December 1, 2011 by Manny Wordsmith
I had just gotten back from my tour in Iraq and planned for a sleazy night on the trashed and ransacked streets of Frankfurt, Germany’s Red light District.
The town was my Mecca.
My friends and I didn’t feel comfortable anywhere else. Which is funny because almost everyone else we knew felt the complete opposite about Frankfurt. They were afraid.
Yes, it has drug dealers, crackheads, pimps, prostitutes and tyrannies, but what major city doesn’t? To be afraid of a city that’s searing with questionable sorts, back alley mischief, and a soul sucking sex business, is to be afraid of what truly makes you human!
So it’s not crazy at all that me, Raul and CG were in Frankfurt this night to look for a stripper named Kelly…right?
Kelly (Which can’t possibly her real name) has a lot of history with the crew. And for that, she deserves her own origin story. But for now, just know that she was a beautiful, dark-haired, brazilian exotic dancer, who hung up the thong and lacy bra for a short time to live life as a bartender. And where does she set up shop?
The Brazilian themed bar was squished between a Doner Kabap stand and a hotel. The place immediately reminded me of the song “Girl From Ipanema” by Asturd Gilberto and Stan Getz
When we walked in I was half expecting to see a group of Cigar Aficionados discussing tobacco trades and making cat calls toward uninterested girls wearing colorful short skirts. I know those generalizations are trifle, but everything I knew about Brazilian people before that point came from the couple Brazilian strippers I knew, and the segment in the Disney movie “The Three Caballeros” where Donald Duck visits Copacabana and gets taught how to samba…by this lady.
I didn’t see anything I expected see. I guess the bar itself looked more like the cartoon than anything. Lots of colorful banners and vintage drink ads with pin-up girls posing with lit cigarettes between their fingers. But the patrons were the same heartbroken Germans, looking to feed off the twinkle slowly fading in the eyes of the women of the night. Home, sweet home.
When we met eyes with Kelly, she was both pleasantly surprised and kind of nervous, but so were we. We had no idea how to talk to a stripper with clothes on. It was like trying to talk to Santa Claus in the summertime. Do you ask for gifts? Or do you just make small talk and hope he’ll just give you one? What can you possibly bring up?
“You look good girl!”
Yup…her looks. We complemented her like her clothing was her “new outfit” and her exposed chocolate skin was the comfy “hoodie and jeans” we were used to seeing her in.
It was awkward, but it made sense. Up to that point we had never seen her that way. It was almost sexier. Raul, who was closet to her out of all of us, continued to play catch-up as I sat at the bar and CG, um, wandered.
I was blown away when I turned to my left to see a sexy blond American woman, sipping a mixed drink and staring my clothes off. I calmly said hello and began to introduce myself, politely ignoring the fact that she just had sex with me in her mind.
She returned the hellos and started a textbook round of flirtation.
Flicking the hair? Check.
Touching his forearm? Check.
Laughing at all his stupid jokes and sounding abnormally interested in his job? Check and Check!
She told me how she was travelling throughout Europe to finally escape her crazy mother and to see what lies beyond South Bend, Indiana. She wasn’t the smartest, but the way she put her words together was refreshing. Her clear and precise wit enthused me, reminding my starving ears that there’s more out there than foul-mouthed female soldiers and Thai girls who only speak in yells.
The woman seemed to have scooted closer with every syllable. So now a hand that started on my forearm,
“I’m so glad that you serve our country,” she said, winking.
suddenly ended up on my leg.
But before I could even say anything about her newly place hand, a man sits to the right of me. And guess who he was?
I yelled in the inside, but played it cool. I didn’t want to get into a fight. But as I introduced myself and the woman happily explained that the man next to me was her man. Then things got weird. First off, this guy sat close. Not “let me make you uncomfortable so you walk away” close. No. It was more like, “this other side of you seems uncomforted, how about I give you a thrilling convo on this side while my wife gives you one on that side!”
The writing was on the wall, but I didn’t see it. The man who looked like a younger version of Bill Nye the Science Guy sat almost snuggle-close to me as his “Wife” still continued to flirt with me. Then it hit me.
“They’re BOTH flirting with me!”
I wasn’t positive, but my confusion was enough to make me more nervous than I planned on being that night. So I rose off my seat and went straight to the digital jukebox. I stood there, pretending to scroll through songs, attempting to formulate an idea that could get this woman alone. But my fate seemed dismel when I over heard the woman say,
“He has a cute ass huh?” And the man say, “Oh yeah, definitely!”
My friends and I got out of that bar as soon as possible.
And till this day, I never knew what the “couple’s” plan was. But all I know is that I put myself in the line of fire of sexual predators, just to see a stripper with her clothes ON! Such is life.
Well worth it?