The first-ever meeting of the Loyal and Benevolent Order of a.s.s.-c., Los
Angeles chapter took place Thursday, December 28, and it was great.
Saxbeat pulled in to Bob's about 1:15 p.m. The party was supposed to start
at 1, but this is a world where 20 minutes late is still early, so what the
hey.
After walking around a little bit, unsuccessfully trying to identify fellow
ass-c'ers ("Hey, there's a guy wearing a cap; Z Bone said he'd be wearing
a cap... Excuse me, are you Z Bone?" "Huh? What are you talking about?" "Oops,
sorry."), Saxbeat took a seat off the stage.
A few minutes later, a handsome, bearded fellow approached Saxbeat and asked,
"Excuse me, are you Saxbeat?" It was Roger, an occasional poster to ass-c,
and the meeting was officially called to order. We took a seat at the bar
so we could talk, and the first thing I realized a few minutes into talking
to Roger is that what others have said here is true: ass-c'ers tend to be
polite, quiet, articulate professionals, whom one would be interested in
meeting even without our common interest.
One thing that probably was quite different from the ALS, Kat and AtomicD0g
virtual parties was that in order to hold a decent conversation, we were
forced to sit by the bar, making watching the dancers difficult, if not
impossible. After half an hour at Bob's, I had little idea of who was dancing.
"Hey look, there's naked girls here!"
Suddenly, I hear the DJ mumbling something into the microphone about RJ and
Saxbeat; I walk over to find out what he said, and it's Z Bone, wearing a
cap, as promised, and a big smile. Great! Z Bone Roger, Roger Z Bone. We
retire back to the bar to chat some more, and a few minutes later a very
dapper gentleman approaches, "Are you guys in ass-c?" It's Richard, a lurker.
It seems that four is a quorum for good ass-c'ing, because the afternoon
seemed to take off at that point. We were so deep in conversation, we could
have been transported, Star Trek-like, to a Taco Bell and barely have noticed,
except perhaps for the lack of smoke. ("Hey, it just got bright in here!")
Given the images of strip clubs in popular culture (i.e., sleazy), I really
have to wonder whether ass-c people are a tremendous divergence from the
norm, or the industry as a whole is unfairly maligned. Each of the guys I'd
met were absolute pearls. They put the "gentleman" in Gentleman's Club, and
the "class" in Classy Lady.
I should mention at this point our hostess for the day, Nina, a very cute
waitress with a sparkly personality. She told me, "Somebody wrote about me
on the internet, and they said I was cute and to ask for me, but nobody ever
has!" So, come on guys, show Nina the power of the cyber-press. Ask for her
and tip her well.
After discussing internet providers, mail programs, the nature of existence
and reality in ass-c, the posters and threads that drive us nuts, and other
such topics, someone (Z Bone?) said, "Why don't we get a seat closer to the
stage?" Okay, so we grabbed a seat at one of the U-shaped tables adjacent
to the stage, and now we were wrapped in conversation, but we were shouting
every sentence. We still weren't paying attention to the dancers.
At this point, we were wondering, "Where's RJ?" Next thing we knew, there
he was! We were batting 1.000 -- genteel, erudite, funny -- What a group!
Well, when RJ arrived, something clicked. Z Bone, RJ and Saxbeat pulled into
a huddle, and it was like some kind of Vulcan ritual. A while later (10 minutes,
20, an hour?) we looked up and realized Roger and Richard were gone. Oops,
how rude of us! It was unintentional, but one of the dangers of meeting where
you have to shout to be heard. Fortunately, they were just out being entertained.
Richard even brought back some big plates of finger food. Wow! What a trooper.
I don't think I thanked him enough for this kind gesture. I was getting hungry,
too.
We unfurled our veterans' tales and shared a few laughs over all the crazy
things we've seen happen in clubs and the pleasant insanity we call ass-c.
Just about that time, another guy walked up, and it's Larry, the 'net-plugged-in
and very nice director of publicity and promotion for the club. He follows
ass-c rabidly, and enjoys reading all our posts. He asked me what Bob's could
do to improve the club, I said, "Lower the price of private dances!" then
added, "Just kidding." He replied, "No you're not. I saw your post!" Larry's
a great guy, with a sense of humor and an intellectual curiosity that no
one ever sees mentioned when club staff employees are discussed in ass-c.
To top things off, Larry treated the group to several rounds of drinks, on
the house. I was floored. We had made it clear that this was a sort of low-key,
get to know each other, mid-holidays, low-spending sort of event, but he
was still treating us like princes. I know you're reading this Larry, so
thank you, thank you, thank you. You're a gentleman and a scholar.
