Part 2: A Stripper Called Me Crazy, And Other Tales of The Night

This is Part 2 of a 4 Part Entry. . you might want to scroll down to Part 1 - Sometimes Dreams Do Come True.
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Sexy Lexi was the 26 year-old woman who my kind and generous colleague hired to give me a lap dance. She started by telling me I was hanging out with a very hot group of guys, “Um, thanks?,” I said. I wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

(On a side note, what does one do during a lap dance if one is getting a lap dance? Obviously no touching, but where are you supposed to look? What facial expression are you supposed to have? I felt horribly awkward and when I feel awkward, I just start grinning from ear to ear. I’m not sure goofy grin is the facial expression of choice for lap dance reception.)

My friend chose wisely in Sexy Lexi. When she was done, she said “So you guys are really all medical students? I have so many questions for you.”

Could this have been any more perfect? I was so excited “And I have so many questions for you!”

Turns out, she has her BA in international politics and used to work as a para-legal until she found that she makes bank (and I mean bank) stripping. She and a friend are essentially traveling strippers. They come to a USA town that has good gigs, strip for a while, and then take all of their earned cash and go travel to other countries (Guatemala, Costa Rica, Japan next). Eventually she wants to go back to school to get her masters and become a Mandarin Chinese interpreter. Really, not a bad set-up.

I asked her if she likes stripping. “I love this work, it is so much fun.” And she told me that the lap dances are for the customer, but on stage, she dances for herself. Wow. I was totally sold.

She hung out with our group for a while. She told us that she wanted to make out with all of us and we should return on the 27th, her last night of work, when she didn’t care if she got fired (later at the all-night diner, my friend said earnestly: “No, I don’t think I’m going to go back on the 27th – hah!). The anthropologist in me continued to pick her brain. I told her about my fascination with strippers and that I was thinking about dropping out of medical school to become a stripper. (a joke folks, a joke). “You are really crazy,” she said and then looked at my friends, “She is really crazy.”