett’s, but they’re more authentic. Lots of 6″ lucite heels and impressive pole tricks. The occasional c-section scar. They all fucking ignored me (again, I’m female), which means they’re used to men bringing women who are just there to appease them.
It’s aight…as long as you don’t have a long drive home.
Do you like your strip club to be NASDAQ listed? If so, Tootsies is for you.
Tootsies, a longtime Miami institution, moved from a small strip mall location to what was once a BJ’s Warehouse Club store…and they used the whole space. The interior looks like the New York, NY Hotel and Casino in Vegas, but with ass and titties flopping around everywhere.
There are multiple restaurants on site (including a knockoff Hooters aptly called “Knockers”) and enough bar space and big screens to make it a viable game-watching venue. And on football Sundays, the proximity to Sun Life Stadium means the joint is filled with middle aged dudes in Dolphins gear (“Just going to the game, Honey!”)
There are plasma monitors listing all the dancers on the floor at any given time, so stalking Charisma and Destiny is virtually effortless. I’ve been told by employees that dancing at Tootsies is so profitable that a substantial portion of them drive in from Tampa on the weekends.
There’s a chill, lounge-y second level, as well.
The girls here are the hottest in Dade, and judging by the amount of gaping asshole you see on stage, it’s a safe bet that lots of these girls are also pounded regularly on camera (Miami, of course, being home to Reality Kings and Bang Brothers.)
It’s the fucking Epcot of strip clubs, basically.
(Following entry courtesy of The Silk Maniac.)
As the acid was beginning to grip our minds, armed with the memory of a brief foray into Cheeks from the night before, it became apparent to us that we would need to spend at least some of our trip in the second most celebrated light show in town. We had already taken in, with great delight, the starry sky.
Cheeks is the only strip club that any locals Mcould name in Santa Fe. It exists on the only seedy patch of real estate I saw in town, and boasts a full parking lot that accommodates the strip club and a bar next door, which has a regular traffic of characters intimidating enough to deter exploration (at least on acid.) Continue Reading