I used to work with a girl named Savannah; She was the sweetest thing I’ve met at my club. She always talked about her three kids, two of which are autistic. She always wanted either a girl named Chloe or me to put glitter makeup on her and she would giggle out of joy.
Last night was cinco de Mayo and everyone was drinking tequila or a margarita, I usually drink Jameson so I was feeling some type of way. I was doing pretty well early on in my shift (better that I expected at least considering it’s off season). After one of my smoke breaks I notice a girl in a wheelchair talking to the VIP attendant. I knew it was Savannah.
I wasn’t working the night it happened, but about 5 months ago, she had a reaction to something which lead to a seizure. The seizure rendered her temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. I hadn’t seen her or talked to her since the incident but I’ve heard about her from other house girls. She was so happy to be in the club last night, it made my night so much better. She doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to walk again, but her smile stretched across her face as everyone came up to her and hugged her. A few other girls and I sat with her for a while and shook our asses on her lap. It’s so weird to think how much one night can change your fucking entire life; one night she was dancing in her signature school girl outfit, the next she was told she wouldn’t be able to work/ function normally indefinitely.
The remainder of my night was lack-luster. I didn’t go on stage (because I paid off the DJ) so most of the money I made was off of a drunk Chris (?) who insisted that we visit the ATM 4 times totaling 40 dollars in ATM fees and 360 dollars in my garter. I will never understand the justification behind a drunk mans decisions, and talking shit doesn’t make much sense because those very decisions are part of what brings home the bacon.