When We Were Kings: One Night At Rick's Cabaret

"I don't get the Derek Jeter thing, " one dancer named Julianne says from across a four top table in the dimly lit dining room of Rick's Cabaret. "He's so normal looking." Two other girls, Holly and, oh, I don't know remember what her name was — Bambi, maybe?— agree. "Yes, he's really not that handsome." This was the extent of the "athlete" conversations we had with the dancers, three of them, sitting around our table, boobs and bubble-headedness on full display. It was tough to get the girls to talk about the professional athletes they've had as clients. Most were willing to go there, but simply couldn't remember any names, or teams, or what day of the week it was. I've interviewed strippers before and, like all humans, some are brighter than others. Some keep careful track of the notable names and faces that they meet. Others could give a lap dance to the president and won't treat him different than any other dude waving a $20 — unless they're told to. Special treatment is a directive passed down from the host of the club. Athletes are the whales in these places and on Monday night, we played that role. Granted, it could only go so far, because everyone in the club could tell that we were just a couple of idiots playing dress-up. The staff happily obliged, though, and we experienced for one night what Rick's Cabaret is like for those with athlete celebrity status and disposable income. (PHOTOS: Antonio G. Di Benedetto) More »