DRINKIN’ from Page 7
Oh yeah, the dancers. They
danced three songs for a set. The
last song they removed their shirt
and danced topless. The only time
they seemed self-conscious about
what they were doing was when
they covered up and left the stage
when they were through with their
set.
The women who worked there
were all pretty in their own way,
only some had more tattoos than
others. And they all seemed musi
cally aware, occasionally lip
si nci ng the song they were dancing
to. The dancers accepted tips from
members of the audience that
approached the dance floor in a
variety of unusually revealing
ways. Just remember, no touching.
“Shanon,” a lithe woman of 19
with wavy brown hair and dark
eyes, sat down after her set at the
table my companion and I were at.
She saw my notepad and asked me
what I was doing.
1 told her I was a journalist on
assignment. We talked for a while.
She said she had been dancing
at the Night Before for about six
months. She was a student at the
University of Nebraska - Lincoln for
a while, but right now she’s taking
some time off from school. She
started working at the Night Before
because there’s more money in
strip-tease dancing than in retail
sales, she said. Someday, she’d like
to go back to school, but for now
she is satisfied.
“Dancing is just like any other
job, it has its ups and downs,” she
said.
- Mick Dyer
The Boardwalk
104 N. 20th
It’s fun to be a minority, some
times.
If you’re a white, Anglo-Saxon
male or female who enioys the
opposite sex, you definitely fit that
bill at this bar.
Walking into the Boardwalk,
two by two (male and female), is
not exactly what most of the pa
trons usually see. But that’s OK,
especially if you enjoy being the
center of attention, and dancing to
good music in a semi-private dance
room.
.
The spirits here are just as good
as anywhere else, but the dancing
is exceptional. The bar is in one
room, tne dance floor in another.
There’s nothing special about the
bar, except the wall when* ever\
one pairs up for a little' before the\
icave.
Hut the dance floor is incredible.
No one is able to sit and watch the
dancing, so those shy, would-be
Fred Astaires don’t have to worry.
Where else in Lincoln can you
watch yourself dance from any part
of the floor? Those mirrors do
wonders for new dance steps bar
goers are trying to learn, or for
watching what goes on around
you.
It’s a little unusual to find a guy
and girl dancing together, but it
happens.
Most of the time the regular
clientele take these one-timers in
stride, but the stares sometimes
turn into words.
One overzealous woman in our
group pulled two young men
apart, asking them if they would
like to dance with her. The recep
lion sne received was less man
friendly.
Anyway, if you’re a free spirit
and want to experience one of the
best dance atmospheres in Lincoln,
check out the Boardwalk.
-- Curt Wagner
Celebration
Suite 10 - Gold’s Galleria
1033 O St
She was obviously a Celebration
girl. She stared me down with big,
round Mabellined eyes. She oozed
sex. She talked about downtown
Julie Brown and her blue eye
shadow smudged a bit from a hard
dance sweat. Our conversations
went something like this.
“So, do you come here often?” I
asked.
“Yeah, I really dig the dance
floor.”
“You know, you look like Sa
mantha Fox."
“Yeah, a lot of people say that.
My breasts aren’t quite big enough,
though.”
“I’m sorry. But you know, sili
con is always an option for those
_11
u lingo.
“You mean for my breasts? . . .
Yes I know. Thai’s what I want for
graduation.”
I could tell right then she was
out of my league. I asked her to
dance anyway.
The strobe lights pureed my
stomach and vomit tickled my
throat as she thrust and ground her
hips like that green harlot who
seduced Captain Kirk. Alter one
song I was tired. I escaped to the
white-light sanctuary of the art
deco restroom.
I rested my eyes, rinsed my face
and dried my hands next to a man
I assumed identified himself as
Pierre "to the ladies.” He was a
sheep in wolfs clothing and I re
spected him for his chest and back
hair. Our conversation went some
thing like this:
"So, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Not bad. . . . Some pretty hot
ones out there, man. No doubt I’m
gonna get on it.”
“Get on what?”
He scurried out of the bath
room. I followed him out and
headed for my table. The video
screens had dropped over the
dance floor. It was Rick Astley. The
crowd rejoiced.
A guy walked past me with a
stern, pensive scowl. I le sucked in
his cheeks. I decided to talk with
him. Our conversation went some
thing like this:
“Hey, are you in Duran Duran?
You’re the bass player, aren’t you?
It’s an honor to meet you.”
“No, I’m not in Duran Duran,’’
he said. “You know, a lot of people
say I look like the keyboard pla\ er
though. I think it’s my cheek
bones.”
“Yeah, that and the eyeliner.
You know, with those looks, you
should be a rock star.”
“Well, I’ve already started to
learn keyboards. I can play the first
part on that one Dead or Alive
song. I’ve got a friend who looks
like Rick Astley. We’re going to
start a band.”
He walked out to the dance
floor and started to gyrate with
Samantha. They made a handsome
couple and danced well for Lin
colnites. I looked towards one of
the bars. Pierre was talking to the
bartender with the gender conflict.
1 i mo ninn ___
sometnirig like this:
“You meet more freaks in this
place, bartender. I just talked to
this dweeb in a ShopKo sweater
and bowl cut who didn’t know
what ‘gettin’ on it’ means. God, I
hate Lincoln.”
“Yeah, Pierre, this certainly isn’t
New York.”
-- Bob Nelson
Chesterfield Bottomsley & Potts
Lower level 245 N. 13th
Lincoln bar-goers who stumble
into Chesterfield Bottomsley and
Potts face more options than a
wishbone quarterback.
A student body left will land
them in the properly named Big
Red Pool room, the ultimate play
ground for the bar stool athlete.
Several pool tables, video games,
and even two Pop-a-Shot basket
ball hoops offer drinkers a way to
work off their caloric alcohol in
take.
Drinkers also can work off a few
pounds on Chesty’s dance floor
adjacent to the pool room. Re
gional acts such as Charlie Burton,
Johnny Reno and the Sax Maniacs
and local bands such as The Limit
grace Chesty’s stage throughout
the year.
For non-athletic drinkers, Ches
terfield’s, or Chesty’s as it is known
to the college crowd, has other
options.
Bar-goers just need to take the
fullback draw up the middle after
entering the front door and they’ll
find Chesty’s main restaurant and
lounge.
The restaurant-lounge is the
perfect place for the first date. Its
dark, quiet atmosphere, cushy,
comfortable booths and chairs are
perfect for kicking back, relaxing
and engaging in some intellectual
conversation.
Chesty’s drink prices are aver
age for the college bar scene, al
though happy hour prices (11 p m.
to 1 a.m.) drop to 75 cents on l6oz.
draws, $2.25 For pitchers and $1.25
for import beers.
But Chesty’s best special is one
that is rarely advertised — the infa
mous flaming birthday drink, free,
of course, to anyone who’s at least
2h___
See DRINKIN’ on 9
