Braving Atlanta

 I was in Atlanta over the weekend, and had just gone to the rehearsal dinner for my good friend Stroker Ace’s wedding when someone said, “We gotta go to the Clermont Lounge.” Not being an Atlanta native, those words meant nothing to me, but mere minutes later, they would have devastating consequences.

It was a little after midnight when we walked into the Clermont. It didn’t take long to be startled. A woman on stage who looked to be in her mid-50s/mid-250s dropped her French maid’s outfit to the ground and gyrated to the music, buck naked.

The Clermont Lounge is Atlanta’s longest operating strip club, opening in 1951, and most of the women on stage looked like they were there during the grand opening festivities. The smoke in the air was nothing short of stifling, and the floor was covered in what felt to be syrup. This place makes McGlinchey’s look like the Four Seasons.

A s it was the night before his wedding, Stroker was privy to a very special lap dance from Blondie, who pirouetted around Stroker, then shook her  ample bosom inches from his face. Her grand finale was nothing short of spectacular: She crushed a beer can with her bottom and deposited it in his coat pocket. The rotgut I’d been drinking began doing laps in my stomach, and I stumbled out into the night air, trying to come to grips with what I had witnessed.

Five days have passed. I still have not gripped it.

Johnny Goodtimes is a local quizmaster and blogger at www.johnnygoodtimes.com.