Two lonely college students go to Kahoots completely sober on a Monday night at 7 p.m. and stay for an unprecedented two-and-a-half hours.
Awkward nervousness has been and always will be a cornerstone of my personality. Never is my nervousness more painfully obvious than when I have to touch other people, like that horrible moment when you go for the handshake and the other person goes for the hug and then your hand just gets wedged in their stomach and you laugh loudly and bristle in the embrace. In a league of its own, however, is getting the old boobs-in-the-face.
I usually embarrass myself daily, and while my embarrassment often comes in the form of IM-ing the wrong person at the wrong hour (EdithDontPlay: I’sn sooo drunk righ tnow, can I coem over? SmarterChild: Excuse me?) or wearing whites after Labor Day, today it came in the form of large fake breasts.
I figured Kahoots, of route 91 “Lunch with a view” fame, as all good New England students know, would be No Touching. I found that quite the opposite was the case.
My companion, who, for purposes of anonymity we’ll call “Jeremiah Friedman ’05”, bought me a couple dances, most notably with Nikki, a buxom and friendly Scot. She gyrated in front of me and put her, um, warm, nice-smelling boobs in my face. It was a little unexpected, so I froze up, because I don’t know the decorum for that kind of stuff.
“Shouldn’t you be in school? Don’t you have homework to be doing?” Nikki teased.
“Yeah, I do actually.”
“Where do you go?”
“Wesleyan.”
“Get out!! I went to Wesleyan!”
“No way!”
“Yes way! It was back when we could do the chalking thing.”
“Oh, neat. Wow, this is so neat!”
“Hey—my friend from Wesleyan is on a Fullbright in Madagascar right now, I mean, you should really take advantage of the great opportunities there.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to do my best.”
Jeremiah and I were so in love with Nikki at this point, we hardly knew what to say.
I also had this dizzying triple-consciousness going on: 1—When the stripper is snapping her underwear in my face, do I look at her crotch, her boobs, or the TV behind her head? 2—When every dude there is watching my reaction to the boobs in my face because I’m the only girl, should I look serious and confident, or should I grin like an idiot? And finally, 3—Never, ever have I been more excruciatingly aware of my own sobriety, not even that time when I ate that entire cake to make it seem like I was high.
On another note, I think the secret to strippers’ appeal is their beautiful skin and the fact that they always smell so good. Jeremiah concurs, but finds their general nudity compelling as well—“Or so I’ve heard.” The girls here are pretty in a realistic way, even though parts of them, like nails, nipple rings, and plastic shoes, glow neon in the black light. My dental work glows too, so we have that in common.
Even though the girls at Kahoots seem approachable, quite a few of them are putting on a bitchy act, particularly the one in the farmer’s daughter outfit, who Jeremiah has a crush on. She, like everyone else, ignores us.
And this is the strange part—no one seems interested in our money, and it’s not a very sexually charged atmosphere. The girls are hanging out, chatting with regulars, and eating dinner. “This is weird,” Jeremiah says, “usually as soon as you sit down, they come and swarm around you trying to get you to buy a lap dance… Or so I’ve heard. Here it’s like, eh, I’d rather watch TV.”
Kahoots is a nice place though—really impressive bar, surprisingly good food, and a curious ivory bust of Beethoven presiding over the stage. Of course, the beer is expensive, but it’s not so bad, and there’s a free buffet during the halftime of Monday Night Football.
Plus, ladies get in free, and that’s five more dollars I can spend trying to lure Bianca or the bitchy farmer’s daughter over to Jeremiah.
I might have even lost a little awkward nervousness tonight, because that last time Nikki put her boobs in my face I was practically debonair. Well no, actually I wasn’t.
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