Guide to the Strip Clubs of Vancouver

Remember in Twin Peaks how the guys are always ducking out across the border to go to that big Canadian brothel? Vancouver is kind of like the city-version of that place: A near-enough respite from the asinine prudishness of the Northwest U.S.'s assorted strip-club ordinances and regulations. The gals doff everything here, the drinks are alcoholic, and nobody has to stay ten feet away from anyone else if they don't want to (though don't take this as license to be an utter idiot and touch one of the dancers, that is unless you want to walk down some stairs with your face).

Unless you're sporting tits, most places are going to charge you a small cover, and once you're in, you're expected to buy drinks, same as anywhere. We've got six good places now, not counting the ones out in suburbia. There used to be more but the bikers just keep fucking it up for everybody. THE CECIL (1336 Granville St.) At the mouth of the Granville strip, the Cecil is our city's welcome mat to the Downtown area (their sign, boasting the "hotsy of the week," is the first thing you see coming off the Granville Bridge). It's the only peeler joint in town that employs dude waiters, and surly ones to boot. Must be a union or something. At night, expect to be hounded mercilessly by the VIP-room girls. During the daytime, it's a good place for a crappy burger with a side of vagina. THE PENTHOUSE (1019 Seymour St.) Vancouver's answer to the Bada Bing, with a ripe family history (old man Philliponi got whacked in his own office upstairs). Close to all the bars downtown, and therefore ideal for a quick nipple if you're bar-hopping. BRANDI'S (595 Hornby St. 5th Floor) Vancouver's "high class" strip joint; made classy by being run by a woman; made famous by that whole Ben Affleck fiasco. (If you don't read tabloids, a dancer supposedly went the "extra mile" for him in the back room then took it to the papers; yaaaawwwn.) They metal-detector wand you and pat you down on the way in, send you up in a high-security elevator, and make you check your cell phone at the coat check like you're about to meet the president's tits or something. Once you've made it in and found a seat (the front row is free while getting a table costs money, which is kind of weird) the girls will quickly seduce you away from your wallet via the usual methods. Expect an excellent stage show from the dancers, maybe even some acrobatics, and a souvenir keychain or poster if you're a good boy. NO. 5 ORANGE (205 Main St.) Smack dab in the middle of Junkieville and across the street from the cop shop, but a quality place nonetheless. The line between strippers and prostitutes can become blurred here; don't expect "extras" from the stage dancers, but there is a back room with a bed and a locked door. Whether you want to get drunk, get a lap dance, get beat up by a biker, or watch the VIP girls bitch-slap each other in the parking lot, there's something here for everyone. Decent burgers too, for a strip joint. URANUS LOUNGE (315 East Broadway) Yes, it's actually called that. The city apparently rejected their first couple of name choices. Sometimes the DJ will pronounce it yer-innis, but they ain't foolin' anyone. Well, actually, they probably are, cause most people think it's a gay bar. Oops. This place used to be the dirtiest little shithole back when it was called the Paradise, a magical place full of underage strippers, drugs, unisex bathrooms, liquor infractions, and jello wrasslin', but now it's all cleaned up and there's a karaoke lounge in the basement. THE DRAKE SHOW LOUNGE (606 Powell) Recently renovated and reopened with new management. The Drake is way out in the cracktown/industrial sector of East Van, but if you're in the neighborhood, they've got a brand-new kitchen and a pretty decent menu with fancy salads and such. You'd think you were eating in a chic westside diner were it not for all the beavs. Cheap whores and crack still available down the block.