Posted on March 2, 2011
I walked into the dark musky smelling room alone, and nervous. I had never been here before, and quite frankly felt completely out of my element. I headed for the emptiness in the far back corner and sat my bottom on the hard leather seat. Black Velvet was playing on the sound system, but there was no one on yet. I looked around and was pleased I didn´t recognize a soul in the room as I placed my ice-cold beverage in the cup holder in front of me. I wanted to take off my thin cotton jacket, but was uncertain as to where I should place it, so I kept it on.
The lights dimmed and a spotlight turned it´s attention to the front of the room. There was no real stage per say, just a designated area, front and center. Joe Cocker´s You can Leave Your Hat On set the mood as our focal point made a grand entrance. Long, lean, and muscular; but, surprisingly older than expected. Not to mention, this person seemed too cheerful and bubbly for this somber after work crowd. But clearly had a following of regulars that didn´t mind the silliness. After a small warm-up, the object of our attention began toying with the audience, and the room really began to heat up. I heard zippers unfasten, and slowly watched clothing removed and dropped to the floor. Sweat was dripping down the tanned mounds of flesh in front of me. My heart rate was definitely increasing as the perfectly choreographed routine moved up and down in front of me in sequence with the seductive music.
Admittedly my groin was beginning to throb, and I needed a distraction. More songs play loudly, complete with rehearsed routines, and suddenly the room went dark.
Tiny white lights lit up the entire ceiling like stars. The heavy based intro to AC/DC´s Back in Black began thumping it´s familiar rhythmic thumps. And instantly I was reminded of the greatest pleasure spot ever.
The Miracle Strip Amusement park in Panama City Beach, Florida. Crazy how thoughts pop into my head from nowhere. Regardless, it was the distraction I needed. I pictured myself sitting in one of the scrambler seats of The Abominable Snowman Ride. Looking at nothing but stars in the black painted, dome-shaped ceiling. This delightful Miracle Strip-tease took my mind off my surroundings. And in a flash, with no impressive finale, my ninety minute Spinning Class was over. Outside the box from my typical yoga studio, but worth the time, money, and sore privates.
Hey Florida Panhandlers,
For your own Striptease, check out the only memories from the Miracle Strip I could find on Youtube. It deserved better!