I was chilling in the hot spa after some steam and yoga. A bubbly brunette started to chat between the bubbles.
“So are you coming to see me work tonight?”
“Where do you work?”
“The Landing Strip. I’m a dancer. The same guy owns that as the one in Corpus. That’s where I’m from. I’m in Austin for a month.”
“Not really my cup of tea, but thanks for asking.” That probably doesn’t translate too well, but in all honesty, she tended to be more interested in what she was saying than what I was saying.
“Oh, where do you go to see dancers then? The Yellow Rose?”
“You know, I just went and danced with a bunch of people. I got to dance too. At a festival.”
“Were they naked, or did they have to wear thongs?”
“Well, some of them were naked, but that’s really not the point.” I decided I wasn’t going to be able to get my message through, and left it at that. I listened to her stories about being on tour and dancing for famous people, told her I wasn’t Australian, and wished her a nice time in Austin.