I lament for Dream Girls. ...

I lament for Dream Girls. It was either the first or second strip club I went to once I became legal. All my elementary-school and adolescent years I not only dreamed but yearned to be man enough to go into a titty bar and ogle hot women's breasts for a fee. One year, my friend from college was back in town with his buddies in tow and said we all were going. My sister wanted to know what my friends and I were doing and I said, "Guy's night out." I was trying to be cryptic, but her and all her junior-high girlfriends sleeping over for the night probably understood what I meant, unfortunately.

Anyway, I remember it being absolutely fantastic. My jaw dropped to the floor and my eyes bugged out at the first strippers I saw like a guy in an old-school Warner Bros. cartoon. The place was crowded, and they were hooting and hollering for every beautiful girl that was up on stage. We had a fantastic time, and for the next few years, whenever my friend was back in town, we didn't mind traipsing through the busy Warehouse District and potentially meeting people from our high school to go back to the fabulous DG's.

Those days are over. Not just with my friend and I going, but with Dream Girls being a must-see destination. I will go once a year, maybe, just to keep in touch with the place, but make no mistake, stripper hounds, this place is dead. There is very little to recommend it nowadays.