Ridiculous – In the Best Sense of the Word

I visited Strokers on a Monday evening, 9:15-midnight. They were set up for valet parking, with a sign and cones blocking some of the spaces. Since there were plenty of spaces in the lot, I parked near the cones, but not in a blocked off space. As I approached the club, the parking lot attendant said, "It's $10." I asked if there was any free parking, and he said, "Yeah, near the sale tar." I said, "I'm sorry, where?" He replied, in a thick Georgia drawl, "The sale tar," pointing to a 50-foot-tall structure, not far away in the middle of the lot, with a dozen cell phone antennas arrayed at the top. Oh, OK. I easily found a space right at the foot of the "sale tar." Best phone reception ever, y'all.

The cover was $5.00, and bottled water at the bar was $4.00. Dances on Mondays are $5.00, though in my experience here, sometimes the girls are too new to know about the Monday prices, so it pays to check. When I said to the girls, "Dances are $5.00, right?" some said yes, but a couple said, "Well, actually, they're two for $10.00." OK, fair enough.

This is a mid-tier club at best, with two stages and five pool tables, most of which were in use. It's a black club; the bartender (male) and I were the only white people in the place. There were probably 10-15 patrons. Stage shows started at 9:30, and girls stayed on stage for quite a few dances, some (most?) getting completely nude and widely spread, but some took nothing off for the sparse crowd. I saw no one tip at the stage, though a few guys and some of the other working girls walked by and threw a handful of ones.