I took a midweek Amtrak train a few hours south into Charlotte one rainy morning, for the sole mission of stripping inside a dive bar to get these polka-dotted photostrips. Since photochemical photobooths are rare antiques they're more often-than-not, out of order...I had called ahead to make sure the booth was working, and at that time was informed that this photobooth was located dead-center of the bar, in plain view. *eyeroll, but of course it is*.
To my delight when I sauntered into the dingy watering hole, I was the only patron and by my calculations I had about an hour before the locals starting pouring in. I promply ordered a crisp lager beer from the cheery big bellied bartender, exchanged my cash for small gold tokens, then without so much of a word placed two $20 bills on the oak bar top, spun around on my heels and headed into the photobooth.
A QUICK NOTE:
No one tips better than the sex worker industry. Nobody. I think most of us will even attest that "tipping big" is a personal fetish! There are certain occssions that call for a tip to be given in advance; and if you too are a classy person familiar with the world of cash gratuities, you'll know then that a generous advance-tip means one of two things: "please pay extra good attention" or "please leave me the fuck alone". This bartender, on this particlar day that I got naked inside his bar behind a thin short curtain...understood the cash on bar to mean the latter. Bless his heart....