Last time I went to one of those places, I was living in Warren in the early 90s and had a boarder living at my house, a guy who worked in my industry. He talked me into going to this place on Mound Road just south of 12 Mile. I was not comfortable being there at all, and the turning point was when this young woman sidled up to our table uninvited and started doing this dance to a song that had the phrase “gang bang” in the chorus, which she leaned over and shouted to us whenever it came up. All I could do was stare at the table top to avoid making eye contact with her, hoping it would be over anytime soon, but it seemed to go on forever.
Just as I was about to hide under the table, my buddy gestures me over and shout-whispers to me, “you gotta tip her now.” So I pulled out five bucks and handed it to her, but she wouldn’t take it in her hand—I was supposed to tuck it into her panty bottoms. I did, turning eight shades of red, and then told me buddy I wasn’t feeling well so we should go. He was not happy, and in fact, that moment changed the tenor of our relationship for good. I left Detroit for good a few months later, sold the house while he ran out the string there, and we never talked again, even though he was in my industry.