Girls’ Guide To the American Stripclub
I‘m something of an accidental strip-club frequenter. I’ve patronized clubs from Vegas’s Spearmint Rhino to a Detroit 8-Mile staple called the Coliseum to the tin-roof patchwork, double-wide glory of the Beehive in Western PA. I’ve seen a myriad of dancers and calibers from bottle service and burlesque to misspelled pubic tattoos and bullet holes in the bathroom.