A Lesson Learned

There is a peculiar trait of humans whereby they quite often do not take the advice of those who "had been there and done that." This trait was with me today. The last several times I had been in town, a trip to Chicas was on the itinerary. It had been enjoyable; the girls were fun and there were plenty of them. The place was jumping. I had a good time. I was looking forward to another good time today in spite of several not-so-good reviews recently. But, being a human, I had to see for myself. Well, I saw for myself and ended up cutting my losses and going elsewhere.

As I pulled into the parking lot, there were (relatively) a lot of cars, so I was encouraged. As I went in, the bouncer flagged me down and wanted to pat me down. It had never happened to me previously, and I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and Bermuda shorts. Not many places to carry a concealed weapon. OK, the price of admission is the price of admission. But, there were only 4 girls on duty and only a few more paying customers than that. Still OK. But as I looked over at the booth-ettes on the north side of the building, the few customers were sitting totally upright with their hands at their sides. The dancers were out by the customers' knees. Not much interaction was happening. I noticed that all the dancers were new; none of the enjoyable-to-be-with girls from the last few times were there. The bouncer was indeed patrolling up and down the row of little booths enforcing the hands-at-your-sides edict. I was there about 10 minutes sitting by the aisle with dancers walking by, but none of them said "hello" to me.

After appraising the situation, I decided to cut my losses at one bottle of water ($5 including tip) and departed the premesis.