There was a time when weekend...

There was a time when weekend afternoons at the Gras were better than evenings in a lot of other places. Time, as some great sage probably said, passes. Visits on Saturday and Sunday midafternoons found the place pretty dead, with perhaps half a dozen ladies -- most of them good-looking, but with varying degrees of unavailability. For many, the norm on the stage was to sit and talk with a friend or regular, then disappear for the second half of the set. There wasn't even the former high pressure for lap dances -- I never thought I'd miss that. But that's OK; management has remodeled the LD room again, moving the entrance to the other side of the bar. Where once one could expect little harassment from bouncers during the day shift, now the chief boy scout sits right inside the entrance of the area and stares. And the guy's on a power trip. I lifted my hand to wipe my forehead and got barked at. There's a new sign on the front door stating that if you're asked to tuck your shirt in, and you don't, you'll be asked to leave. For a moment, I thought I was back at a high school freshman mixer again, except for the occasional nudity. And now that I recall freshman mixers ... no, that's not a relevant story. I'm giving a 2 only because I was dumb enough to come back the next day, thinking I'd hit a bad afternoon. Otherwise, 1 would be a gift.