It was with great interest I read Tim’s first installment of “30 Days in the
Hole.” However he left out one West Palm event that I feel needs to be
brought to light. You see, Tim is a hero.
It was Saturday, second show. First semi-decent crowd I’d seen in there all weekend. September is murder on clubs in South Florida. But this appears
to be a good bunch, primed with liquor, armed with fists full of $1’s, eyes bleary from the thick cloud of smoke that permeates the room.
Tim enters the room struggling with an oversized milk crate brimming with the latest & greatest in sexual gizmos. Silently & with grim determination, Tim proceeds to unpack the goodies like a true champion, making sure every purple vibrator, each nipple clamp, endless bottles of lube, duct tape, silly string, and the awe-inspiring 24″ 2-headed dildo are placed just right. Can’t have Fifi fumbling for toys on stage. That would be bad. Real bad.
Tim makes the final adjusts, turning each jelly dong just the right way, pauses, and nods approvingly. He’s a man who knows how import his role is – and where his next meal is coming from.
The “Sandford & Son” theme plays; crowd goes wild; Fifi bursts onto the stage like a caged animal. Tim is in the back of the club somewhere, keeping an ever watchful eye. He’s kind of like a black cat moving through the shadows at night. You can only catch a brief glimpse of him from the corner of your eye as he moves. Look directly at him & he seems to disappear. Very eerie….
The show is great. Crowd goes wild. Costume starts to come off – a two piece red, white, and blue sequin outfit of some sort. But what guy really pays attention to that kind of stuff anyway? The point is she’s wearing a jacket. And she starts to take it off. And that’s when something terrible goes wrong.
The zipper gets stuck. Won’t budge. Frozen in place. Shit!
But Fifi is a pro, and she’s moving quickly, never breaking her routine, and nobody really has time to notice anyway because out of nowhere Tim – a blur
of superhero speed – sprints across the club & up the stairs to the edge of the stage. Exactly at the moment Fifi gets to the same spot. Like it was planned that way. Ye gods, how did the man know? How could he have possibly seen the crisis & gotten there so fast?
Without as much of a nod, and in one swift motion, he savagely tears the jacket off. Fifi never misses a beat & returns center stage. Tim disappears into the shadows as suddenly as he arrived. He is Batman. And I’m left wondering, did this really happen… Or have years of hard liquor & cheap smoke finally taken their toll…?
Tim’s quick thinking and lighting fast response averted what surely would have been a disaster.
Immediately after the show Tim is on stage determinedly gathering up the $$$ & sex toys strewn willy nilly across it. I suggest Donna tip him – after all, he saved the show. We call him over & Donna proceeds to shove a wad of cash down the front of his pants. Tim must be allergic to money because the
instant it touches his skin he snaps; swinging his arms wildly he jumps back, babbling incoherently about fruit bats and getting ready for the next show. The poor bastard bolts to the dressing room muttering under his breath the whole way.
So the next time you see Tim – or any of the countless other suitcase pimps, unsung heroes that they are – take a second, shake his hand, and say “Nice
job with the dildos.” I know I will.
(But don’t tip him.)
