VARIOUS SHORT STORIES
THE CASINO
Or Hanging Out with Strippers
In my summer after graduation from college, I was living in the U of M area and would often go barhopping downtown on Fridays
with two (sometimes more) friends.
We had arrived back home around 1:00 am and were hanging out chatting when the phone rang. It was my friend Tom, a musician whose
band I used to hang out with (until they broke up). He was wondering if I wanted to go to Wisconsin to a job he had that Saturday (he ran sound
for various musicians). I figured, sure, I'll hang out backstage with musicians at a concert, and packed a bag. Tom showed up at 2:00
am and off we went.
We caught up in the next hour. It was apparently a 6-hour drive, which I hadn't actually known. After chit chat, I inquired as
to which band he was doing the show for, praying for some all-day rock concert or something.
Not even close.
I was in fact headed to a casino in Wisconsin to watch him run sound for a male stripper revue show for all the lonely deer-hunter
widows on opening weekend.
I briefly contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle. Or having Tom drop me off at some desolate gas station. I mean I really
did have to think it over.
You see I'm
not a big fan of strippers. I don't have a moral aversion to them, I just find them boring. And the same thing goes for casinos, frankly. But,
in the end, I figured, What the hell, strippers here we come, and remained in the vehicle.
We arrived at the hotel, checked in, and Tom went to set up. I wandered around the casino, wandered outside, wandered through
the casino, got bored, and went to find Tom.
He was setting up his audio equipment in the middle of a large auditorium. There were hotel reps and strippers wandering around.
Fully-clothed, I might add. I just sort of sat back and observed for awhile.
I got the general plan: Hour and a half show. First show at 3:00 and second show at 7:00. After the briefing, we went to lunch
(free!) and then got everything finalized in the convention room.
My duty for the shows? Sit there and sample the cocktail selection. I took it seriously.
The show started. It was a comedienne
who would do a brief routine and then
one of the strippers would... strip. The woman was pretty funny. The stripping was dull, but the Northern 'Sconie Women loved it.
Except sound and lighting (Tom's department) was a disaster. I mean a complete and utter failure. I was embarrassed for Tom, and the comedienne
(the
brains
behind the show) was pissed. And let him know.
In between shows, I chatted up the strippers, bonded with the hotel hospitality managers, had a few more cocktails, and generally
hung out. By the second show, some of Tom's friends had shown up so I had company.
The second show: Sound was 100% better and everyone was happy. By this time I had wrangled Tom's access pass off of him and
was prowling around backstage. Onstage, the strippers were posing for polaroids for all the women and Tom was packing up. The women
that worked at the hotel and I got a free polaroid with the boys when everyone else was done.
Then Tom volunteered to help the stripper crew tear down their stuff. So we found ourselves in this backstage room with unused
machines/equipment that was a combination of a mini-golf and carnival. It was really bizarre. We were wandering around playing with everything.
The rest of the evening was spent running rampant throughout the casino with male strippers. Weirdest experience. And very nice
guys. It was funny because once they figured out you weren't there to stuff dollar bills into anything, they got chatty about their life. So
I learned a lot about their wives, girlfriends, and kids. Who knew.
The night ended
up in the hotel lobby with all the strippers and the comedienne. Who was very cool. We hit it off and ended up chatting about
Minneapolis.
Tom and I drove home the next morning, the weekend a bit of a blur.
And all I have to show for it is a postcard, a polaroid, and a backstage pass.
And my only story of hanging out with strippers.
Oh wait...
Eh, that's another story.
