PT's was even slower than Brad's

Well, I ain't from around these parts, just a fella passin' through, and I had me a Sunday night to spare. First, I swung by Brad's BF joint. Let me tell ya, it was deader than a doornail. I hung around for a good two hours, and only one gal approached me for a twirl on the dance floor. I threw some tips at the ladies up on stage, thinkin' they might come chat with me or offer a dance, but no dice. The one gal who did talk to me mentioned it gets busier after 11pm, but my patience was wearin' thin. So, I got a dance from her and decided to mosey on over to PT's (that's what I'm reviewin' now) on my way back to the hotel.

Now, let's get to the basics. I rolled into PT's 'round about 11pm. The parking lot was easy to get into and felt safe as a coop full of chickens. It was well lit, kinda had that industrial vibe goin' on. When I walked in, a bouncer took what I reckon was a ten-spot for entry and gave me a quick pat-down. Inside, it felt a tad more upscale than what I'm used to back home, where folks still light up in clubs. But here, there weren't no smokin', so my clothes didn't smell like a chimney the next day.

But here's the rub—PT's was even slower than Brad's, and I kinda wished I'd just stuck it out there. I sidled up to the bar and ordered myself a drink (think it was $3 or $4 for a Miller Light, but don't quote me on that). They had a full bar for them folks who like somethin' stronger. Two gals, both of 'em white as a sheet, seemed like they were the local corn-fed types, sat there and shot the breeze with me. They griped about how slow it was and were munchin' on some chicken tenders. Nice folks to chat with, no doubt. But there weren't no dancers on the stage, so I asked why. They said it wasn't hoppin' enough to get a gal up there. I spotted maybe 8 to 10 gals total and 'bout the same number of customers.