It’s Xxxena, Princess of Porn! At least that’s what the sign outside the Safari announced this week. Based on her gallery, I’m going to say she’ll be about the sixth or seventh best looking girl in there. Think I’ll pass.
I guess I should have known better than to venture out on the Saturday before Halloween. There’s been much grousing this year about the fact the big day fell smack in the middle of the week, rather than closer to the weekend. That meant most of the Halloween frolicking happened last Saturday. Just my luck.
Safari has been on my radar for a while. If you’re a regular reader of John Canzano, you’ll know Darius and Zach have been there a time or two. A commenter at Jack Bog’s blog mentioned Darius had been there fairly recently and he seemed cool. Still, after dark that stretch of Powell seems to get a little sketchy. Go just a few blocks south, and it’s felony flats. And don’t get me started on the Motel 6 next door. Mix all that together, and what could possibly go wrong?
Pulling into the parking lot, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. In fact, I almost left. The lot itself isn’t that well lit and there didn’t seem to be much in the way of security near the door. Both raise major red flags when going into a new place. But the guy leaving seemed normal enough and that was that. I parked around back and headed in.
The girl at the front door asked me for my ID and seemed almost apologetic when she asked for a $5 cover. $5 is pretty standard for a Saturday night. Some places charge a little more, some a little less. But $5? Whatever. I paid and made my way around the corner.
The first thing I saw was an empty stage surrounded by white tapestry arranged to look like clouds. It’s never a good sign when the first stage is empty. Slow night? Dunno. I worked my way back, looking for the bar and an ATM. I was going to treat myself to a lap dance.
I approached the bar and proceeded to get ignored for a good two minutes as the bartender stood at the far end and talked up a regular. I’m not accustomed to the topless bartender scene. In fact, this is the first place I’ve been to where the bartenders dressed like dancers. Miss Chatty was dressed in a black number that was more Fredricks of Hollywood than Victoria’s Secret. A lot of black and straps. She’s a tight little spinner who didnt seem to be too into her gig. After a few minutes, another girl showed up and took my order. She was much more personable than girl #1. That probably had a lot to do with the fact she talked to me. Her get-up wasn’t nearly as up-front as Girl #1’s. In fact, she looked normal. That was until she turned around to get my beer. Then I saw she was wearing a very short dress and some sexy fishnets. Oh goodness. My weakness. I ended up drinking more than normal just so I could watch her move across the floor. Heaven.
After I got my beer, I headed down to the main stage to see what was going on. Two stairs lead from the bar to the main stage area. It’s a pit, I guess. There are two stages up against the wall, each with plenty of real estate for the girls to do their thing. They seem much larger, I think, because they don’t feature seating all the way around. For some reason girls always seem further away when there’s not another set of eyes at the other side of the stage.
The first girl up was a spinner not unlike bartender #1. She came over and immediately asked if I came there often. That question is becoming sort of tiresome. Either a) she hasn’t danced there very long, or b) she hasn’t built up much of a rap. In her case, I’m gonna take b. Nice enough girl. Brunette and flexible. She pulled herself up on the bar that ran on the ceiling parallel to the stage and pulled her body all the way through her arms. I’m sure there’s a technical gymnast term for it. I’ll just call it painful. Whereas some girls like to crawl along the stage, forcing you to move your drink (Club 205) and others spend a lot of time gyrating on the ground (Dolphin I), girls at Safari like to stand on the edge of the stage and hold on to that bar up above for balance. It forces the customer to sit waaay back in their chair if they want to get a good look. It’s fine, I guess. But I sure do like to hunch over my drink and look down upon the world. Alas that’s not what we’re at the club for.
Safari’s website doesn’t feature any of the girls I saw Saturday, so unfortunately I’m not going to be much help in that department. In fact, the site features more white girls than I saw all night. So too does their MySpace page. Interesting.
There wasn’t a ton of physical interaction with the dancers. For the most part, they stayed on their side, I on mine. One notable exception was a very affectionate girl who put one leg on each of my shoulders and rubbed them back and forth on my face. Oh my.
After a bit a couple came and joined me on the rail. The girl looked like Jennifer Coolidge but dressed like a Hee Haw Honey. She may have been drunk. Not sure. What I am sure of though was she was annoying. She started putting dollar bills inside her bra and telling dancers to come get them. Then she moved to her mouth. It was supposed to be hot, I guess. The problems started when she became all hands as the girls came to get their singles. Girls had to ask her more than once not to touch. Did she listen? Ummmm….no.
When the craziness starts to happen, that’s when I know it’s time to head for the door. As I turned around to leave, I found one guy dressed as a dog and another dressed as Lil Jon. Although I suspect the Lil Jon getup wasn’t for Halloween. The place had turned into Club Mescaline and nothing good can come from that.
Safari was a much better club than I expected and will definitely be on my list of places to visit when I don’t want to hike all the way to Beaverton.