Well, I'm glad the club is...

Well, I'm glad the club is re-opened, and they've glitzed up the inside a little bit and made it a bit more solid construction. The private room is now a long hallway, secluded from the main floor but rather un-private in that you're on a long bench with all the other victims. The full-service menu is still available and readily offered, though it's a bit more expensive than before. I was quoted $75 off the bat, around midnight on a Saturday (prime time), not the full $100 that other reviewers have posted. I gave her $80. The biggest disappointment wasn't in service, contact, or ambience (crunk and ghetto, duh!), it was in the women. I dunno, I like my girls to look female. These chicks don't have any tits. They all shook their booties on stage, waggle-waggle-waggle, and kept their tops on, and it turned out most of them had lame flappy I-had-five-children-before-I-was-twenty tits. I think, partly, it's a cultural thing -- if you're a member of the typical African-American ghetto inner-city culture of North America, then as a male you're probably more likely to prefer women who look like the ones at Ebony Lace. But for me, I really prefer the look of a chick at Christie's or at PP, though I do appreciate the fact that EL offers ready access to fuller services. They pat you down at the door, which is disconcerting but in the end is quite nice; there's a BBQ dude with sausages out in the parking lot; and nearly all the clientele are young black males. Some will give you some attitude, some will just be surprised that there's a whitey in the audience. I did see one other white dude there, and he was SERIOUSLY white, polo shirt and top-sider shoes and white khaki SHORTS fer-chrissakes! I at least was wearing "dress casual" and I think he probably seemed more like a cop, or an idiot, than I did. You'll have to be able to navigate the complexes of American race cultures, but it isn't TOO difficult. Most people are pretty cool about it, and green is anyone's favorite color. Still, this is the place where, in my life, I'm most likely to be knifed in the back for no good reason and end up on a gurney, more so than any other location I frequent. Watch yer back!