OK so, with my birthday coming up (this was 1981), my girlfriend, let's call her, "M" and I, decided to go to Vancouver.
I was driving, so my car, but which one? The '75 Camaro RS? The one after that? I'm thinking it must have been the Camaro? Anyway...irrelevant, really.
Shanghai Junk Cabaret in Vancouver’s Chinatown History. Nude psychedelic dancer ‘Sandi’ at the Shanghai Junk cabaret in Chinatown, 442 Main Street, on Feb. 18, 1967. Club owner Stan Chong is at left, looking up, and Tommy Chong smiles on the right. Photo : Ray Allan.
so before graduating college in 1984, had to be before Bellingham as we'd have been broke, so that means likely 1980 or so she went to Wazzu (WSU, Washington State University) for year 1980-81, we then moved in together for 1981-82, 82-84 in Bellingham. We drove up to Vancouver as I'd been going there all my life. Well, Victoria anyway, but then from high school on ...fully Vancouver.
We got to Vancouver and must have had a reservation as we must have had a destination. We got our room key and headed to our room. Part of the idea was to luxuriate, take it easy, play in our room, order room service. For whatever reason, I pulled back the cover on the bed a bit, sat down, picked up the phone to order food and....dead phone.
We wanted food. so we had to go downstairs to the front desk. I told the clerk the situation and asked for another room as we had planned on using room service, as part of the reason for the weekend, but the phone was dead. It seemed a simple request. What hotel would refuse you a working phone to spend more money?
She started to say something, then stopped, thought and asked, "Did you pull the covers down on the bed?"
What an odd question. I gave her a weird look and said, "Yeah, I pulled the covers back a little but I can put them back." She said, "Well then, I can't give you another room. I'm sorry." Then the killer phrase all middle management loves to use as a weapon: "It's policy." She smiled. It was a petty, satiating smile. The kind used by those who know they have power over you and there was nothing you could do about it.
I was stunned. I could feel the heat rising. I was not happy and becoming less so with every moment. So the customer is never right, here?
Thinking of my mother, as annoying as she could be with her "squeaky wheel always gets the grease" and, "I learned that from my dad," nonsense. Yeah sure, but she often took that too far and too often. She often sent back food at a restaurant to the humiliation of my older sister and I who once said, when we were talking about this, that she had dined around the world with actual rich people, and while mom seemed to think that's how rich people act, the ones she knew would be humiliated to make such a fuss.
So I said, "I would like to talk to your manager."
That surprised the woman. But then smiled: "I am the manager." She enjoyed the look on my face as the blood drained. I could see this was hopeless. My birthday was not starting off well. I'd been through a lot over the past year, separated from the Service, out of the USAF, divorced, trouble getting a decent job (had a few miserable ones), and I needed this celebration of...anything.
I just needed a break. And this wasn't going to be it.
So, surrendering, I asked where we could get a drink. Adding salt into the wound, she said, "Well, it's Sunday, so you can't." I was stunned, I mean, what? It's my birthday and I can't even get a drink?
She said, "Well you can, but you'd have to order food first. I said fine we're hungry anyway and asked where the nearest restaurant was.
Finally she was useful and told us there was one a couple of blocks down the street. It was nice out being August 30th, so we headed out. I have no doubt I was complaining as we walked down the street, trying to process it all and being assuaged by the thought of dinner and drinks.
After about a half a block we noticed two attractive, nicely dressed... apparently sex workers on our right, waiting for something. Someone like me apparently.
One of them saw us, focusing directly on me, and walked over. She was quite attractive, So much so, I don't even remember the other one's looks. She was pleasant, happy as she propositioned me. My girlfriend wrapped her arms around my right arm, hugging it.
We didn't stop and kept on walking, but now the woman was walking with us. I said, "Thanks, but as you can see, I have a girlfriend." She took that as an invite, or a challenge and slipped her hands around my left arm, smiling, and being very friendly.
So I'm now walking down the street with two good looking women, one on each arm. My birthday was getting better, but also, worse. While this was fun, it was either fear invoking, or relationship concerning.
I never considered paying for the woman, but it was a moment I realized I could have fun with. I had an urge to tease my girlfriend a bit. So, when the woman said, "I don't mind a party." Meaning she'd be happy to join my girlfriend with me (what kind of customers was she used to?)...I smiled and looked at my girlfriend and said, "Well, it IS my birthday."
The woman picked up on that immediately. M said, "Yeah, in your dreams," and we just kept walking. I was polite and thanked the woman but turned her down. she realized it was a losing battle by this point, but she had given it a valiant try. So she detached and said, "Well, if you change your minds, I'll be around." She wasn't, when we made our return trip back to the hotel after dinner, I couldn't help but notice she wasn't around.
We continued on and had our dinner and some things to drink (I think two were allowed on a Sunday, "what a strange law" we thought), then headed back to our hotel room, and our stupid broken telephone (is that even legal?). We had our own private party and satiated our attraction for each other, eventually falling asleep in one another's arms. This was the best part of that weekend. Although possibly not the most interesting part.
