My whole life I’d never had any desire whatsoever to go to a strip club, and I told my friends’ this on many occasions. I said the whole thing just seemed very depressing. But one year on my birthday they absolutely insisted. They said the fact that I was turning 22 and hadn’t been to one before was "tragic." Nevertheless, it was my birthday, which meant I would never get what I wanted, so we ended up at a small club called Magic Gardens at 5:45 in the afternoon. Portland has the highest number of strip clubs per capita in the world*, so it is known for having some of the most unique establishments, such as Acropolis where one can order a fine steak dinner while taking in the performance, and the Dancing Bare which has an illuminated sign with a picture of a bear crossed out, and a naked lady circled next to it, so as to avoid any confusion. Magic Gardens’ “thing” is that it boasts an impressive jukebox and the strippers get to pick their songs off it before they dance. My friends like to go there because instead of your typical “Cherry Pie” and “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” the strippers are more likely to choose some underground 80’s tracks or Pavement.
