The Death of a Go-Go Dancer

October 22, 2008

…and to think about it, I was into angry rap music (called “gangsta” I believe). Often albums would start by the MC crying: I am back mother*&$?ers!. As I am back writing again I guess I could use the “I am back” thing too, but I am not gonna do it.

Am I glad to be back? I dunno… Last night was a club-scene revisit. Same music, same people. Geezers with crap tatoos and birds in very tight jeans. Next year they still very well might be going through same motions, being another year older, thats all. As Nick Knox was saying: “life is boring… even drugs are boring”.

Right Nick! On the positive side, I am not at this stage of boredom just yet, I still have great respect for drugs. Still, I am no dope-fiend and I don’t want to become one either, dope-fiends with the drugs being the focal point of their lives are boring too. To avoid this situation, one must depart from the scene and keep to himself for a while. All dope-fiends start out as weekend junkies and I honestly don’t know anybody who would have stayed on the scene and would not cross that fine line between flirtation and addiction.
It is easy to spot a person going through initial stages: when they are not stocked-up themselves, they are frantically cruising nightclubs looking for anybody they know who might be holding. Wah-wah, I can hear them saying, what do YOU propose? Yoga? Sanskrit? Calling your mum more often? I don’t know. May be I am writing this to avoid the sliding, d’you know what I mean? Never mind.
If the club scene did not change during the year, streets of this town suffer significant changes all the time. This season its the far end of Nevski, known as Staronevski, that gets a makeover treatment. One late night, as I was getting a lift home from a mate, I saw a dancing girl in a revealing outfit in the middle of a junction. I figure, she was an employee of a local lap-dancing joint. Traditionally, on any given night, if the place wasn’t jumping, the girls would come out onto the pavement to grab prospective clients. With the pavements all dug up, I guess now they forced to move onto the road.
It would make an excellent headline if one of them was actually hit by a vehicle. In my mind I can see a mouth-watering picture: the collision throws the slender body of a girl in the air and she lands with a thud, arms and legs at different angles, puddle of blood under her head, one of the high-heeled shoes still on, the other flown off her foot…
Her sparkling bra reflects the street light. She is still alive, breathing, but unconscious. It will be hit-and-run, she will be lying there for a while, neglected, automobiles making carefully around her, not stopping. Finally somebody from the club would see her, raise the alarm and call the ambulance and police. Nobody would admit to seeing anything. No witnesses, only the victim. Perfect. It will be said that she was an out of town girl, a student who earned an extra income in the industry of entertainment.
Of course, lap dancers are not strippers same as strippers are not prostitutes. Is being a prostitute classed as working in entertainment too? The area around my house used to have lots of working girls. They cut grotesque figures. Massive heels made them very tall. Too much make up made their hard faces even more intimidating.
May be, once upon a time, when they were younger, they were lap-dancers too, but the revolving door of life threw them onto the street. Gotta be some fine line here too, like one day its sparkling bras and nose full of free coke and then boom! its walking between the raindrops giving local coppers freebies so they wont bust your ass.
Now, is there a moral to this runt? Yes, there is actually. In life we all occupy different steps of social ladder. Climbing it is hard labour, but nothing is done easier then sliding a step or two down. However, do not hurry and judge people, for any slide might have been initiated by a push.

Filed under: St. Petersburg — Everyday Life
Tags: , , , , , , , , — sasha @ 4:03 pm

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