The next day we hung out around town, walking through Gastown, headed over to Stanley Park where I showed her and told her the story about the time I was there when I was18 with a friend. I'm in my mid 20s at this point, and my girlfriend was about 19. We'd met at Tacoma Community College as lab partners in Physics/Chemistry, where we both had taken a single summer quarter.
OK. So this now heads into another story entirely and the point of telling all this. We'll skip that story about when I was 18 for another time. It involves Gastown, the Gastown Pub, the Gastown Inn, and a mass amount of High School students swarming over a hill from the parking lot, down to the beach at 3rd Beach, Stanley Park.
At the end of day we decided a bit late, to head out of town and home to Tacoma. Not realizing it was rush hour until we were in the middle of it trying to get across the Lions Gate Bridge (Hwy 99).
When I came across Chinatown I said I had to drive through there. That was a bust as there wasn't much to see and I quickly got lost. I finally found my way out of it and just wanted to get out of town and on the freeway home.
We drove around avoiding traffic until we realized, there was one bridge out of town and it was jammed. Realizing we we're stuck for a while, I said maybe we should just stop someplace, anyplace, to get out of the traffic and maybe get something to eat. We could head out once traffic died down.
So we stopped at the first place that looked promising. There wasn't much which confused us. But we found what looked like a bar...maybe. I parked and we weren't even sure it was open. But we opened the front door and stepped inside. No one was around. On the left it seemed like a restaurant or something, but was dark. There were stairs straight ahead that seemed to just go on, but we heard music filtering down from there.
So, we started climbing.
We get to the top and look around, my gf frowned at the two old men, the only patrons. But the attractive, completely naked, tiny Asian woman dancing on the small stage, seemed somewhat reassuring to her. Or not.
We went straight on in, found a table on the left, near the back along the wall, where the walkway continued further back, to restrooms and the kitchen, which I think was on right, with rest rooms on the left.
We ordered a sandwich and a beer each. We sat there waiting, watching the dancer. Then she said, "She's good." The dancer. I agreed. Then she said, "I have to go to the rest room." She headed into the back
I sat there watching the dancer, observing the old businessmen being served. The dancer finished as another was passing by her onto the stage. They shared a few words. The new dancer was not quite as cute, but she got on stage, and dancing starts again. The other woman walked through the room, watched closely by the men at tables and she disappeared into the back.
Eventually the food arrived. I'm watching the new dancer, sipping a beer. There wasn't much else to do. I realized that it's been more that 15 minutes since my girlfriend left. She never took that long. I started wondering if I should be worried. Once that occurred to me I started a run down of reasons I should or shouldn't worry. The reasons to worry outpaced the reasons not to.
I knew about organized crime in Vancouver. We were after all, in another country, even if it was typically (as I knew it) Canada. I got up and walked to the back. I saw the rest rooms, but I wasn't going to go into the women's rest room.
Or should I? Am I being a bad boyfriend in not going in? Am I a perv if I do? What the hell, why was I in the situation? What an odd weekend. I had to admit to myself, I always had fun, or odd, or entertaining times in Vancouver. But this was a first.
At what point should I tear the place apart? Or start yelling? I noticed there was a back door. Could she have gone out back? Why? Had she been kidnapped and taken out that door? At this point, I'm trying not to freak out. Everything seemed normal, nothing "felt weird." I'm pretty good at feeling something like that. I didn't here. It all felt normal, but was I being delusional? I mean, I didn't know that place, what's normal there?
I went back and sat down, confused. I watched everything like a hawk. Trying to decide. Should I go into the women's rest room? I decided I needed to. But when? This was all happening in a short span of time. My mind was racing a bit. Should I have gone in already? I was pretty sure, yes. But if I went in there and she's there, she's going to give me a hard time like, forever. Maybe. Or would it cause a ruckus with the staff, some guy going into the women's restroom. Was I overthinking things? Sigh... Why was this happening?
While I'm sitting there trying to make myself go into the women's rest room, M walks up and sits down like nothing was out of the ordinary.
"Oh good, food's here. I'm hungry." I look at her like she's nuts. She takes a sip of beer and notices the odd look on my face. "WHAT?"
"What? Do you know how long you've been gone? I've been freaking out wondering what happened to you. I don't know this place, or if someone kidnapped you. Or what. What took so long? Is everything OK?" An odd grin crossed her face, one of...embarrassment? What happened?
"I'm so sorry, really, I just lost track of time." I'm observing her now. Something's off. She has a familiar look on her face. Like she's...
"Are you stoned?"
She smiled. "Uh, yeah." She started to explain. "I went to the restroom. When I was done I came out of the stall and that dancer was in there by the sinks. Still completely naked. I washed my hands and we started talking. She was nice. Funny. Then this guy just, walks in."
Here. I'm not pleased.
"She knew him. He had a joint and asked if we wanted to smoke it. I mean, I said...yes."
Now I'm trying not to be pissed, mostly because I'm freaking out about IF I should go into the women's rest room and apparently, it's normal for a guy to do that? Not to mention, I missed out on getting stoned, hanging with a cute (naked) dancer. With my girlfriend, in a situation where it was all apparently normal and OK?
