That Time A Dutch Stripper Called Me WHAT?!?

You may have to use your imagination when it comes to this entry…

Although I wouldn’t particularly recommend that. But it certainly won’t be a picture heavy post.

This also won’t be your typical travel blog tale. Let’s be frank, this is a tale from a Birthday in Amsterdam. It may not be the classiest content…

Disclaimer done. We were in the Dutch capital for Tiny’s 21st birthday a few Octobers ago. “We” being the motley crew of me, the birthday boy, Alec, Benham, Ducky and Beery. And with us being there for a celebration, it was fairly predictable that some “entertainment” was going to be order of the day. Or first evening as it was. Taking our first foray into Amsterdam’s notorious Red Light District, we soon stumbled across the “legendary” Bananenbar. With the birthday boy’s brother insisting on stripper related fun as part of the celebrations, it wasn’t long before we were handing over – some more enthusiastically than others – €45 for an hour of clothes shedding scenes.

Gateway to Heaven…? (Image Credit: http://www.booza.nl/images/bananenbar.jpg)

This was my first (and only!) time in a strip club, and having paid €45 for the privilege, I was going to make use of as much of the “free” alcohol as I possibly could to get my money’s worth. So despite the fact I hated it, I started necking my way through glasses of Jack Daniels, with the rest of the group adopting a similar attitude.

Pulling up pews around the bar/stage, we were greeted by an… erm, voluptuous blonde woman who proceeded to get her groove on for us. The standard skimpy dancing and shedding of the underwear followed, with her periodically taking breaks to top up our glasses. She then proceeded to entertain us with the traditional ping-pong ball trick. I have to admit, I was genuinely surprised at how good an aim our hostess had. Especially as it was hands-free. Then she decided to take the entertainment a step further.

The name of the bar really should have been a giveaway, but I wasn’t that switched on, and instead ended up being massively surprised when our hostess decided to put a banana into her own nether lands!

I would love to say the banana was this enthusiastic about it…
(Image Credit: http://fiestafarms.ca/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/banana-split-har-dee-har.jpg)

At this point in the show we were offered the chance to get a bit more “interactive” with the hostess for some extra Euros. I decided that this was beyond my comfort zone, and was happy to just sit back and watch(?!). So while the rest of the guys took their turns to have a taste of the precariously perched banana, I pretty bluntly refused when our mistress tried to persuade me to take a turn. How disappointed she looked…

With the banana swiftly devoured – and Beery somehow earning a new nickname of Bobby – our bartender/entertainer worked her way around the group topping up our drinks again. However she didn’t quite extend the same polite tone when she got round to me:

“Hey cheap b**tard, what you want to drink?!”

“Say what?!”

“What you want to drink cheap b**tard?”

“……Jack Daniels please”

“There you go cheap b**tard!”

And gobsmacked I learnt the funny way what people meant by “liberal Europeans”! I hadn’t expected to be called cheap by a woman who took her clothes off for money, but hey who am I to judge! It made for a funny tale, and at least made my first – and again, only – strip club experience a memorable one.

The rest of the night got a bit hazy after we’d made the most of the bar’s spirits, although one other memorable quote came from a working girl who took a shine to Ducky as we strolled around the Red Light District:

“Hey curly hair, come f**k me”.

Oh Amsterdam, you do make me chuckle…

Have you had the “pleasure” of experiencing the Banana Bar? Or any other funny stories of liberal Amsterdam?

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4 responses to “That Time A Dutch Stripper Called Me WHAT?!?

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