Boys' Night Out.

So first things first.

My friend Joey is leaving for the Navy in four days. I have begged him endlessly to alter his decision, and unfortunately he continues to posit that this represents the best possible move for him at this moment.

I disagree. However, I am attempting to be a supportive friend.

Today, he and our friend Sam arrived in the thriving frigid metropolis in which I currently reside (a city in which you no longer live, just in case you had forgotten) sometime in the early evening. Kent had planned a quiet evening of drinking and merriment for himself, his cousin, Sam, Joey, and me, starting with dinner at a burger joint then relocating to The Library to socialize and check out the local wildlife.

Things were all going according to plan until from nowhere, someone SOMEWHERE in the bar yells 'STRIP CLUB!' This of course planted the seed of BOOBS in the heads of the four gentlemen I was with, and I can hardly blame them. We left the bar about an hour before last call and headed to Deja Vu downtown, where I quickly learned that strip clubs don't vaguely resemble that scene I love so from Varsity Blues.

THEY ARE EXACTLY ALIKE.

Five minutes in the door, Joey buys himself a hundred-dollar lapdance and heads upstairs with a charming young lady (whose name I didn't quite catch). We see him sparingly through the rest of the night and at one point resort to taking away his credit card.

Anyway, my personal favorite moment of the evening was when the five of us were approached by a dancer, who greeted us warmly with 'How are we doing tonight, gentlemen?' before realizing one of us was, in fact, female. This error would have been easy enough to cover up, but (and not to stereotype) I'm pretty sure this particular woman was neither in the appropriate frame of mind nor intelligent enough to avoid babbling apologies when she discovered that HEY YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH TITS AT THIS TABLE.

Guess I really am just one of the boys now.