Last night I was lost and found myself drawn toward a purple light, which gave an allure of nightclub. I approached the massive doors to read the sign above that said, "Club Silk, an American club." I went to open the door and realized I had to ring a bell. A beautiful woman cracked the door open to talk to me. I asked if she would speak English with me. She said of course. I told her I was American, and lost, and what not. Apparently I passed inspection, which presumably included identifying me as male, because the next thing she did was open the large door under the purple lights to reveal the plush interior of Club Silk. She turned to her colleague and said, "He is American," and walked away to let them deal with me. I knew the moment I realised I had to ring a doorbell that it was not a nightclub, but I was damn curious by then. The mystique lingered a moment longer as I peered in through the open door to the harem of barely dresed femmes slowly coming into view. When I asked where I was, they replied, "This is a strip club."
I was definitely not in the mood for a strip club last night (though under the circumstances it certainly felt like a warm port on a cold stretch of road), but it made for a vivid memory. I especially liked being recognized as a friendly face and welcomed in, even if they were a bit off the mark.
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