They Say Never Meet Your Idols. They Are Wrong

After reading countless reviews of this historic destination, I finally was able to make the pilgrimage to the Pink Palace. I felt I like I was meeting my longtime heroes I had read about - so what it's like to finally meet your idols? Read on.

Burlington is in a long lost armpit of New Jersey I wasn't familiar with. There was no direct path to this place from where I was so it was definitely a twisty-zaggy Odyssean journey to get here. Once I arrived, I said a prayer to the stripper goddesses to bless this sacred experience and consecrate it towards my masculine enlightenment. There were ample stalls and yes, you do have to do a perp walk in full view of Rt 130 to get in. I was a stranger in this land so I walked proudly in.

Get through the opening vestibule and into the darkness - you guys aren't kidding. Walked in, no one greeted me for a cover charge but I did feel the presence of a lady sitting directly to my right. I said hello to her eyeballs which is all I could see. I felt my way around the bar - the place is mostly this long rectangular bar, chairs all around with very little walking room around the edges. I move around to the right side of the bar and the older bartender lady with a loose tank top takes my drink order, which is $10 for whatever I'm getting - guess that's the cover charge. I get a cranberry juice and settle into my chair.