Back in my early 20s, when I worked as a topless dancer, I was on stage doing my set, had finished stripping down to thigh high 4” heel boots and a thong when I began to notice that the usual smoky haze was a little peculiar. It got worse, and then suddenly my song cut off abruptly. The DJ got on the mic and said, very calmly, that everyone had to get up and leave in an orderly fashion. The building was on fire. The dancers were allowed to run into the dressing room and grab something to cover themselves with, and then get out into the parking lot.
Did I mention that this was on a day shift, and that the club was on one of the busiest roads in Tucson?
So it’s like 1pm, broad daylight. There are about 15-20 of us in various states of undress milling around in the parking lot while the fire truck drives up. Turns out the air conditioner had caught fire. About an hour later we were allowed back in (we weren’t allowed to go home)...
So a bit later I’m onstage again and I got the best intro of my dancing career: “The last time this next lady got onstage, the building caught on fire… let’s hear it for this hot lady!”
I got pretty good tips on that set.
— 03:16:58 AM
[1000]
