I guess it is technically spring break for a large number of school-attending youth in America this week. Spring Break used to once be something awesome; time away from school, warmer weather on the horizon, bikinis, sun, booze, sandy beaches and gratuitous T&A being shown 24/7 on MTV. Now, that was a fap show if I’ve ever seen one! Alas, times change and people grow older. Spring break now is not so much a break, but an arbitrary time frame in which I am mildly aware that others are out and about doing things that I used to do. Don’t get me wrong, this year this spring break time frame fell during Saint Patrick’s Day and the beginning of March Madness, so those events offered an unusual respite from my normal mundane 9-5. But it pales in comparison to what used to be the true goal of Spring Break; seeing strange boobs while being wasted. So, in an effort to achieve that goal this week, I am bringing back a location once espoused upon in these pages; the infamous 22nd Street Station in Minneapolis .
For those unfamiliar or those who may not remember past mentions of this locale, let me give you the back story. I’m sure that most every city, town or village has a similar hole in the wall; a place where the dirtiest of dirty go to see naked people in the dirtiest spot in town. You see, the 22nd Street Station, aka the Double Deuce, aka the Deuce Deuce, aka God’s Bar, is such a place but also so much more. Aside from seeing the dregs of society ogling naked women dancing in the shabbiest of stripper locations, they also have a fantastically stocked bar and a roulette wheel which allows you to gamble while breasts are dancing behind your head.
What makes this place so fantastic though are the stories that emanate from it:
– A couple friends, while sitting at sniffer’s row, had their dollar bills (yes, $1.00) on the table in front of them awaiting the next show stopper. When she came onto the stage, the male friend’s eyes went wide with disgust, pulled down some money and ended up leaving only $2 for the next dancer. The woman friend sitting next to him replied, “What are you doing? You can’t take money down once you put it up there for them!” The male friend nonchalantly replied, “Yes you can. That’s how they learn that they shouldn’t be stripping, because they make less money than the other strippers that are more attractive.” The logic proved solid, and the female friend also pulled money down, leaving the new dancer with a total of $4 for her efforts.
– While there during my birthday/anniversary with my girlfriend (because this is the only strip club that is so bad that it’s acceptable to go their with you girlfriend on important dates), one stripper commented how impressed she was that we had been in a relationship for so long, whereas her and her “baby daddy” had split after a year and a half and he left her with a child. Great to hear. Right after that statement, my girlfriend was also created with what must have been a type of stripper warrior cry when she yelled out “Schweaty Boobs!” and motorboated my GF. Good night.
– One night while there with a group of friends and female companions, we were unceremoniously asked to leave. What happened? Did someone touch a stripper (you cannot, unfortunately, do that in this fair state)? Did someone make a rude comment? Not quite. Instead, while a rather docile, sanguine lady danced on stage, a female friend and a male friend were providing a much better show, albeit fully clothed, a mere two feet away from sniffer’s row. Well, we can’t have better options to watch when such craptitude is occurring on the stage, so we were brusqly moved towards the door, full drinks left on the table. I silently helped to clean up after the bouncer though, rearranging a variety of cups and glasses in perfectly formed geometric shapes in the most unified order possible. I think he really appreciated it.
– There was also a time when a bachelor group of us arrived near the end of the night in time to see the last ladies show. It was a motley group of individuals; the man getting married was uncomfortable and unsure if he should be there, yet put on a good face, the heaviest drinker of the group had approximately 10 minutes to enjoy his 2 beers, 3 shots, and a mixed drink that he had while keeping his eyes glued on the dancer the entire time, while the random 40-year old virgin type sat with tight pants in the corner trying to avoid eye contact with the stripper. That is a Nay-No, ma brotha. It’s these types of people, plus anyone anywhere in between that makes up the fabric of this cherished location.
So hopefully tonight I will be able to fulfill my destiny of nakedness, especially on a Sexy Friday, and add another odd ball reference to my Deuce Deuce repertoire. If you do ever find yourself in the Twin Cities area, try to make a trip of it. It will be well worth your time, fears, and dollar bills. But hopefully, it won’t be during a spring break week, otherwise those are some pretty messed up priorities. Enjoy the warm weather and the warm bodies!
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