I Went To A Bachelor Party At The Foxy Lady In Providence So It’s Only Right That I Do A Strip Club Review

Before we start I want to acknowledge the fact that this is literally the least gay thing I could write for Barstool Sports dot com. It’s just that the experience was so out of the ordinary for me that I feel like I have to blog it. I’ve been to strip clubs before (not my idea) but only in New York. The last time I went was with Asa, Glenny, and a bunch of his short Italian friends. It was fun but it was nothing like what I went through this weekend. The location, the lay out, the vibe, everything about it was different. I digress.

Marriage probably isn’t on a lot of our younger readers’ radar. Once you get into your mid to late twenties it will be. Over the past three years I’ve gone to over a dozen weddings. Some of them sucked, some of them didn’t. I’ve also been to about a dozen bachelor parties. Like weddings, those can be a hit or a miss. I’m fortunate enough to only have attended hits. I was scheduled to go to a miss once and ended up backing out at the last second. In hindsight it was selfish, but then again, I’d rather wash down a Central Park horse turd with Mountain Dew than go hiking in upstate New York

Regardless, I had a great time this weekend. Things started off relatively tame; we made our rounds to a few bars, had a nice dinner, and then went home to change before heading out to “the club.” (Off the record, I was hoping everyone would get so drunk that we didn’t have to go, however that ended up not happening.) Earlier in the week my brother had told me a story about how in college he sold his TV to a stripper from The Foxy, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I also questioned everything I’ve ever known about him but that’s a story for another time.

We arrived at the freestanding Foxy Lady around 10:30 PM. The first thing I noticed is that the building is sandwiched in between a bunch of houses. Why anyone would want to live in that neighborhood is beyond me. Maybe they have a strong school system? Whatever the case, it was very different from the sign-less dungeons here in Manhattan. Here’s a photo of the exterior.

I think the last time they updated it was forty years ago when it opened. Granted, this picture was taken during the day. At night it’s lit up with purple and pink neon lights, which make it slightly more appealing. I decided to reserve judgment until I entered the establishment knowing that strip clubs are about what’s on the inside, not the outside.

We made our way through security, who for some reason made us take our belts off, and walked towards the main bar. The first thing I noticed, other than my friend’s older brother, were the number of women walking around. I’m not going to judge them because I’m not Ralph Cifaretto, but I will say that most of them were gorgeous. It was like a room full of slightly less feminine Justin Biebers.

The club itself was clean and well-lit. There were three main stages, two indoor bars, and an outdoor bar that was closed. It had the aesthetic appeal of a bowling alley and the smell of a casino. The only thing that made it seem like a strip club were the boobies. We sat down at the bar where I avoided eye contact with the strippers out of fear that I’d have to buy a dance. One of them almost got me but I managed to get out of it by pointing her towards the bachelor. The only other contact I had with a dancer was when I took money off the stage, which is apparently a big no-no. I put five bucks down to get my friend a dance and when she didn’t come over I took it back. Next thing I knew she was accusing me of stealing her money. Security came over, placed his hand on my shoulder, and informed me that if I “stole” from the stripper again I’d be escorted out of the building. I wanted to turn around and judo chop him but I didn’t feel like hurting the guy.

Other than that, it was a pleasant experience. The wait staff was attentive and friendly. The music wasn’t too loud. The layout made sense. My only complaint would be that it was filled with strippers. Although even they started to grow on me by the end of the night. Which I guess is their job? I don’t know.

Thankfully the night ended prematurely when my friend got kicked out for trying to make his butt cheeks clap on stage. He tried to get out of it by telling the bouncer he was playing Simon Says but it didn’t work. Shame on the bar for over serving him.

If I had to grade the overall experience I would give it a B+. Or 4.1 Glenny Balls. Or 7.1 on the one bite scale. Obviously, I’ll never go back, but as far as strip clubs go it was pretty good. I have two more bachelor parties this summer so I may make this my new franchise. It’d be nice to get some cameras in there and make it a video series, although considering they all have a strict no cell phone policy you may just have to use your imaginations.

PS: I will never not think of Sally O’Mally when it comes to exotic dancing.