You're from Palm Beach County. Tell me you don't think of him as a Landing Strip/Mermaid Lounge type of guy.
BTW, funny story, years ago, a friend of mine from Martin County had a buddy who was getting married and he asked me to host a bachelor party down here in Palm Beach, thinking that I must know all the good strip bars to go to. I hate those places. I find them exploitive to both parties, but I must admit I have a macabre fascination with the really, really sleazy and gross ones. Everything about them - the seedy, decades-old uncleanliness, the roach-infested "kitchens," the disgusting, never-cleaned bathrooms, the 50+-year-old, post-menopausal strippers with saggy, deflated boobs, saggy pot bellies, tattoos that are so misshapen now to be unrecognizable, and foul, semen-smelling breath. The whole kit and kaboodle is a perfect delight for me.
So these guys come down in a limo dressed in polos and chinos and reeking or Drakkar. The first stop was The Mermaid. We sauntered past the line of Harleys like we owned the place and as soon as we got in, I began lining up the foulest, nastiest, tattoo-covered, twitchy, heroin-addicted skanks to do interminable lapdances for the groom. I told them to give him anything he wants and I'd pay for it. After about 45 minutes of that, the confusion on the faces of all the party-goers began turning into irritability. I gathered them all together and told them this was just a warm-up. We'd be headed to a finer establishment with better girls. Off to the Landing Strip we went for more of the same. By the time we left that place, the guys - who all realized they didn't even actually know me - had had enough of my act and moved on to an undisclosed, presumably better location, or perhaps home. A real cherished memory of a rite of passage from my perspective though. I don't know that I've ever laughed so hard in my entire life.
And yes, I am a dick. I freely admit that.
