La Chambra
OK, this is a story from like, many many many years ago.
All right, maybe from like 2001, but that still counts right? It feels like forever ago.
Anyways, I was still an impressionable young man working at as small upscale Italian restaurant named “Marco’s” But that is not so much important to this story.
I have always liked getting to know my co-workers better by hanging out with them after work, not abnormal I do not think. One particular co-worker at that time was a cook named Travis. Travis was a nice guy, but a total mess, he used to do things that normal people would not do. He invited me one time to go out with him and friends on a ‘peeping’ excursion.
Yes, I said peeping. As in walk through a neighborhood and go up to people’s windows and peep a look. Will you see something naughty? Will you see something weird? Does not matter, the thrill is in the invasion of privacy and doing something you know you should not be doing. That being said I declined this offer, in fact I couldn’t come up with many things I would rather do less than go peeping with Travis and his peeping friends.
However, one night Travis was telling me about this great strip club he liked to frequent. At this time in my life I had less debt and more cashflow, I was about 23 or 24, and the idea of going to a strip club sounded far less horrible to me then than it does now. So I agreed to go. The place we were going to was a little strip club called ‘La Chambra’.
I believe ‘La Chambra’ is French for ‘Shithole’. I could be wrong. It was located just off the merging of 2 freeways on the backside of an on ramp. La Chambra existed in a (pardon the pun) stripmall. Yes, nestled between a hardware store and a Chinese carry out place sat a strip club. I have learned over the years not to judge a place based on first impressions, so I ventured forth and entered the doorway to hell.
Walking in I was surprised to see how few people there inside, Sure it was a Thursday evening, but still I think I counted like 5 guys, and that included Travis and myself. The smell hit me right away, it was a combination of failure and sweat. Walking in off the street we passed by a large circular couch area, presumably for lap dance type behavior to take place. It was not in use. I thought that was kinda weird, I mean if it gets busy and you are using a reasonable amount of couch space, isn’t it weird to know that you can look past your dancer of choice and see some other dude staring right back at ya from not too far away? I don’t know, I’m no strip club architect.
We crossed past the dreadcouch and got ourselves a couple of Heinekens and sat down next to the dance floor area. There was about as much room to sit as you would find in flying coach. I got stuck in a postage stamp sized area between the wall behind be and the cold, unfeeling metal bar which seperated the stage from the seats. I remember thinking to myself, should the stage be elevated in some way so as to make the dancer up there more viewable? Guess not, nevermind.
There was a dancer finishing some sort of bland routine when we sat down. I guess it’s hard to get motivated for one drunk guy who is off in the corner lurking. But she was really not into it, it’s too bad meth wasn’t as popular yet at that time.
So we got a pause in between songs to have a brief conversation;
Ray: “Travis, where the fuck did you bring me?”
Travis: “Dude, isn’t this place great?”
Ray: “No, no it’s not, it’s horrible. I’m getting depressed being here.”
Travis: “I know, that’s the best part about it!”
With that wonderful exchange we had a guest. A stripper had come over and wanted to talk to me. She was tired and haggard. Her hair was stringy, and she was missing at least 2 teeth that I could see. Still not the worst part about her, she had a broken arm which she kept in a sling.
Excuse me, let me rephrase that; She had a FUCKING BROKEN ARM and she was wearing a cast and sling while she was working at her job as a stripper! I don’t know if there is anything that turns me on more than grievous bodily injury. I sluffed her off so she started talking to Travis. They talked for like 30 seconds when shockingly he gets up and walks over with her to the dreadcouch. He seriously was going to go get a lap dance from a chick with a broken arm. I had to laugh to myself for a moment because this is the type of absurdity which pervades my existence.
I had convinced myself that I was going to let Travis finish his lapdance and get the hell out of Dodge. I’ll just take in the next featured dancer for a few minutes, let him get his happy gross time, and tell him that we gotta go. Then the next number started. The song started playing, what it was I could not tell you, because my mouth was agape at the fact that a 275 pound behemoth was taking to the stage. She had dark hair, wore glasses, and had on a black corset looking lingerie thingy that was bursting at the seams. I did not know what to make of my life, I think I would have rather been at a donkey show. She comes out all emo-ish and gothy, and actually tried to do real dance moves! Like the one where you jump in the air and kick your legs back and forth before coming back down, you know, like ballet shit. But she was HUGE, so I felt the Earth shake every time she tried a move. At this moment a nice girl came over and sat down next to me. I looked over at her, she had all her limbs and a nice smile, she was cute, which was surprising for this place. I said to her, “Can you take me away from this?” She was all like, “Sure.” So off to the dreadcouch we went.
Travis was already mid dance when we sat down waiting for the next song. He had this look of elation that is hard to really explain or understand. I tried to make small talk with the nice young girl I was sitting with. I mostly just wanted to say, “You’re cute and friendly, how the hell did you end up here?” But I couldn’t do it, it was all just too sad. It came time for the next song. I was mildly shocked to see Travis order up a second dance. My dance started, it was weird, she was nice, but it felt like she was weirded out by the fact that I was being respectful and not roughly groping all up on her. This made me even more sad.
The dances ended and Travis and myself regrouped at the bar. I told him we had to finish our drinks and get to heck out. He was greatly saddened but agreed.
I then went home and killed myself.
Well OK, not really, but dang I felt like I had bottom part of society scraped across my face and it did not fill me with joy. But the funny thing was, after just a heinous experience, all I could think about was wanting to take my other friends there and subjecting them to it. Does that make me a bad person? In any case it all went for naught because I never stepped foot in La Chambra ever again. My soul thanks me for it daily.
-Ray