Tekila Three-Way
July 17th, 2008 by alfie in From the Street“I feel like I’m in a three-way!” I said Friday at the grand opening of Tekila Rocks, where I kept getting jostled by gargantuan boobage and ladies grinding like it was their job. I had heard of women keeping cash in their cleavage, but I had never seen them used to holster cell phones. This was the kind of eye-level cleavage with enough energy to potentially knock you out if it got moving fast enough.
I have never actually been in a three-way, but I’m fairly positive that the only major difference between Tekila Rocks’ dance floor and the sex act is that you couldn’t get pregnant on the dance floor. Then again, I’ve been wrong before.
The doormen kept things classy by turning away scrubs in ball caps and shorts, while admitting classy players in sleek black shirts, gold chains, and perpetual shades. Luckily for me, they also allowed dudes with man purses and rolls of duct tape.
Smooth dance lights slid over the polished cement floors and the corrugated metal paneling, which made the place feel like a cross between a beachfront cantina and a posh night club. The bar was fully stocked with girls wearing cowboy hats and low cut tops, dishing free beers for guys and free wells for gals.
Hard-hitting club hits assaulted the floor. Tina, the Philippine club promoter, was dancing like she was trying to hurt someone. Guys took turns trying to keep up while she took her moves so low you’d think she was practicing for an international limbo tournament.
If I performed moves some of the guys were attempting on the floor, people would think I was having a seizure. That’s why I stick to the standard side-to-side bob, dancing with my beer over my head for a maximum of five seconds and dry humping strangers’ thighs while trying to think nonsexual thoughts — like Dr. Ruth naked. I save my more exotic moves for a sweat-friendly environment where there is some kind of landing pad, like a bed.
The only bad thing I had to say about Tekila Rocks was that it was too loud to hit on anyone. But this may have been a good thing for some of the women in attendance, as well as my sense of dignity, as I have a disorder that makes me say things I regret the instant they leave my lips.
“You’re phat,” I said, enticing a potential dance partner with a little side-to-side bobbing and some over the head beer action.
“What,” she said, her face bunching into a knot of lines.
“I said ‘I think I’m having a seizure’,” I said while performing my patented side-to–side bob toward the door.
E-mail Alfie at shawn.alff@creativeloafing.com
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