Posted by TJResearcher on March 22, 2001 at 08:40:50:
In Reply to: TJ Researcher !!! posted by RickFeliz on March 22, 2001 at 05:07:46:
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Ok, I have one, but its kind of silly.... Its completely raw, and was written the "morning after" staying up till 5am. I wrote it to send to my family... Here it is: (I've deleted names for the sake of confidentiality) We stopped first at El Ranchero (gay bar) and talked to *** at *** suggestion; very talkative guy, about 20 something, who is a sex worker; has family in Sinaloa; he visits there (spent three months there during the winter), but won’t work there because he has too much respect for them; they don’t know what he does to make money; this is his only job; he primarily works at this particular bar; we bought him a drink and he sat with us for a bit; at first he said he had a boyfriend in Chicago, but didn’t date anywhere here because it was bad for him (too much sex); I stupidly replied asking him if he meant he was afraid of SIDA; he said yes; but when asked whether or not he was still working he giggled and said he couldn’t help it. He must have meant something else about not having a boyfriend (maybe he meant his job made it dangerous for them?); will ask in the future as I told him upfront I was writing a book and he said he had lots of stories. The bar itself was great, packed with people, decent music, very well dressed guys of all styles and ages. *** says the owners employ only straight male staff in order to keep side deals to a minimum. We went to the bar twice, once at 9pm where we sat at the balcony, and once around 1-2am where we sat inside at a table. On our way out the first time, some jerk swooped his hand down to my crotch to check my package. I saw it coming and grabbed his hand squeezing it real hard, slapping it away, and just kept on walking. He was a tall ranchero looking guy with a group of other husky looking caballeros. I didn’t want any trouble so I didn’t even look back. Didn’t tell *** until we were well enough away and told him to let it go. That’s a good way to get into a bar fight. When we returned at the end of our evening, we had a more relaxing time. After we were inside for a while, we saw a *** neighbor and offered him a seat. Little *** had met at as the door and was also sitting with us after we said we would share a taxi with him over to *** house. We had seen *** earlier that night and offered to buy him dinner, but he declined making it clear he wanted to see ***. As the four of us sat at the table, and after I danced to a Whitney Houston song with John at his behest (it was funny as we were the only two dancing and obviously quite drunk) – A very effeminate guy and a dressed down lesbian came over to the table and introduced themselves. They were friendly, and not drunk. *** struck up a conversation with me. She has a ten year old girl and is from Guadalajara. She looks like she is from the US. I asked her if there were any lesbian bars around, as *** didn’t know of any and I only saw a few couples in our adventures in the other bars. She told me to check out YADIRAS on Calle Madero and 9th. Madero parallels Revolution and is a nice looking street at night. She gave me her cell **** and I gave her my email. She seemed pretty kicked back and interested in me but fine with the fact that I’m married and don’t date women. Still wanted to chat. Would like to go to that bar and will ask *** for a list of questions to ask so we can write an article together. We also visited Villa Garcia (gay bar), which had a good atmosphere, mostly gay men, a few lesbian couples. The lesbians seemed pretty approachable and non-aggressive. The more feminine ones basically just smile at me a lot. The butch ones just look bored. They were mostly older, like 40s and up. One guy tried talking to me but he was so skanky and drunk I told him I didn’t speak Spanish and was here with my brother. *** is a good side kick as he never leaves my side for more than a few minutes. We spent some time in another gay bar called Taurino’s, which was very popular, had a packed dance floor and tons of gay men, some transvestites and me. I could tell my gender was in question at that point after seeing quite a few uncertain come hither looks and a few cat calls when I went to the girls room. The drunken statement made by a very drunk idiot on the dance floor, “I am guy, he is guy, we are guys, but what are you….?” was also a pretty good indication that they aren’t used to seeing women/women there. He was also dancing like a complete fool and making “I’ll eat your pussy signs” to me. He was pretty much one for the record books. A shy guy had asked me to dance and I after saying I sucked and didn’t want to, eventually did because he seemed harmless and it was a good song. I tried to leave the dance floor after the first and he said, “Oh no stay for one more”. I did. Then he said, “Where do you live? I can come visit you!” I guess he wasn’t as shy as I thought! After handing him the beer *** had just bought me to quench my thirst, I told *** I was ready to move on. I dragged *** down to the bars around Coahuila. I counted three times as many street girls as I had during my day trips. They average around 50 girls per block (including both sides), and are filed along the walls even to the edges of the district. Remember these are little blocks, so they are packed in like sardines. They dress the same way during the day as they do at night – high heels, miniskirts, lots of makeup. They vary in age, but all are mexicanas/indias. They wait against the wall for someone to choose them, rather than soliciting on the corners or out in the street. They’re pretty quite, and as you walk down the street you get the eerie feeling of being in a produce department. We peeked inside about 4 mexican dance bars I hadn’t heard of. Fichera dancing was the only entertainment on the dance floors (fichera dancing is when girls dance with patrons for tips/drinks). Some girls sit and make small talk with guys at their tables for tips. The girls look pretty much the same as the ones outside on the street. We visited Miami, Adelitas, and Chicago Club. Miami was a fancier and busier version of the fichera dancing. Adelitas was fancier, busier and very large. The Chicago Club was the closest to a U.S. strip bar, there was no fichera dancing and had a pole on the stage for a feature dancer to dance around. The stage was floor level and in the middle of the room. This allowed for frequent interactions with the customers, in fact the girls would leave the stage in the middle of the song to go do their version of a table dance for an excited patron. Each feature dancer had a male handler who spotted potential patrons and directed her to their table. She would then proceed to climb into his lap, smack his face with her boobs, grab his tip and leave – all in about 30-45 seconds. Her handler/spotter? stood there next to her and would then lead her to the next table. Table dances seemed to generate about 5 dollars in tips a piece, and given the number of potential patrons, probably generated about 100 dollars for that one hour. A highly successful dancer could potentially only work for that one hour, rather than have to sit there all night making small talk with patrons and negotiating a hotel date. The girls working at the tables and against the wall were mostly mexicanas, and almost all of them were prettier than any of the girls in the other clubs or on the street. A lot of the girls had breast implants. Their clothes were higher quality as well. The dancers were exotic, well-toned very thin models of various ethnicities and styles (Thai, African-American, Mexican Gothic, etc.), very fast, very business like, didn’t have to talk to the patrons at all. I would imagine being a dancer is a more coveted and less arduous position which is held out only for a privileged few. Our table was not approached, except by the waiters (about 30 visits from various staff). I visited the bathroom once, and found what I expected, the girls hangout and socialize, prep for dances, check their makeup. One thing I didn’t expect, there was tons of makeup available (for sale perhaps) on the counter. So much there wasn’t much room for washing hands. There was toilet paper provided by an attendant (every other place required the napkins I had stuck in my pocket). All in all, there is no way I can recruit directly from the workplace (except maybe in the bathrooms). If the girls in clubs aren’t part of the union, and aren’t friends with some of the street girls, I have little chance of talking with them. It is not that they aren’t approachable, but that they are busy working. They are there to make money, and they don’t stand around to chat. Outside of work and in their day clothes they would be incognito. This explains why most research is done with street girls. Snowball sampling is probably the best way to reach them.
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