Sunday Sausage-fest

My flight to FLL arrived mid-day Sunday, and I decided to check out a couple of Pompano Beach clubs before checking in to my Boca Raton hotel. First up was the Porthole Pub, the dive bar with strippers that has been the scene of great fun on past visits. Pulling into the strip mall lot at 1:45, the sign said “OPEN;” good news. As I entered, a dancer whose company I had enjoyed a couple of months back called out to me—she was just arriving for work. Better news.

Out of the Florida sun and into pitch darkness. Nothing seems to change here (but I should say, Porthole Pub, never change). A few seats occupied around the rectangular bar, sports on the TVs, no one on stage. Friendly and efficient bartender served me as my dancer friend went to change in the back and I re-focused on the scene. Let’s chalk it up to a slow start, but there were only two dancers circulating, both over 50 and on the lower end of the Pub’s usual wide talent range. Not my problem today, since I was soon joined by my friend. A Porthole good time followed for me, with good interaction at the bar and better in the friction room. Given the low dancer count, we had the booth (which seats two) to ourselves. I’m ready to bail out around 3:00, and noted a dozen customers and four dancers, the closest thing to a sausage-fest I had seen here. Since “one is all it takes,” I left happy.

On previous weekday afternoon visits, the Pub usually has enough dancers and enough variety to keep the PLs happy. And, lots of strip clubs start off slow. No criticism intended for a club I enjoy visiting, but if there’s a “next time” Sunday, I’ll probably show up a bit later.