So the Outhouse was sort of insane. It is perfect. As a reincarnation of a formidable old…read morepunk/hardcore venue goes, just... Perfect. It's probably built on top of a hellmouth. I used to go there a LOT in the late 80s and 90s for punk/hardcore shows back when it was all about trashcan fires in the parking lot and mayhem inside. I got a broken nose there once when someone who was hanging from a ceiling beam above the mosh pit fell on my face. I heard so many insane stories about the Outhouse as a strip club that it didn't seem impossible that it might not get broken again, maybe back in the other direction to straighten it? Going was on my Kansas bucket list, but I couldn't get anyone to go with me until last night.
My date and I survived and nothing dread happened, even though - my hand to heaven - it was an awful lot like rolling in to a much, much lower budgeted version of the Titty Twister from "Dusk til Dawn" - no lie. My super nerdy date and I were basically Harvey Keitel in glasses x2. It was a ton of fun. Less neon, more diverse. Bikers, cholos, bangers, rednecks, frat boys, and one table of East Indian semester abroad students who were at their first strip club ever, I'm pretty sure - they were *beside themselves* - all were coexisting peacefully under the watchful gaze of gentle giants (the MC/bouncer has such a sweet personality - great big beardy guy who looks like he could handle anything from a zombie outbreak to making a pancake breakfast - the door guy was also a sweetie) - and under the extraordinarily excessive ministrations of the dancers - shady ladies with sharp eyes, soft curves, masked but still perceptibly dangerous expressions, and no apparent legal limits as to services rendered (in plain view) - not sure what kind of pricing the dances go for, but considering that they're about ten times more *everything* than any lap dance I've ever seen in a club anywhere, I would assume that their attentions scale depending on the amount of cash offered for the privilege. That said, one guy tried to wedge a dollar bill in a very petite dancer's butt by handling both cheeks and her face went from sweet/huge toothy smile to looking like a tiny but highly lethal trained killer in half a second flat. He very wisely jumped about two feet back and apologized profusely.
This is a strip club far, far away from town/police/civilization and the dancers are welcoming and the lapdances are basically extremely handsy/mouthy simulated sex (from what I saw - lapdances are on the open floor) but they're also clearly tough chicks. I didn't see anyone get "sacrificed" (legendary activity out there) but it's not hard to imagine that happening - voluntarily or involuntarily, if some guy gives someone bad touch.
The only true menace to our wellbeing was a highly aggro 55+ year old Asian stripper with Crystal Gayle hair and implants the size and shape of footballs. However, I had read the club reviews on another website, and was prepared. I warned my date about her when I saw that she was working, and when she lept on us, we were braced - we crossed our legs and clutched each other like howler monkeys while pointing at the nearest stripper who was NOT HER. Thus we avoided the fate intended for us. According to reviews, she will straight jump on top of you, do things that will put you in therapy for a year, and then demand $20, and if she gets on you, you gotta pay, or face the dark side of the big bear bouncers for stiffing a dancer. But my research saved the day! She was genuinely terrifying. She was the only dancer who went with a country/rock set and lurched around furiously, like she wished she was stomping on puppies.
At one point a bouncer opened a back door right next to the stage to let in some fresh air, and suddenly the stripper who was dancing - slowly and eyes closed, so slowly that it was almost like she existed in a different frame of time, leaning on the pole, a tiny secret smile on her face - was dancing in a pool of colored light, with the bleak backdrop of a starry black night and a snowy cornfield in Kansas behind her. That was one hell of an image. Unforgettable.
There are so few places to go in Lawrence that aren't pretentious or infested with provincial hipsters and their annoying bored/jaded/dull attitudes, this club was a slice of real life and real people who aren't full of shit. Hugely refreshing.
I enjoyed our night out. It's BYOB, and one thing I didn't read on the reviews but is most definitely worth knowing is that regulars bring a quality bottle for the dancers, and drinks for themselves. We saw Patron, Grey Goose, etc. - top shelf bottles. People who had one of those on their table received the company of dancers between sets, and I really wished I'd known that because some of those girls looked like a hell of a lot of fun to talk to - kind of wild and free and ferocious and joyful.