About this time, critical mass was reached. Here, you had some of L.A.'s
most active ass-c'ers, and as RJ said to me, "I don't think I've ever spent
so little in a club." We needed some dancers!
As if by magic, Rusty appeared. She's a very cute dancer who is the definition
of the word "perky" in the most positive sense. Katie Couric? Ehhh, cute.
Rusty? PERKY! Each of the little U-shaped tables at Bob's has an elevated
center so the dancers can stand between the seats and do their stuff. Rusty
was probably taken by surprise, as the first question she was asked was,
"Do you have a computer?" Turns out she does, but she's not on the 'net yet.
We all encouraged her to get plugged in, and then she proceeded to entertain
us. She has probably never talked so much and been talked to so much during
a performance, and yet she maintained her poise, humor and coordination.
A total sweetheart.
A few dancers followed Rusty, and they were good, but my attention wandered
as RJ and I chatted. Roger left, and Pieter arrived and the group began turning
more of its attention to the dancers now, occasionally splitting off to sit
at the stage.
I had a 6 o'clock rehearsal to go to, so about 5:30, I was getting anxious
and looking at my watch. Knowing that despite all our best intentions, this
may never happen again, I was hesitant to leave. I had just told RJ, "I'd
better get going," when I heard the DJ say the word, "Justice." Damn. They
did that on purpose! Now I had to stay. As readers of my previous posts know,
Justice is my favorite dancer at Bob's and sets a fire to me like no other.
Justice did four songs on the stage, and then, as luck would have it, came
over to our table to dance.
She is funny! She chatted with us and delighted us with her sensual moves
and charming personality. It's been said that the problem with our legal
system is there is not enough justice. I'd say the problem with the world
is there's not enough Justice.
After her table-side set, I apologized to her, because I heard she had been
upset about my posts describing her performance. That wasn't exactly true,
she said, but she was concerned that because of my enthusiasm, people might
assume she was doing something illicit. This was a really valid point. I
had never considered that people might read into my words, and assume that
because I say a dancer is "highly recommended" that that dancer is doing
something either illegal or against club rules. When I recommend a dancer,
it's because I like her, she is sensual, she is sexy, she has good
moves,whatever. When I guarantee you will be satisfied by any dancer, I only
mean you will be happy you spent time with her, as I am when I spend time
with Justice. 'Nuff said.
So, now I'm really late. It's after 6, but as I'm saying my goodbyes, Larry
offers to show Z Bone and I the VIP room at Bob's. Boy, did we make a mistake.
It's a small, intimate space that is arranged right out of an ass-c'ers dreams.
It's clean and new, and looks like it's rarely been used. We had been worried
about being cordoned off into a high-pressure tipping zone, like the champagne
room at certain clubs, but this is clearly something different. Larry offers
to make the room available for the next ass-c gathering and Z Bone and I
can only look at each other and smile. This would be great.
However, one of the problems we determined when we were setting up this event
is that L.A. is just too damn big to make for decent ass-c sharing. Between
the six of us who eventually showed up, there were probably a good 500 miles
of road in the round trip to Bob's and home. We really envy the San Francisco
clan, with all the good clubs in easy taxi or even a long walk's distance
of each other.
Another thing we discovered is that you can't be democratic about these events.
No one will ever agree, especially on the 'net. You have to just say, "Meeting
at x time, on x date, be there or don't."
So we agreed more or less, to have more of these events, called as the different
ass-c'ers see fit, at the organizer's discretion. In other words, we agreed
to let the current anarchy continue.
Summing up, I had a great time meeting a great bunch of guys whose common
interests with me went far beyond strip clubs. Bob's turned out to be a
better-than-expected venue for our meeting, other than the volume level of
the club, and the inability to hold a conversation within easy view of the
dancers. They have a great air filtration system, because I hardly smelled
of smoke at all. The thing missing most was the participation of dancers
in the meeting. It's a shame we don't have a Kat, a Sayla or a Kristen to
join the group and change the nature of bonding going on. With clubs like
Bob's being so heavily plugged in though, and smart dancers like Rusty and
Justice seeing the benefits of internet access, it can only be a little while
before L.A. gets a few dancers on the 'net as well.
I'm probably leaving out a lot of important things, but I hope the rest of
you can post and fill in. We never did see lobo or rocket, or some of the
other guys who thought they might show up, and I have to say, they were missed.
You can never have too many people at this sort of party. Next time guys.
(Or to paraphrase the Seder, "Next year in San Francisco!")
It was a pleasure meeting all of you, and I hope we can do it again. (I was
only an hour late to my rehearsal...)
Saxbeat
