Let me start by saying I have been to Close Encounters on a few occasions. Before we bought our house and became river yankees, we lived about 5 miles away from CE - a straight shot down the highway. One of the most successful bike shows we ever had (this year will make 16th annual) was in their parking lot. They have the sweetest piece of asphalt in the entire county.
The owner built the establishment from the ground up, fighting many county officials (he was totally in the right, mindful of all ordinances in place at the time). It's not a bad place. Their poles are weird though. The ceilings are HIGH so the poles are mounted to the stage and it is kind of weird to watch it sway as it is being performed upon. I wonder if that affects their workman's comp rates? Also, there's a big fuzzy pink pump chair thing too. Weird. I have spent/wasted a lot of time thinking about how I could make that club better. But I've always been too chicken shit to go for it. I am ruled by a steady paycheck.
I've ended up there after a few parties because it's fun. And some of these girls are mama's trying to put food on the table. I'm smart enough to know that some of these ladies are not. The last time I went I swore I would go back with no money but a basket of sammiches because, DAMN GIRL!! Don't forget to EAT! Some of them are so skinny I bet a lap dance would feel like a stabbing.
I've only had one experience with Playmates. Playmates is a fantasy club. Let's back up a minute...back story is crucial on this one. The building used to be a crematorium (you kill em, we grill em). When the crematorium went out of business the building sat empty for a while and we spent a good amount of time watching someone work on it. Then the sign went up. And wow, did we ever get a good laugh at that one.
At the time I was dating a guy who lived out of town. He came down one weekend, we went and picked up my good girlfriend and went out for dinner and drinks. We stopped at Close Encounters for a bit and decided to head home. Playmates is conveniently located about two miles down the highway. I don't remember who suggested it but a u-turn was executed and we pulled into the parking lot at Playmates. There was some "OK, OK, be calm and act right" discussion and we went in the door. (One dude with two chicks walks into a fantasy factory...)
The foyer looked like a doctor's office complete with sliding glass window. No one was at the window so we had plenty of time to wait and read all the interesting signs posted. Their county license was displayed as well as some paperwork from the heath department. Health. Department. No, it wasn't a left over notice for the crematorium. It was a list of health rules the staff must abide by. You would be pleased to know that our county health department says your fantasy can include the staff being completely naked...except shoes must be worn at all times. Thanks for keeping me safe, clean and healthy local government. I'd be really concerned if they weren't wearing shoes.
Someone finally showed up at the window and we were advised our fantasy could be obtained for 15 minutes and $40. We were still reeling over the shoe issue and decided to leave. The trip was still entertaining even though we didn't get any fantasy action.
The Smile Spa was lovingly and carefully risen from the crumbly dusty frame of a FISH HOUSE out in the country. You wouldn't believe how much money I spent on shrimp, oysters and fish in that building. When I noticed the run-down, closed fish shack getting some TLC and a nice face lift I'd wondered how any fisherman could have spent that kind of money in these harder fishing times. Then the sign was put up and I knew I wouldn't be giving up any kind of clam monies in there. I love driving by it though, I always look at the husband and say, "You want happy ending?" in my best Asian massage spa lady voice.
I didn't even know Calabash was getting any action these days. I don't go to the Seafood Capital of the Word too often because tourists make me rage. I'll keep my eyes open though the next time I go. At least now I know I can get a massage after Johnny New Jersey drives SLOW in front of me with his left blinker on, only to slam on the brakes and instead turn right to buy $1.99 Myrtle Beach tshirts at the Waves.