like a wedding, in like a three-piece suit. So the guy in the three-piece suit came up to me. He asked me if I didn't see any girls I liked, or something. "Can I help you find a girl? If you see one you like, tell me and I will bring her over to you." He said they didn't have a cigar, so I bought a jack and diet coke and that was enough to make him leave me alone. My first impression was this guy is some kind of nutcase, he is not at all laid back. He is wooden and not blessed with any people skills. Is this guy really going to come bother me every time I come in and don’t buy a dance? I pondered if there could be any rational reason to dress like a wedding for the day shift of a dive strip club on Orange Blossom Trail. Like he is uptight or just crazy. A cheezy Italian guy in a leather blazer I would expect at the door of a strip club, but this guy was on his own planet. During the day, the beer was cheaper. Cabaret Internationale was full of tile salesmen, towtruck drivers, and unemployed chain-smoking drunks in torn t-shirts, blowing their disability settlements on single-mom heroin addicts in ripped fishnet and spandex. And of course 20-year-old sluts who just drove into town and are working their first shift. And this weirdo shows up dressed like a wedding, standing around stiffly, and shutting it all down. There were never any girls in Cabaret Internationale any more. At some point soon after the new owners bought it, they brought over all the girls from Rachel's day shift. Supposedly Rachel's was not even owned by the Veigles any more, so I am not sure how they pulled that off. I remember wondering who is at Rachel's right now, is it empty? But this new manager was such a short-tempered hardass, even the lifer Rachel's girls were all gone pretty quickly. They put up a new sign "Touch And Go Policy: If you touch the girls you will get thrown out." It was a bit longer than that, but I am not sure I ever read to the bottom. And they enforced it, they wanted to change the place. This was around the time Corporate America went batshit with the new concept of "sexual harassment." At least up north. It hadn't made it to Miami yet. The new management that bought Cabaret Internationale seemed kind of corporate. So I thought this is a new attitude. They don't want us sexually harassing these professional young girls. I would come in and sit down, and a girl named "Lexi" or something would sit down and talk to me. She would say something like "You ride a motorcycle? My ex boyfriend used to ride a motorcycle." And the next thing the angry well-dressed guy would come over waving his arms and yapping at her about something. Then she would explain to me there is an ordinance where they have to stay 12 inches away from the customer or something. I am thinking is this a new ordinance? No, this is the same rule we have always followed since I first came to Orlando. Lexi and I weren't breaking the rule. We weren’t doing anything wrong. What changed? It was like this guy was being mean for no reason. I for real thought they had something against slutty girls and people enjoying themselves. Like they wanted a different class of people. Like it was a different business model in the same room. Like the girls were supposed to dance on stage like Broadway, or who knows what. Whatever their idea of a strip club, it was different from what I was used to. And the girls I liked, the free-spirited girls who would hang out and talk, had no place in it. Then the next time I would come in and say "Where's Lexi?" And the other girls would say "She doesn't work here any more." I didn't want to pay a door fee to walk in, see there were no girls, and leave. So I dreaded coming through the door and seeing the angry guy sitting behind the desk. He looked a little different in normal light. His hair was reddish light brown. Maybe it looked blonde inside the club because they have a black light. And in regular light you could see how old he was. He had glasses with dark frames, and a mustache. He looked dated, like guys I remember from my childhood in the 1970's. He looked like Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer. So the first time I saw the angry guy in front collecting door fees, I checked behind the counter just to verify he was wearing the same wedding outfit and it was the same guy. It was. Or sometimes early in the day shift, the angry guy wouldn’t be sitting inside the front door, and I would walk into the club without paying. And he would come running from across the room and charge me $10. Even if there was 11-20