This is a story about Sheila....

This is a story about Sheila. Or the all too common story of taking it for granted that guys won't leave. I get to Cheetahs driving myself and am told that all parking is valet only. Ok. I turn the car around and park at the little office strip next door to the right of the club. Signs say customer parking only, but surely around 2-3AM the tow trucks aren't waiting to pounce.

I get to Cheetahs on foot in no terrible hurry to get there. I pay some nominal fee. Maybe it was $20. A lot of my Vegas reviews aren't spot on with prices, but if you're counting change in this town you picked the wrong place to visit. The only club scene I've been to more expensive per minute than Vegas is The Block in Baltimore. Anyhow, I paid some amount of cover and got a free pass for my next visit when I walked out a few minutes later (but I'm getting ahead of myself). When you first walk into the club you're not going to see much until your eyes adjust. This is the most dimly lit club in Las Vegas, slightly darker than Sapphire. Purple neon trim throughout gave off what little light there was in the place. Club is mid-sized for Vegas, and stage setup about average. Expected something slightly more upscale.

Had a decent number of customers for the time, maybe 10-15 or so not counting the two in the lobby arguing with staff about parking fees. Was going to stay up high near the bar along the left wall, but one of the dancers started talking to me a couple of steps in and I walked down into the sea of chairs in the middle of the club to escape. Headed past the stage where there were fewer customers and pretty much slumped down into a chair. I'd already found the best action of the trip over at OG and saw the best looking girls at Little Darlings on the long way here, so I was pretty much just taking in the scenery at this point. Stephanie the smoking hot waitress was over in under a minute to take my drink order. I'm pretty sure the Cheetahs in San Diego has a juice bar, but this place serves alcohol.