the 941

FRIDAY, JULY 3 — MUSCLE MADNESS ’09, SARASOTA

As I descend upon Muscle Madness ’09, visions of naked chicks and rock ‘n’ roll dance in my head. For weeks leading up to the event I heard cautionary tales about the party and its host, “Diamond” Dave Branch, stories of wild nights with the self-styled bad boys of offshore boat racing. Dave’s renown is built upon the free rock show and party he hosts every year the weekend of the races, along with a bevy of babes and boatloads of booze. Needless to say, I figure this event should prove to be quite the scene.

Upon arrival, I take a brief spin around the main stage where at least 1,000 people are already milling about, enjoying free Bud and Szambelan (duh) and listening to the new BulletBoys album over the speakers. I quickly find the VIP entrance to the backstage area. The warehouse that normally houses the team’s enormous boats has been converted into a spacious lounge for the night. There are couches, cages, Szambelan stations and strippers as far as the eye can see. “OK,” I think to myself. “This looks interesting.”

Marissa, my sweet and obliging contact with the muscle team, spots me and introduces me to the legendary Diamond Dave. Dave looks exactly like I expect him to: straggly blond hair, a diamond-encrusted skull belt buckle and full sleeves of tattoos covering his leathery arms. He is polite and perhaps even business-like in his welcome to me, extending a hand and a “nice to meet you.” Based on the man’s rep, I was expecting something more like a slap on the ass and a “how ya doin’, toots.” Was Dave on good behavior for the press? Was he busy with hosting duties? Or is Diamond Dave simply not the party animal he once was/makes himself out to be?

Night falls, and the crowd has grown expontentially. The numbers must be getting close to the 5,000 that Dave had predicted. While opening act Mad Margritt rocks the stage with covers like “You Shook Me All Night Long,” I take a minute to talk with Marq Torien, lead singer of BulletBoys. Though clichéd, the black eyeliner and nail-polish rock star look is workin’ for Marq — so much so that I am suprised to find out he has actually been fronting the band for more than 20 years. He is amiable and  all smiles as he tells me that he’s been enjoying his time in Sarasota so far and is looking forward to the show tonight.

When BulletBoys take the stage I join the crowd to check them out and am immediately distracted by the dozen or so titties onstage with the rockers. Dave has invited a number of ladies from the Cheetah to writhe and collect dollars like the pros they are.

Retreating backstage once again, I find a much more comfortable view next to the drum kit just in time for the BulletBoys’ tribute to the currently omnipresent King of Pop — a rockin’ version of “Billie Jean.” As I bound back to the bar, fellow VIPer Ken Brand of Szambelan stops me and insists upon taking my picture with “Jon.” I’m happy to oblige and step in the shot with a bearded man who puts his arm around me and charmingly attempts to lift my skirt as the photo is being taken. (It is only much later when someone tells me that Jonathan and Andy Hillstrand of the TV show The Deadliest Catch are at the party, that I realize who exactly that nice gentleman grabbing at my panties was.)

Waiting in line for the bathroom I get a chance to meet two of the very pretty ladies “dancing” onstage. I take a moment to applaud one of the women on her enthusiastic performance and she introduces herself as Christina. Impossibly thin considering her giant breasts, she tells me it’s her sixth year at Muscle Madness and that it’s always a blast. Tiffanie, next in line, looks a little woozy and tells me she drank too much, blaming it on the girl holding court astride a block of ice who called out passersby as “pussies” unless they stopped for a shot of Patrón poured down a groove in the ice between her legs.

After the band wraps up Dave comes back to congratulate them on an awesome set. He lights a cigar and takes a seat with me for a moment as things wind down. We chat a bit about the race on Sunday, which will be his 14th Suncoast Grand Prix, until a friend of mine, being admittedly a bit obnoxious, presses Dave about whether or not he actually drives the boat. He does not — technically he is the “owner/throttle,” while co-pilot Nunz does the steering. Nonetheless Dave quickly grows annoyed by the line of questioning, stands up and walks away.

The night is clearly coming to an end. As the strippers change out of their platform heels and into flip-flops and cover their silicones in oversized T-shirts, rumors start flying that the cops are about to invade the private backroom. Marq flips out and bolts, and I decide that’s my cue to head for the hills as well. That’s Muscle Madness for ya’.

View more pictures of strippers and rockers in the full photo gallery on facebook.

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