I hadn’t been in since the...

I hadn’t been in since the remodeling. Center Stage, as the old Club 418 is now called, now features a high stage surrounded by bar stools in the center of the room (get it?). The stage is reasonably attractive, as seems to be the private dance area (of which I did not partake), but the ceiling is unfinished, the building tired.

So were the dancers. While I freely admit that Sunday afternoon is not the best time to visit most clubs, I thought that there might be something going on here considering how good Sunday afternoons tend to be at the mother ship, the Mardi Gras, just a hundred yards away. No such luck. There was one gorgeous, young, slim blonde on the stage when I arrived, but she vanished into the dressing room between stage sets. Of the remaining 4 dancers in evidence, they ranged from around 7 (reasonably attractive if you take off your glasses) to not-even-if-they-tipped-me. I have nothing against plus sizes, if proportioned, nor am I part of the youth-only movement (some of my favorite dancers over the years have been pushing 35 or so, though I doubt they’d admit to it), but there is such a thing as taking care of yourself – or at least, not asking that people pay to see you prove that you haven’t. If I want to watch the battle between flab and cellulite, I can stay right at home, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, I didn’t stay long. Perhaps I’ll try again when the club is busier and, one hopes, the selection better.