The Clermont Lounge

You know those nights where something seemed like a good idea at the time and then you find yourself thinking, “What the hell did I get myself into?” I usually don’t discuss these nights on my blog (because they could one day make me unemployable), but after reading about Adventurous Kate’s night at a Bangkok ping pong show, I couldn’t help it.

Maybe I should explain what The Clermont Lounge is. In one sense, it’s a dive bar mixed with a strip club. It was actually the first strip club in Atlanta and opened in 1965. To put it delicately, many of the strippers have been here since then. They’re no spring chickens.

But alas, it’s been on my Atlanta List for the last year or so but I never worked up the nerve to go. Celebrities like Anthony Bourdain, Jon Stewart and Kid Rock have been known to visit for God knows why. Clermont started as a dingy hotel and has been nearly shut down by the city of Atlanta on multiple occasions, but somehow always gets out of it. Maybe it’s the allure of Blondie, one particular dancer who can crush your beer can between her boobs. Now that’s a resume-building skill.

You should also know that one doesn’t plan on going to the Clermont Lounge. It just happens (“Clermont Lounge is what happens when you are busy making other plans?”). Someone suggests it jokingly and then the next thing you know, you’re stopping at the ATM for some ones.

So the night began innocently enough, over a couple of Pain Killers at Brewhouse Cafe in Little Five Points. After a few of those, someone dropped the “C” word: Clermont. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had never been to a strip club before, let alone one where the strippers were old enough to remember Nixon.

We stopped by the ATM to get money and then we were on our way to Poncey-Highlands. As we pulled into the parking lot, I started to get nervous. We approached the door, where some big scary tattooed men stood next to a sign that said “NO CAMERAS” and told us the cover would only be $5 since the bar was closing in an hour.

This is already 2 a.m., mind you. An older blonde woman dressed in what looked like a Dorothy costume was lifting up her dress to reveal her garter belt stuffed with ones and some other stuff… My brain was on overload. Some Auburn fans were sitting at the front of the stage, watching intently, after their night at the Georgia Dome.

We sipped our drinks as Dorothy left and a tall woman in a leopard dress took the stage. The dress didn’t stay on for too long, but since I wasn’t forking any of my travel savings to these ladies, my friend and I took to the dance floor until the bouncers yelled for everyone to go home.

Would I go back to the Clermont Lounge? Maybe. I’m not going to rule it out. But I won’t be the one suggesting it.