I normally wouldn't write a bad...

I normally wouldn't write a bad review, but I really have to get this off my chest. Checked out Jaguars on my way back from dinner on a business trip to El Paso. I reviewed Red Parrot and Dreams, but settled on Jags because it was closer to my hotel and I figured that the "Vegas" style alone would hold it weight. Drove by Red Parrot and Dreams and hey both looked packed. Jags was pretty much dead, less than a dozen customers, nearly that many dancers, and a $15 cover.

Before I could sit down, I had waitress in my face (one drink min, but byob... Wtf), and a dancer asking if she could just "talk". After 30 seconds, I knew she wasn't my type, but I let her hang around... But that smell! Holy B.O Batman. I positioned myself so that she could sit in front of me and assault my olfactory senses, which she took to giving me a decent shoulder massage.

it was probably 30 minutes until she was called to the stage, so I tipped her for two dances ($40) and made my way to the VIP room with two other very assertive girls. They doubled me, and were pretty liberal with touching and, well, biting. It wasn't a terrible experience, until I got back to my car and realized all I could smell was a combination of that horrible B.O. and, well, shit. I could smell shit. Even when I woke up the next morning to fly home, same stench, even after airing out on a hanger in front of the vent. That was the most immediate load of laundry I ever did, including the time I crapped my own pants.