Wednesday, October 08, 2008

When Gays land on Blue Moon

Took a break from the city up the Hudson River Valley to New Paltz, and the "Gunks" which is part of a mountain range, and the only real place to go rock climbing in New York State.

Minnewaska State Park
Sacajawea scouts locations

The forest performs its annual peep show
It also does an exotic strip

So we were staying off highway 299. A few miles from the hotel, right beside the above photo, was a broken down building called "The Blue Moon". It advertised "Exotic Dancers" on a beat up sign. The mere idea of "exotic dancers" on the side of a lonesome bi-way in upstate New York gave me a little thrill. Did they come all the way from the Catskills to dance here? I wondered if they gave themselves names like Wichita, or Angelique? Just who were they?

After dinner, at about 10pm, I made Bam Bam drive us down the biway. He protested the whole way.
"I don't want to see vagina!"
"It'll be fun," I reassured, "And it's probably just titties."
"I don't want titties in my face."
"I do," I said. "I definitely want titties in your face."

I suggested we'd just watch all the exotic action from afar. At the bar. Where I'd placate him with multiple Coronas. We got to the Blue Moon and drove into its lot slowly, to scope it out. There were just two cars outside. One van, and one toyota. "One is the owners," I said, "And the other belongs to the exotic dancer." We laughed and laughed, but suddenly a girl who we didn't notice, got out from the toyota and ran inside. She carried hooker heels in her hands!

She'd been laying down in the driver's side, waiting Blue Moon business to pick up.

Now we had to go in.

I yank Bam out of the car and we walk inside only to find a big man with a sign that reads no alcohol allowed, or sold here! There is also a cover charge. Behind the bouncer, on a stool, sits the exotic dancer. Her back is to us. Long hair races down her shoulders. Her legs are up on a table, straightened, to emphasize their length. Her hooker heels are on. One wiggles off the end of her heel, seductively. Prince's "Erotic City" blares over tinny speakers in the background.

"Wait, you don't sell alcohol here?" I ask the bouncer. "No," he answers, and Bam Bam turns to go. The bouncer stares flatly. The exotic dancer does not alter her pose. The door makes a little jingle as we leave.

I felt guilty all night.

2 comments:

Margot Leadbetter said...

You should have introduced the exotic dancer to that East Village Tranny you encountered before. Remember, the one with the foul mouth who stuck a open bottle of Jack Daniels up her pootie and sprayed the crowd with it.

Miss Exotic dancer could liven up what seems like a slow spell for her club by quirting burbon out of her snatch at folks in the front row. The bodyguard would never know.

Incidentally, Irish Triple Gold Medalist Swimmer Michelle De Bruin tried something similar after the 1996 Atlanta Games. Peeing into a drug-test cup, she peed 100% whiskey (that she had placed inside her ovulum thingie earlier).

The nasty Olympic officials didn't take to it and she had her medals taken away.

Jesse Archer said...

Oh Margot, how could I forget that trannie? Rose Wood. I've seen her do the same trick twice since. I've learned to steer clear of the spray...

As for your Olympic trivia knowledge, I have so many questions I don't know where to begin.