Centerville

Remember Zappa, I think in his Flo and Eddie phase . . . There was a song about 'Centerville, a nice place to raise up your kids.'  Well, I stopped by Centerville tonight and found that the boys are all grown up and dancing naked on the bar. 

Centerville is east of St. Louis -- across the river -- in Illinois.  It's this weird little nothing of a town that has an area on it's east side called Four Corners.  It ought to be called Four Tittie Bars, because that's what's there.  Except one of the tittie bars, called Boxers and Briefs, has male dancers.  And they dance naked except for their socks, just like they do in Washington D.C. 

Unfortunately, they were having a variety show tonight.  That means a handful of really bad drag queens were lipsynching non stop for two hours.  Oh, the boys continued to grind on the bar, but there were all of these shrieking queens disrupting the festivities.  I mean, does anyone really believe anybody came there to see a drag show? 

Anyway, some of the boys were extra friendly -- I mean that in the most virtuous of ways -- and others were extra slutty (I had one crouch down and whisper in my ear that he'd do a private lap dance for $5 and let me do him for $40.  I appreciated the offer, but as we all know, that's not exactly my thing. 

Of course, there was the obligatory boy with the big weenie.  He showered for everyone and lathered up real good.  But he had such an attitude.  I guess that goes with being the boy with the big weenie.  I mean after 20 years of everybody only being interested in your equipment would sour anyone's attitude.  Every time he danced over to me I just ignored him. 

Then there was Daniel, a pudgy young thing with a big smile.  He told me this was his third night dancing there.  I say he was pudgy -- and he was -- but he was also really cute.  I stuffed a number of dollars in his socks . . . but then he seemed to get nervous and sorta disappeared.  I think he was either self conscious -- so often these guys are mostly straight, just gay for pay and, well  . . . I don't guess it's easy. 

Finally there was a young black guy, Conner.  He kept his glasses on as he danced and looked a little like a nerd with a great body.  Conner's specialty was hanging from a pipe that ran the length of the ceiling around the bar.  He'd hook one calf over the bar and do this very muscular dancing thing upside down.  He was incredibly artistic . . . very different from the other bump and grinders.  Watching him was like watching a naked Alvin Ailey dancer upside down.  He explained to me when I complimented him that he was trying to see the ceiling as the floor and the floor as the ceiling and trying to use gravity to dance in a new way.  I asked what on earth he was doing here dancing on a bar in east podunk.  He should be in New York or LA or San Francisco dancing seriously, not provocatively.  He explained that he was in school, studying business and real estate and that this 'job' helped pay his tuition.  He was very well spoken. 

I asked one of the guys how this place was able to operate.  'I'd expect the Centerville police to burst in and shut you down at any moment, ' I said. 

'I don't think so,' the dancer replied.  'We pay them something like $30,000 a year to leave us alone.  They better.'

There were more dancers than customers -- probably because it's a Thursday night, and as always I had a wonderful time.  I even drank non-alcoholic beer.  I'd seen several cops on the drive in and just had a feeling that this was probably not the place to have a real beer and drive away from.  It didn't impeed my ability to have a fabulous time. 

Now, I know:  you're probably picturing this steamy slutty dive that's full of hustlers -- male prostitutes.  You're probably pumping the sleeze factor way up.  And, hell, i guess that's true.  It is a horible dive.  And there are definitely boys in the place who will do it for a dollar or two.  But, as always, that's not what I saw.  I saw fascinating story after fascinating story. 

What's it like to be the boy with the big dick?  Do Conner's classmates know what he does?  And pudgy Daniel: how does he explain his job to his girlfriend (he most certainly has one).  And why oh why do any of these guys do this at all.  I mean, they are out in the middle of nowhere;  best I can tell, they'd probably go home with more cash if they worked at MacDonalds.  And they were all pretty hot; any of them could be dancing away in any club in one of the gay meccas, naked or not and making lots more money. 

But here they are.  I wonder sometimes if people's perceptions of their own limits, their own situations, keep them caged where they are.  Well, that's a stupid statement.  Of course they do.  It works in my own life.  I have avoided taking the next step listening to my internal talk that said, 'Don't risk it; you are this, not that.' 

As I drove the thirty minutes back across the river and to my hotel in Forest Park, my thoughts turned to Conner.  He really was a delight.  And bright, too. When he was describing his special relationship with gravity to me, it was clear he knew the science and the physics of what he was doing. 

I'm here in St. Louis for the weekend.  I'm totally booked tomorrw and am going to try to set up some meetings for Saturday . . . but Sunday if free.  I'm looking forward to exploring this strange city.  I'm already impressed:  it's big and it's modern and it's remarkably hip.  I think I could like St. Louis.