In the Restroom of The Pink Pony

Here is what it's like in the ladies' room of The Pink Pony, which is a strip club. Yes, with female strippers. Don't worry how I know these things; just read.

First of all, if you are a female customer, you will be sharing a restroom with the strippers. Just outside the restroom is a rack with all manner of costumes hanging on it, but you never really get to look at it because you're trying to act like you're very cool as you stroll into the strippers' domain. You also wait as long as you possibly can to pee, which actually works out well because by the time you finally have to, you're too drunk to care that you're the least attractive woman in the vicinity. Oh and you are--I can promise you.

As you walk into the restroom, to your left there is a bank of small lockers, just big enough to hold a purse, maybe. The lockers are decorated with stickers, with names written in sparkly nail polish, with photos of babies who are presumably sleeping peacefully at home. To your right there is a counter with sinks in it, and a big mirror that you never ever look in, again not wanting to know how you compare to the strippers. All over the counter are bottles of perfume and lotion, a hundred bottles, or two hundred. Strippers always smell good.

There is an older black lady (hmm, wait a minute, you might be as cute as she is) who sits under the paper towel dispenser and will hand you one when you finish washing your hands. And of course there are strippers in there: talking on cellphones, changing, smoking, fixing their hair and makeup. Stripper wannabes are filling out job applications. All these people ignore you, not unkindly.

There are only two stalls in the bathroom and neither has a lock. You pull your shirt down to cover as much of yourself as possible, just in case somebody accidentally busts in on your fat ass, but nobody does. A sign on the wall says, "Only one person to a stall, please." You have to wonder about that. Do people go in together to do drugs? To have girly sex? Hmm. Signs on the inside of the stall door instruct the strippers as to what drinks to order if a customer offers them one (high-priced champagne cocktails). You make a mental note to share this tidbit with your husband. Then you sashay back to your table where your husband has no idea what you just saw.