September 5, 2008

Vegas

Where Clubbing Might Be Glamourous, But It's Still Sketchy As Fuck!

So I went clubbing in Vegas with my friends pretty much every night we were there. Clubbing was, in fact, almost impossible to avoid. Every time we walked down the street, men in baggy clothes plied us with free VIP passes and demanded our phone numbers so they could add us to various clubs' guest lists, which they did faithfully. Sweet deal,right? Well, yes, until you analyse it from a feminist point of view.

At first, we were too flattered to be offended by this ritual of harrassing young girls on the street to come to your club. The club promoters didn't approach everyone, and so we thought we must be super hot, and while all three of us are smart, independent women who have lots going for us, we found out we are not above feeling happy to be considered attractive. Free passes also saved us money (it's usually $30 just to get into a club, if you can get in at all without bribing your way in with even more money) and helped us skip the super long line-ups. All of this was great in theory, except that, when it came time to go to the club each night, I felt icky.

I felt icky bi-passing the line because some random dude on the street who worked for the club thought my group of friends was cute enough to meet his arbitrary personal standards and so gave us free passes so we could be the young girls starring in various bachelor parties' girls gone wild fantasies. The clubs obviously banked on our presence motivating thirty-something guys to spend thousands of dollars to impress us (this actually happens. Every guy we talked to in Vegas spent at least $2000 at the bar during his time there. And these were mostly Middle-Class dudes who regretted it later, not super rich hedge fund guys).

So, the practice was definitely looksist, but what was even more offensive was how ageist it was. Really attractive well-dressed 30 year old women weren't even considered suitable candidates to receive these free passes - they were considered "too old." Every girl I met who got in the way we did was under 25, reasonably thin and, for the most part, these girls were white. The clubs were blatantly racist!

The whole point of the practice of letting young girls in for free was not to be nice, but in the hopes we would get drunk and sleep with some 35 year old in Vegas on his stag party looking for one last meaningless lay with a girl so young she makes him feel young, too. All in the hopes that he'll spend hundreds getting said young girl and her friends incredibly wasted in the lead-up, and that he'll like it so much he'll do it all again the next night. It'll make him think he's irresistible, not that she was just drunk and that they don't seem to let guys her own age into the clubs, anyway (they usually can't afford bottle service).

Ultimately, I realize that I didn't get into Vegas clubs for free, my vagina did. Because, at the end of the day, that's all they wanted of me and my friends. The clubs sell the booze and the ambience, and then they pray that we'll just give the pussy away indiscriminately. The motto at Pure should be, "Buy six bottles of Vodka, get one vag free!"

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