Jonas Does Portland: The Summer I Strip Clubbed With My Dad

Oh boy, do I have a summer story for you guys this month.

Before I get into the grisly, sordid details of this trip, I need to give you some background on my family. My mom gave birth to my human bowling ball of an ass in Portland and it’s been one of our favorite places all throughout my life. My stepdad was also a fan of Portland, and had met my mom there, before I erupted out of her vagina (this was also when my mom was also not stripping). The point being, is that Portland was in my life way before I ever lived in the city and my pops knew all about the strip club scene of yesteryear.

Somehow, however, we never made the trek down there to swim in the seas of sin as dad and son..that is, until I fucked my life up and had to move back home after I was 21. I was older, could drink, had my own thoughts and was also quite the scumbag, so I could definitely hold my own with the old yellers. By this time, we had a new neighbor and friend of my stepdad, named Marcos. He was a car mechanic, charismatic and knew his way around a good smut den. And, holy shit, could Marcos drink tequila—coincidentally, also my stepdad’s favorite drink—they bonded over this, while I was homeless, prior to submitting to life and moving back home.

We decided to take a family vacation to Portland with my whole family, plus Marcos and his son. We’re talking four teenagers and four adults, all packed into a minivan, going from Eastern Washington to Portland— that trip will make you want to fucking drink and party. My parents are also members of whatever cool kids’ club Embassy Suites has, so they always go to those hotels for a thing called a "Manager’s Reception" (which is just a dumb euphemism for "Hey, the drinks are free in the lobby for these two hours, so get shitfaced..."). So, me, my pops and Big Marcos got nice and drunk for free, and had my mom drop our big, saucy asses off at the first stop of our night (per Big Marcos’ request), which was The Double Dribble. If you don’t know this place, good for you. It’s since closed down and for good reason—it was a fucking armpit. It was a sports bar with a single stripper stage, pole and bar (and floors) covered in various $1 beers (and, definitely cum). Our first dancer was on her last night before going on maternity leave. She was a whole lotta pregnant and that was the signal for me and my dad to go play a round of pool, while Marcos got her life story. In hindsight, a very pregnant dancer broke the ice of a weird-ass father and son strip club adventure quite well. After her and her fetus finished a round of songs, Marcos ran over to fill us in on details we gave negative fucks about and we left as quick as possible.

My mom was long gone and we were on our own. We told Marcos he was fired from strip club suggestions and moved down the road, to a place that has changed ownership a bunch (I forget what it’s called currently). Anyway, we went in there and it was 1,000% better than the dumpster we were just in. But, the real fun happened outside. We left after a few dances and called a taxi. Once we got in the taxi, we told the guy driving we wanted to go to the famous Acropolis. The driver was old and surly as fuck and he knew we were not locals. So, he looked over the seat and said "Acrop’, huh...you boys looking to have fun or just see some titties? Acrop’ is for tourists. I’ll take you to a newer place," and before we could say anything, Marcos loudly obliged. My dad and I immediately assumed he was taking us somewhere in the bowels of nowhere, to charge us $150 in cab fare. Well, we were assholes, because he didn’t do that at all.

Where did he take us, you may ask? Well, our new best friend and all four of his old man teeth took us to one of my now all-time favorite clubs. This place is one of my favorite places on earth. My dad was unprepared for it and almost hyperventilated as soon as we walked in. I was more than happy with this and Marcos couldn’t contain his happiness. We loaded up on bills and had a hell of a time for the good part of the two hours there, but here are some of the greatest hits of the night...

My dad admitted that he’d give anything for a night with a dancer (something I’m sure they’ve heard numerous times), Marcos bought a dance from two dancers at once and I’ve never seen a bigger smile on that man’s face, a dancer pulled a bill out of my dad’s mouth using only her vagina (impressive), I made friends with a bunch of dancers (which made my dad jealous), I bought my dad a lap dance that he’ll remember forever, and finally, Marcos got to have a scissor-sister encounter on stage (and, I’m almost positive he was close to a heart attack from excitement). There was more, but I don’t kiss and tell everything.

My mom picked us up—in a minivan—at the bottom of the parking lot. We fell into the car, made one final drunken trip to a Jack In The Box, we all pissed in a bush in the drive thru, ordered "taco nachos" (which we all agreed was a bad idea) and woke up throwing up so hard that we were in tears. And, if that’s not what father and son bonding is in Portland, then I don’t know what is.