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"Good grief. I can't believe I was out here trying to not lose it, worried something horrible may have happened to you...all while you're just getting stoned? Not to mention, I mean, I didn't get to get stoned either."
"Well, I'm sorry, but it just happened and it would have been weird to say, 'can I go get my boyfriend so he can get stoned too'?" Really, I did get her point. It was all just an odd situation, and I got caught up in it on the wrong end of things. It sucked for me, but I didn't want to deny her doing what I would have done too.
As we'd been talking, I could see she was realizing the situation as our conversation was evolving, and she hadn't considered the other side of how this might all have appeared to me, waiting for her in a strange place. As it turned out, the place didn't seem that strange at all but rather a nice venue. At least in that situation.
She had found a cute, naked woman in the bathroom, a guy walks in, offers them a joint to get high on, and they're just talking ... having fun. Well, more power to her. But my end in the situation, sucked.
"Look, it's not like you did anything wrong, but, damn, I was worried and trying to decide if I needed to start yelling your name and go into the women's restroom which, come on, could easily go wrong. I mean, we don't know this place, they don't know me, what if they said they never saw any woman? You're just, gone? Kind of a horror show." Yes, I have a good imagination. She knows that.
I can see this is all dawning on her and she's flustered. And feeling bad. What can I say, why blow her calm and her high. So, I brushed it off. I was glad she had some fun, at one of us had. This was a very odd birthday overall. We drank the beers down, paid, took the sandwiches with us and headed out. Rush hour was over. The rest of the ride home south was uneventful.
But it was not a birthday I ever could forget. Overall, it wasn't horrible. Just...it wasn't even in the ballpark of a weekend that either of us had anticipated.
Still, it was a story I told for years. And that made it all worth, something. Weird hotel. Propositioned by a very good-looking sex worker on my 24th birthday. Lost in Chinatown, accidental visit to a nude dance club, M getting stoned in the bathroom with a naked dancer and some guy, while I sat outside quietly losing my mind over sandwiches.
It was enough of a story. It didn’t need anything else. Certainly no embellishments.
Then recently I went down a rabbit hole about Tommy Chong’s and Cheech Marin's early years when they met, in Vancouver, and I found out something that reframed this entire story.
Before he was half of Cheech and Chong, before Up in Smoke, before any of it, Tommy Chong was running clubs in Vancouver. One of them was the Shanghai Junk -- a topless club in Chinatown, at Pender and Main, operated with his brother Stan.
When Tommy took over, he didn’t have the heart to fire the dancers. So instead, he built an improv comedy troupe around them, called City Works, and created what he described as the first topless improvisational theatre in Canada. This was about 1969.
Where were we? Upstairs. Small tables. Chinatown. A stage with a naked dancer.
Here’s a 2014 article about it: Chinatown: Topless joint sparked stoner comedy genre.
What is it with my connection to topless joints? (See, The Teenage Bodyguard screenplay). I’ve only been to two, neither of which were my idea, one in Tacoma (topless only) to find a friend whose birthday it was with a group of our friends, and that time in Portland (fully nude venues) with coworkers.
OK three, including the one in this story. But hey, I was with my girlfriend and when we walked in, we had NO idea it was anything but a bar.
A young guy named Cheech Marin, who had come to Canada to avoid the Vietnam draft, walked into that room and joined City Works. The two of them came out one night to warm up the crowd, got laughs, never gave the stage back, and eventually drove to Los Angeles to become one of the most successful comedy acts of their generation.
If you don’t know Cheech and Chong, here’s the short version. Richard “Cheech” Marin and Tommy Chong became one of the most successful comedy acts in North American history through the 1970s and into the ‘80s -- albums, tours, and a string of films starting with the 1978 cult classic Up in Smoke that defined a generation’s sense of humor and became shorthand for a whole cultural moment.
They were enormous.
If you were alive and paying any attention in that era you knew who they were. What most people didn’t know was where they started -- which was a topless improv club in Vancouver’s Chinatown, in a room above a street corner, at a small stage, with a naked dancer and a handful of tables.
The geography of where we parked that night -- right side of the street, facing toward bridge out of town, on the edge of Chinatown -- all lines up with Pender and Main.
I stopped there to kill time on my birthday weekend on the way out of town. I had a beer and a sandwich and worried about my girlfriend and watched a naked woman dance on a small stage. there was just over ten years between these things when Cheech and Chong were there.
I had no idea until now, decades later, after watching their latest film, Cheech and Chong's Last Movie, a compendium of their history, that we may have been sitting in the room where Cheech and Chong history happened.
I was a big fan of theirs from day one. If you ever were, great movie to watch about them.
I stopped there to kill time on my birthday weekend on the way out of town. I had a beer and a sandwich and worried about my girlfriend and watched a naked woman dance on a small stage.
Look, does it really matter if it was that venue or not? Because whether we were there, or a mere block or so from it, either way? This was a pretty pleasant exercise in memory and nostalgia.
I had no idea back in that bar that we might have been sitting in the room where Cheech and Chong history happened. Or down the block from it. But regardless?
The Canadian beers were good. The sandwiches were fine. The naked dancers were, well?
Let's just say...what a weekend.
Cheers! Sláinte! Na zdravie!
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