The one involving stripping

Being in a rather remote place has its advantages and disadvantages. So it came to be that we had a booking at the cafe for a ‘Hen’ night. For those unfamiliar with the term, the party people throw before one gets married. And in this case, the kind where the ladies take their soon to be married friend out for a last night of extensive drinking and fooleries before acquiring the married status, usually resulting in a lot of noise, somehow resembling the noise of chickens trying to lay eggs, hence the term ‘Hen’.
Anyhow, we were expecting 13 hens to have BBQ in the evening. I was already being warned of the things that might unfold. The evening started reasonably quiet. We had a few guests who were there to enjoy a nice quiet dinner. We tried to put these people together, away from the table that we set aside for our rowdy bunch. We have a small shed in which we store some of our food items that is in a separate building from the cafe. As I was getting some items from the shed, I could already hear the hens doing what they do best…

At around 19h the time had come for the ladies to enter the cafe and have a seat at their designated table. It was obvious that some of them had the pleasure of consuming a certain amount of alcohol earlier that day. They also had a wide range of blow up ‘toys’ with them depicting the male reproduction system. As soon as I brought some water to the table the question arose concerning the whereabouts of their waiter. After mentioning Belgium, I was asked if I had a chocolate penis which led me to believe that the finer sense of humor would not be found amongst these hens. Granted, there were a few ladies who appeared to be sober and they took it upon themselves to offer excuses for their friends “subtle” humor. ‘No offense taken’ I said, as I am not the kind of person who gets offended by these kind of things.

The other guests in the cafe tried to enjoy the rest of their dinner and I could see them glancing at the party table once in a while after the hens appeared to have laid yet another egg. Slowly the remainder of our dinner guests started to call it a night and it was only our group of 13 to serve.

I am not sure if they realized before they made reservations at our cafe / campground that they would be in a rather desolate place. If this was intentional or not, I can only guess. But sooner rather than later a few girls of the gang approached me to ask if I would be willing to join in some of the activities they were trying to plan for the lucky girl. The first suggestion was for the soon to be bride to lick my chest and have a shot afterwards. I didn’t really object, who am I to reject a person from licking the accumulated sweat of the day from my chest area. But due to circumstances this idea was put on hold. After a while they realized the lack of men in the surrounding area and asked me if I could be persuaded to do a strip act. I replied to them that for the right amount of money everyone can be persuaded. I was interested on what amount they would settle for. Rather surprised was my reaction when they offered me 100NZD. I still acted a bit reluctant and this even led to them stating that I didn’t even have to take off my pants. Just dancing a bit with my chest uncovered would be enough. ‘Don’t worry about your body, we will forget it if it is nothing special, but if it is nice, we won’t forget’ were some of the comforting lines I had to listen too, all in order to convince me. But that wasn’t really necessary. Ladies, you just made a deal. A hundred bucks to show them what every beach going person gets to see for free, granted, with some additional dance moves, who wouldn’t take this offer. I assured them that I would see them at their party area after work. Never mix business with pleasure.

Well, I am not sure if I can describe the mess they left at the table as typical for a bunch of hens. That would do the chicken population injustice. It took a while to clean everything up and there were traces of their presence to be found within a 5m radius of the table. I would say it was a 5.5 on the Richter foodquake scale.

The time had come earn some more money, 100NZD to be exactly (around 53 euro at the time of this writing). They had one building of the campground for themselves to have their party and it was in full effect. I gave up counting the empty bottles of beer / wine / ‘alcohol containing drinks’. I was given a few instructions on what they expected to see, basically I was given full freedom and could use my imagination. ‘Hold on girls’ I said, I am not stupid. First the business side of the deal, show me the cash. Remember, we are dealing with a group of very drunk women who will use any excuse known to mankind to talk their way out of paying. Luckily they respected their part of the deal. Now it was my turn to do the same. I can’t even remember what song they put on to start this business transaction but anyhow… I pulled off some dance moves and started removing my long sleeved shirt, slowly revealing some skin. It is funny how I can think of some fancy moves to pull off right now. You know, we all have seen a strip act shown on TV, granted more of the ones where the female does the dancing, but during my… euhm “performance” my mind did become somehow blank, turning my choreography into not the most memorable in the history of strip acts. Anyhow, use your imagination or try to find footage of the event on youtube. Of course after the long sleeved shirt, off came the tshirt and that is where I stopped. Of course they tried convincing me that I didn’t do my part of the deal, I should also take off my pants. These are situations in which I don’t mind being the only person that doesn’t drink alcohol. I knew what we agreed upon and in the end its the word of a sober guy against intoxicated women.
There was actually one other guy present at this whole show, another guest of the campground. He of course was unimpressed (which I didn’t mind at all) and in an attempt to become popular amongst the girls gave a speech how I should really show more for that amount of money. He even told me I was a rip off and wanted to prove that he could do better and for less money. One of the girls grabbed a 20$ note out of my pants and promised to give it to the other guy if he could deliver the goods. So now it was my turn to watch an early 50 year old man take of his shirt to show off his rather convincing beer belly in front of the hens. I can honestly say that my dance moves were better than his, if he had any. And indeed, he didn’t stop there. He did keep his pants on but he approached the bride to be and even let her peek at his reproduction system. And since I was sober the whole time, I still remember the closed eyes / squinting look of this poor girl which was in stark contrast with the huge grin on the face of our 50 year old stripper. I think he should have hypnotized her a bit more with his shaking beer belly before pulling off that final move.
Sure, he had probably earned his 20$ more than I did. Maybe when I get his age I get this desperate as well.
Afterwards the bride thanked me and told me that she used to travel as well when she was my age. When I asked her how many springs she had experienced on our blue planet she told me that she was 26. I guess alcohol does make people look younger 🙂

Still there was part of the gang that wanted to see me pant-less but it was at this exact moment that they played the most appropriate song that could possibly be played… ‘You can’t always get what you want’ by the Rolling Stones.