Not the Way to Kill a Boring Friday Night

It was a Friday night, about 10:30. I skipped out on a show -- just really didn't feel like sitting in a loud crowd -- so I just started walking around downtown. Soon, the Red Garter was in my path, so I figured it was as good a place to go as any.

Forked over $15 to the front doorman, there in his booth. He checked my ID, scanned it, too, if I remember right, then did a visual pat-down -- basically just had me lift my shirt out of my waistband, then turn around to see if I had any weapons. He gave me the thumbs-up and in I went.

The place was dimly lit but seemed clean and safe enough. It's primarily a long room. Once inside, the doorman's booth is just to the right and a little past that the bar. To the left of the entrance, I think I spied an ATM. Didn't make use of it, so I can't warn you about any fees. There are three square stages lined up in the center, each with its own perv row. Small tables, each with a couple chairs, run most of the length of the room. Behind them and set up just a little higher are tables and booths; guessing those are the bottle-service areas. Just past the main room are the higher-priced lap dance areas: The Red Room and, up the stairs, VIP. A bouncer sits at the bottom of the stairs, collecting fees and keeping an eye on things. And just past all of that are the bathrooms; I didn't need to use it, so I can't comment on cleanliness or the presence of a troll.