I went with friend-of-a-friend Colin Carter to Scores for their Superbowl party – where you could get lap dances during the halftime show! Here’s our takeaway:
His Take: The Scores Super Bowl party was just weird. For $30, attendees were given access to the club, where the game was projected on a big screen, as well as all-you-can-scavenge privileges from a buffet. The food wasn’t bad. Not great, but definitely tolerable if the traditional Super Bowl chili/burger/wings thing is your game.
I think we were both surprised by just how tame the whole affair was. If you stared especially hard at the screen, you could easily have forgotten you were in a strip club. The cocktail waitresses were showing a bit more skin than at an Applebee’s, and there were a few surgically augmented girls sitting around the club watching the game, but there wasn’t too much that really screamed “strip club!” about the evening.
That is, until halftime.
It was as if somebody flipped a switch, and the low-key Super Bowl viewing party instantly transformed into a full-fledged strip club. The disco ball began spinning, the music began pumping, and the game’s projection was overlaid by the silhouette of a topless girl dancing on the stage in front of it. For the next 30 minutes, a succession of girls rotated across the club’s stages, while others looked for guys who might be willing to part with their cash in exchange for a lap dance. Meanwhile, the club’s announcer fed us up-to-the-minute news about what girls were available in what VIP or champagne room. It seemed that an unusual number of girls working at this club have names like “Aries” and “Sapphire.” I’m guessing this is because they were all raised by hippy parents.
And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The announcer even told the girl who had just made it on stage to move along, as the game was beginning again. It honestly seemed like the club was more interested in playing the game than raking in any cash from the crowd. And, for some reason, I find this to be oddly noble.
Anyway, in all, the evening was interesting, but it probably would have been more exciting if Jennifer and I were bigger football fans, or had some reason to care about whether Green Bay or Pittsburgh won (like 98% of America, we have no connection to either town.) She seemed mildly uncomfortable the whole time, and I honestly think this had less to do with the fact that were at a strip club, then the fact that we were sitting near a couple that consisted of a (we’re assuming) working girl, and a guy who reeked of douche-baggery. He literally threw a bunch of dollar bills at her chest at one point, just minutes after trying to kiss her. It obviously put a bad taste in her mouth.
Did I like Jen? Sure. She seemed great. Maybe we’ll go Chippendale’s for the second date?
Her take: About four hours before I went to Scores, I went to my pilates class. It’s usually just twenty or so women, but it was one of those days where one dude had decided to come in. I resented him for being there. Not because he was doing anything wrong. He seemed nice, he was just grunting, and using the 15 pound weights when everyone else was using 5, and generally dragging his maleness around all over the place, and it was irritating – because honestly, I just want to be schlumpy and wear sweatpants when I’m doing pilates and not worry about the opposite sex.
And then I realized, “Oh, God. Going into Scores for their Superbowl party, I’m going to be like that one dude in the pilates class. All the guys there are going to hate me just for being there.”
But it actually wasn’t like that! I don’t think! I hope not!
At the very least, it seemed like there were lots of other women in there. They weren’t strippers. They were just watching the game, maybe with male friends or associates. There were booths and tables, and Scores pretty much felt like a normal club. The whole place was much less intimidating and more female-friendly than I expected it to be.
Especially since when we walked in, no one was stripping. The manager explained to me (I think I must have looked crushed by the lack of stripping) that the dancers were around, and they’d be performing when the halftime show came on. I kept looking around and trying to tell who was a stripper. This meant that Colin and I could play a guessing game called “stripper or sassy dresser?” which is sort of like a grown up “Where’s Waldo?”
Colin seemed really nice – and he seemed extra nice compared to one guy we were sitting next to who kept making tonguing motions at his lady-friend. I kept hoping for the sake of her dignity that she was a prostitute, because otherwise she was out on a date with a guy who kept waggling his tongue at her and patting her cleavage as though it was a small dog.
When the strippers came on, honestly, it was a little weird. Not because it was offensive, I just didn’t know where to look. Ogling the strippers just seemed impolite so I found myself desperately trying to watch Will.i.am’s halftime-show robot dance, which was being projected on the screen behind them.
Still, I was really impressed by the girls’ flexibility – such as I have never seen, even in pilates class – and I thought it was nice that a bunch of different body types were represented. I’d sort of expected them all to be blond D-cups, and it was cool to see that wasn’t the case. I felt like maybe Colin was trying a little hard to impress me with his sensitivity when he looked at one of the strippers and said “you know, she seems really young. That’s someones daughter up there,” (I told him I was sure she was fine, probably stripping her way through law school) but that was sort of sweet.
I don’t think Scores is going to become one of my regular hangouts, but the environment is probably a good way to tell if your date is a douchebag or not. And it definitely made up for my disappointment about their being no halftime cheerleaders.