While bartending the other night, a trucker came in late during my shift. Because the cafe had already closed, he sat at the bar for a bloody beer. We began to chat, finding a common denominator in that he was from Elko, Nevada, and I used to live there. Actually, Elko is where Sean and I met; I have fond memories of the area, friends and experiences.
As we conversed about my new venture, and running a business (in general), the trucker told me that just a few years earlier, due to health problems, he sold a bar he’d built 38 years ago in Elko. The bar, it turns out, actually was/is the “famous” Horseshoe Club – a rough and rowdy strip club. Now, anyone in Elko knows that the “shoe” is not a reputable place to be caught at… Perhaps that’s the allure and why so many “normal people” (like myself) find themselves there well into the morning hours. It has that “Wild West” nuance that places in Elko and other Nevada towns exude.
It’s been four or five years since my last jaunt through its doors; it was an epic night of steak, wine, beer and first-time motor-boating all whilst dancing around the blackout fairy. Mind you, it was not my first time to motor boat, or even be motor-boated, but Jenny’s.
Jenny best remembers the night for the lingering scent of FDS the next day, and the flu she succumbed to at home following our debaucherous Nevada weekend. That flu is immortalized as “stripper flu.”
Anyway, the Horseshoe Club is an institution of intoxication and lasciviousness in Elko. The ladies are rough, the clientele rough, the experiences… rough, but good for the road.
My shift ended, and I went about my evening. Meeting the original owner of this place felt both dirty and impressive – the epitome of a good reaction in Nevada.