Monday Blues
This review is actually going to cover two nights, Monday and Wednesday. Monday I got there about 12:30am (okay, technically Tuesday), Wednesday a little after 10pm. And on a side note, I'm not entirely sure who "People" is referring to with the question "How were the People?" Is referring to the staff? The customers?
Fargo has the dubious distinction of being the largest city in the shit-hole state of North Dakota. It also has the distinction of having the only strip joint in this shit-hole state. In fact, I don't think there is another club within maybe 150 miles of Fargo, which makes it a sellers' market, pretty much giving it license to charge prices of an actual big city.
The Northern is a pretty well kept up club. The bathroom might get a bit messy at times, but from what I've seen, the staff keeps the place clean throughout a shift and bouncers keep a tight lid on any potential trouble, not that I've seen any there.
Entering the Northern, immediately to the right is a staircase down to the Fallout Shelter, the restaurant of the place. It's only open, as I remember, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. The rest of the time it's gated and locked off. Directly past that is where they collect cover fees -- $8. Not really too bad. They scan your ID, checking it against that list of ne'er-do-wells banned from the club for one reason or another; that list used to be on a clipboard, and I think they just installed this system this past year.
Just past this point are the double doors into the club proper. The very first thing, right there on the right, is the DJ booth. Along that same wall and defined by a railing is the bottle-service area; it's terraced with two levels and probably a dozen tables.
Almost directly across from the double doors is the stage, a small thrust stage with a single spinning pole, a mirrored back, and what I consider a toy chandelier dangling over it. Yeah. Real touch of class there. Down that wall to the left are the aforementioned bathrooms, both men's and women's.
At the far wall to the left is where the fun happens -- okay, what fun can be had in this baby bible belt. Pretty much in the center of that wall is the cashier for the dances; he also has all of the monitors in front of him for the overhead cameras in both dancing areas. Immediately to the cashier's left is a door to the outside smoking area and to the left of that a curtained-off area where lap dances take place. It's been a while since I've been in that area, but if I remember right, it's basically a bench, long enough for maybe six or eight guys. There might be another bench across from it, but I don't remember. The initial lap dance is $25 -- five to the house, twenty to the dancer. If you want more than one lap dance, just keep feeding the dancer twenties.
To the right of the cashier is the VIP area, probably a dozen booths of varying sizes, from being able to handle one customer and one dancer to one customer and three, maybe even four dancers. (I don't think I've ever noticed more than one customer in a booth.) It's $125 for every 15 minutes in this area -- actual big-city prices -- and there aren't any bargains here. A full hour will cost $500 plus whatever tip you want to give the dancer. The breakdown here is $25 to the house and $100 to the dancer. This is also were I most often saw the server.
Immediately to the left of the main entrance is a small casino, with three or four blackjack tables and four or five electronic pull-tab machines. Then to the left of that is the bar; I guess you could call it horse-shoe shaped. I wound up getting my drinks myself (where the server was at, I don't know, but I did see her milling around both nights) -- $2 for a glass of Coke with a lot of ice. I don't drink, so I can't offer any information on that front but the Northern has specials pretty often, at least per their website.
There are probably a dozen or so small, round tables with fairly comfortable chairs (complete with rolling coasters) dotted throughout the main floor of the club. Taller, round tables with accompanying bar stools line a couple walls, and those same stools line the bar. There's no tip rail at the stage per se, but it doesn't folks from scooting up in their chairs and tossing a few bucks to the dancers.
Considering it's a topless, no-touch, well-policed, and -- oy -- pricey club, it's small wonder why dancers come here from across the country. Seriously. Just the past couple weeks or so, I've met dancers from New Jersey, California, and Alaska.
Monday night was dead. Dancers outnumbered customers two or three to one. One dancer was of African descent, the other six or seven white. In the hour and half I was there, I saw dancers take the stage. They were dancing two-song sets, with the second song being time to get topless. That first dancer -- a brunette in her mid-30s maybe -- didn't even bother to do that; she walked around the stage, did some token twerking, and call it a set; pretty much a next-to-no energy set. She hit me up for a dance with the perfunctory "Want a dance?" I declined.
The second -- the last dancer of the night -- was a damn cute little blonde with a nice little all-natural body, who actually did dance and who actually got topless. I tipped her three bucks at the stage, then went back to VIP with her for a half hour, which closed out the night. Her grinding and sliding were pretty decent and enjoyable for this old fart, enough to inspire some cheerleader fantasies for the drive home.
Wednesday night, the customer-to-dancer ratio was pretty much reversed; I'm guessing maybe two or so customers for every dancer. Stage dances were more frequent, the energy was up, and the customers were there and willing. Out of about a dozen dancers I saw working the club, three wiere AAs, the rest white. A couple of customers even scooted up to the tip rail and made it rain; okay, maybe more like a light sprinkle but the fun was there for both them and the dancers.
One of the stage dancers was from Monday night, that brunette, and she did get topless this time -- which really made me glad I didn't go back with her. Her boob job gave her a push-up bra look when clothed but didn't look the least bit appealing when topless; and lets not get into just how her nipples were situated. Ugh. Another stage dancer had what's probably a decent boob job -- under normal lighting. Under the colored lights wandering around the stage, the scar tissue showed up pretty well.
I went back to the VIP three times, a half hour each time, damn my lack of willpower anyway. The first was with the aforementioned little blonde. The grinding, the sliding, and the shin jobs were all still good, but I had the impression she was getting tired and bored by the end. In fact, she had checked her phone and called it a half hour maybe a minute before the monitor came back to ask if we wanted any more time. The second was an East-European brunette, pretty much a girl-next-door type with a laid-back attitude and nice, all-natural figure. The third was also an East-European brunette, with a more petite but still really nice all-natural figure; her face sort of reminded me of Olivia Wilde, just narrower.
A little bit later, the GND girl hit me up for another dance, and during that brief conversation, she mentioned that she and the Olivia Wilde girl were friends. Thoughts of a threesome were dancing frantically in my head, but I had to call it a night; I still had an hour drive home ahead of me. Argh.
Will I go back? Do pigeons shit on cars?
I'm seriously expecting my credit card to file rape charges in the morning. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bang my head on something very, very hard -- repeatedly.
