40/44

The first time I was at Jags Clubhouse, it was because I had dedicated the night to hitting up the five remaining strip clubs I had never been to yet. That should give you an initial indication of how bad this place was. I didn't really want to go to it even before I ever went to it.

Unless you are an employee of one of the nearby industrial businesses, needing to unwind after a twelve hour shift, this place isn't very conveniently located. It is also pretty nondescript while passing by at 35mph, so unless you know where it is, you are likely to miss it.

My first time there, I must have waiting a good five minutes to even be acknowledged by the bartender. It wasn't particularly busy by any means; she just chose to carry on the conversation she was having on her phone instead of taking care of the customers. The drinks are served in slightly smaller glasses than most other places, but they still charge the same amount. Once I finally got my standard whiskey/coke, I waited another five minutes before a dancer finally came out of the dressing room and took the stage. She was attractive enough to sit at her rack, and she was friendly enough throughout the first song. Unfortunately, during the second song, when her underwear came off, the smell from her became nauseating to the point that I had to leave. I had at that time ranked it as the worst club in Portland.