Madam ore. Not top but not at the bottom either.

I’ve popped into Madame Oar’s a few times over the past couple years, last visit was a slow Tuesday in early November. Paid the guy at the door the usual ten bucks, quick pat-down, walked in around 10. Place is still the same tight little box: long straight bar running down the whole left wall, stage and pole right across from it with maybe six feet of space in between. Couple of high-tops squeezed against the opposite wall, one ratty couch in the back that smells like a thousand cigarettes. Most dudes just camp at the bar because there’s nowhere else decent to sit. It’s clean enough (floors don’t stick, bathroom doesn’t make you gag), and the red lights hide a lot of sins. Music’s loud but you can still talk, and half the girls disappear out to the smoking patio between sets, so the floor can look dead even when they’ve got four or five on the roster.

That night there were five dancers total, which is honestly a crowd for this place. First girl I took back was a white chick, blonde, fake everything, huge attitude the second she sat down. Two songs on the main floor, forty bucks, and she spent the whole time rolling her eyes and checking her phone between grinds. Barely any contact, acted like I was inconveniencing her. Total waste. After that I grabbed a mixed girl (light-skinned Black/Latina vibe, curly hair, super sweet) for another two dances, same forty bucks. Night-and-day difference: smiling, laughing, actual conversation, hands everywhere, made me feel like a king instead of an ATM. Same price, completely different experience. That’s Madame Oar’s in a nutshell; one girl treats you like garbage, the next acts like you’re the only guy in the building.

Drinks are cheap enough: six for a Bud, eight or nine for Jack and Coke. Didn’t bother with VIP this time because I’ve done it before and it’s still just a curtain five feet from the bar for $150–$300. Hard pass when the regular dances are twenty a pop.

If I’m already in Binghamton killing time and just want a beer and a couple of laps, sure, I’ll walk in again; ten-dollar cover isn’t gonna break me. But if I’m coming from out of town with only one night to play, I’m not picking this place. Too hit-or-miss on the girls, too many nights half the roster is outside smoking while customers stare at an empty stage. Sweet ones like the mixed girl make it worth the gamble once in a while, but the attitude from the other type kills the mood fast.

6/10 on a good night, 4/10 when the wrong ones are working. Your mileage literally depends on which two or three girls decide to earn money that shift.