Hanging With The Sons
sinclair
Strip Club Nation
What was interesting to me was how they operate at the strip club. None of them bought any lap dances or tipped the stage throughout the night. Probably each one of them drank $100-200 in beer and alcohol throughout the night. The strip club must've loved the booze sales, but dancers seemed to avoid the Sons for the most part. Part of the reason for that may be some of the bikers had their old ladies with them. It seemed at almost any given time at least one of the Sons was outside smoking and possibly watching over their bikes. I have been to many strip clubs when biker gangs were partying, but this was the first time I saw one-percenters at a club. SFFS.
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A friend of mine from college had a weird biker-stripper experience. He and a couple of his friends somehow got invited to a biker private party. The bikers hired a stripper. During her act, she started DFKing (just) my friend. When he and his friends were ready to bounce, the stripper told them she was coming with. At first, it seemed like it was not going to get ugly. But when they got outside, one of the bikers ran out, and whacked my friend on the side of the head with a boot, that was filled with something heavy. He didn't go to the hospital, but it hurt like hell for a couple weeks. The stripper didn't fuck him. He realized that the DFKing was probably about her seeing him as her best chance of getting out of that party without getting gang raped. (He was tough looking, but actually a lit major.)
It does sound like a story a bullshitter would make up or greatly exaggerate. But bullshitters were the lowest of the low to my friend, so I don't think he'd be one himself.
According to a dancer I talked to later, they disliked the bikers because they never tipped, bought dances, or did VIPs, and took up space better occupied by paying customers.
It was weird, but never threatening. No aggressive body language, they weren't even loud or obnoxious. Someone said they occasionally hit a bunch of RI strip clubs in this fashion.
In New Jersey it used to be that when 1-percenters visited a strip bar they had to call my mother and ask permission first. Eventually she died and left me in charge. There's a few biker clubs I'm friendly with and I don't give them a hard time. The Shitheads and the Oompa Loompas are cool with me. But for the rest, the president's old lady has to blow me before they can go anywhere in Jersey.
I once coughed up a loogie that accidentally landed on Sonny Barger's Electra Glide. He said to clean it so I pissed all over his bike and told him to clean it himself. Then I took a picture of his old lady sucking my dick and mailed him a copy every week for two years.
The biggest problem we ever had was a semi-pro football team that came in one night looking for trouble. We asked them to leave and were polite about it. Having a cop at the front door also helped.
The main problem we had was the occasional college kid trying to imitate a tough guy. They were always drunk and had no idea how to fight.
I never met any 1% bikers in Chicago, but the fucking mob was everywhere I turned. The funny thing is, most of these guys were pretty cool. They didn't hide what they did, I didn't act like I knew what they did. Pool parties, Christmas parties, strip club parties- these guys invited me every time. I never understood why they liked having me around, but I never passed up free beers and the hotties they had around them. The sad part is that at least five of them died of heart attacks from heavy cocaine use or straight up OD'ed in the time I was hanging with them - all fathers. The funniest part is, except for these guys, I generally don't like Italians.