The Best Strip Club Delaware Has to Offer

Holy. Crap. 2 blog entries in 2 days.  I told you I’m back, and for good this time.  Juuust like a case of the herp.  Speaking of, let me jump right into this one:


Where….do I even begin?  Let me just preface this by saying that my family has a nice home in a nice neighborhood.  However, it just so happens to be less than a mile from one of the, uh, finest strip clubs in the Northeast, possibly in the world.  The Fairways Inn.

Why guys aren’t coming here for their bachelor parties instead of Vegas, I’ll never understand.

I lived in Delaware my whole life until I went off to college, so I have passed by this place thousands and thousands of times.  I remember learning to read and asking my mom what “go-go girls” were.  I remember passing by the green building each morning on the bus to school and just dying to know what was going on inside.  And, on my 16th birthday party, on the way back from the beach, all 6 of us gals in our underwear (don’t even ask), I remember us pulling up to Fairways, doing a Chinese fire drill in the parking lot, and me wondering what would happen if I went in and asked for an application.  Babysitting just wasn’t cutting it.

Just kidding. I used to make sick money babysitting.

But, strangely enough, I never made it here on a summer vacation or trip home for the holidays, so I decided that THIS Thanksgiving would be the momentous occasion:  my first trip to Fairways.  Our group of 5 hit another bar first, it sucked (hard to believe in Dover, Delaware, right?), and that’s when I made the suggestion…and it was well received.  We excitedly headed to Fairways, parked in the gravel lot, and right before walking in, Cory and I noticed the PERMANENT sign that said “Dancers Wanted.”  Help was always wanted?! Yes, always.  And, who says it’s a bad job market?

The actual bar wasn’t as grimy as I thought it would be, but I still stuck to bottled beer.  Something about mixed drinks at sketchy strip clubs just doesn’t fly with me and my immune system.  The bartender was a little scary and while she was wearing a top, I noticed her pull it up and grab a guy’s dollar bill between her, um, not-so-lovely lady lumps.  I would soon learn that this was standard tip-taking procedure.  Most of the the girls were not much to look at, although there was one with a cute little body that the guys in my crew were eyeballing.  Yet, she was walking with a limp (not so sexy in platforms) and appeared to be on something a liiiiittle stronger than alcohol.  Like Meth.

I spotted a man who I can only describe as a 40-year-old, overweight, homeless-looking former rapper taking the tips and pooling them in a bucket for the girls.  A wave of sadness came over me as I thought about what these girls probably made in a night for what they were doing.  I didn’t get it; why didn’t they just work at Applebee’s?  But, there was no time to get philosophical.  I had ones on me and I was ready to make it rain.  Or something like that.  A decent-looking brunette came off her pole in the corner and as she walked by us at the bar, I tried to slip her a couple bucks.  And……DENIED.  Apparently, the ladies had to go from the corner pole to ANOTHER pole behind the bar and complete both dances before taking tips between their nips.  What…an obstacle course.  I did give her the money after she came off pole #2, but I have to admit I was slightly embarrassed.  Who gets denied trying to give a stripper a tip?!  This girl.

The rest of the night proved fairly standard.  A couple more guys from high school showed up and one was bought a private dance in a back room which he later rated a 4 on a scale of 1 to 100.  And, when he emerged from the champagne, er, PBR room with his gal, we made him motorboat her.  So, that was fun.  I made a lot of other sad observations throughout the evening, but I won’t get into that because this blog is about laughs and partying and puppies, not unfortunate strippers and the pimps who, uh, pimp them out.

I don’t know that I’ll go back to Fairways anytime soon unless I can be SURE the infamous one-armed stripper will be working.  I’m serious.  She exists.  And, I’ve got to see her work that pole while missing a pretty important limb before I die.  But, otherwise, I may stay away.  Unless this whole writing thing doesn’t work out.  After all, they are always hiring.


Tomorrow, we’ll be stuffing a turkey….on video. And, it may be X-rated.  Stay tuned, and as always, you can subscribe using the button at the top of the page!

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