Names omitted to protect, well, a lot of co-workers.
SoCal. 20xx. We're in the final push to wrap up a big job in the valley. Big boss man is building a custom house and says to the group 'Hey, I need to go down to Mexico to pick out some doors. Why don't we make a weekend out of it?' I say I'm in. Other co-workers book two houses. Off we go. 8 of us in a couple trucks to Rosarito/Puerto Nuevo. Me, Big Boss, Other Coworker, No Neck, Buck Tooth, Captn, Loaner and The Kid.
Drinking. Lots of that. Surfing. More drinking. Tacos. Bunch of drunk contractors looking for a good time. Then Boss Man says the taxi is here. Going to Bada Bing. I don't know what a Bada Bing is, but we're all going. A 15 minute Mexican taxi ride later we're there and unloading. The Kid pukes in the planter right by the door. Not sure how/why they even let us in after that, but it happened. Within 30 seconds of walking in, Loaner, Buck Tooth and Captn grab girls and go straight to the back room. Gone. I'm like, WTF is this place? I've been in strip clubs before but that isn't a thing. Everyone else except Big Boss each pull up our own island while the big boss cruises the place. Bar service rolls around and we all buy shots for each other, apparently. Waitress returns with 4 shots per person because we're idiots and can't coordinate. Change is given in fake construction paper 'Bada Bing' bucks. Shots of watered down "Patron" are crushed, beers in bottles ordered. It became a sport to buy a $5 lap dance for your buddy with the girl they'd like the least, but because it was Mexico, you paid the bouncer/DJ and the girl went and danced for whomever you pointed at. There was no saying no, and they had a range from 2-7 with lots of botched plastique work.
As this was going down, Big Boss told Other Coworker that we need to get some of these girls to come to the house tomorrow to dance and serve us beer while we play poker. Other coworker with the help of big boss takes this on and is now trying to solicit girls in broken spanglish to come over tomorrow for money. We keep sending them $5 dances just to fuck with them as they're trying to broker a deal. After some time at the stage and in my drunken state, my dream girl arrived onstage. I got up and took her to the private booth the second she was done before she could get sidetracked. Apparently she wasn't happy about it because she wanted to towel off and get a drink. I wasn't having it, but it worked out as I threw $40 at her and said let's go.
So in Mexico, there aren't so many rules. Hands are pretty much free to do whatever. I didn't know that until this girl was offended that I wasn't touching her. Thought I was being an asshole and wasn't into her. Well shit, you don't have to ask me twice. Eventually she tells me that's it and I'm upset because I learned about the hands policy way too late. I try to give her some bada bing bucks to bring her back, but that doesn't fly. I stumble out of the booth (apparently I was gone for something like 30 minutes) and the crew has two beers and a shot waiting for me because they kept ordering for everyone. I'm yelling about these bullshit bada bing bucks and I'm out of cash and it's all bullshit. They've robbed us. No-neck coworker tells me to shut the fuck up and crush that shot + beer with him. I do that.
No-neck and I go pull up islands again and try to put the construction paper bada bing bucks into some g-strings which wasn't going over well. Girls are calling the bouncers over to explain this to us. Suddenly we see a lot of commotion from the other side of the club and it's Bucktooth and Captn! After 90 minutes? I don't know. There's a lot of yelling. Big Boss gets up and shouts 'Where's Loaner?' Bucktooth points back from the room where he came from and shouted something. Clearly not good things. Meanwhile, No-neck has taken his shirt off and is now dancing on the stage right next to me, swinging on the pole. The bouncers don't even know which way to turn and I'm now too drunk to function. Other coworker and the Kid give each other a knowing look and say 'time to go.' They scoop me up. I remember seeing no-neck sliding across the stage as I was being carried out. Maybe he was sliding under his own power, maybe it was the bouncers. I black out from here.
I'm told that on the taxi ride back I turned green rather quickly. The Captn saw this and started shouting at me and commanding me not to hurl and channeled his inner drill sergeant. The taxi driver saw my face and pulled over on the side of the highway and the group managed to get me to spew out of the side of the van.
The next afternoon, 3 of the girls arrived at the gated community guard shack. Apparently Other Coworker managed to broker a deal, but that's a different story that won't get told here.
I've concluded that DJSapp was never DJSapp, and Not DJSapp is also not DJSapp, so that means he's telling the truth now and he was lying before.
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