Jon ordered bottles of scotch, vodka and champaigne. We wondered if we could take them home with us. There was a three-piece band. A stripper materialized and began to disrobe a yard in front of us.
"Dodger," Abra said, "why are all those men sitting alone at their tables?"
"I think they're lonely," I said, because they have to buy a girl her own bottle if they want her to sit with them."
"They all seem so sad," Abra said. She took another look around the room. The stripper finished and left the stage to indifferent applause. Abra whispered something to Jon. He was a distinguished Canadian and knew how to handle these things. He rapped smartly on the table with a pound coin. "Waiter!" he said. "Blow jobs for everyone!"
-from Life Itself, by Roger Ebert