No, really, you don't need to turn it on for me...

As promised, here's my recent experience in a Midwestern sex store.

I've passed a tall sign on the interstate several times in the five months I've lived here. It's not far from my house, and I see it every time I drive to Madison or Janesville. Why does this sign pique my interest? The sign is for a store called Naughty But Nice. I'd always wondered what was in the store, though I really already knew. After hemming and hawing for a few months, I decided to call them up and ask.

*Ring Ring*

Shopgirl: Naughty But Nice, how can I help you.

Me: Hi, I'm new to the area, and I've passed your sign a few times. What do you sell?

*Pause*

Shopgirl: We're an adult gift shop.

Me: Ok. How late do you stay open? Are you open on Sundays?

Shopgirl: We're actually open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

*Another Pause*

Me: Really?

My suspicions confirmed, I sat and thought for a minute about what I'd just heard. A sex store open 24/7. I'd never heard of that, even on the liberal-minded East Coast. At the time, I had no idea why those kind of hours were necessary, but I was nonetheless intrigued.

It didn't take much convincing for me to head over there after work one day, a short time after I came back from winter break. Finding it was easy enough, even for me, the future Our Lady Of Perpetual Lost-ness. I parked in the lot, and I noticed that I was far from the only one there. I was one of maybe 8-10 cars in the lot, and then there were two tractor-trailers parked to the side. Now, I didn't really want to go in there alone. Or, "alone." So what did I do? I called my trusty MattMan (check out his blog and podcast at http://awkwardmatt.blogspot.com), who was currently on a business trip to the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Phone in hand and conversation going, I walked into the small store. It wasn't really strange or dirty or skeevy, much to my surprise. It was much like NightDreams, the adult store out in Bethesda, MD. Well, the store was. The clientele is a different story. I was the only woman there who was shopping (there were two stocking and tending the register), but that wasn't really that off-putting. The men shopping there were between the ages of 40 and their mid-sixties, and they were scattered to the four corners of the store. Several were at the discounted videos and DVDs, a few were looking at the lingerie in the center of the store, one was in the novelties, one was perusing the bondage equipment, two were choosing...let's call them toys, and four were at the magazines.

Walking around, I noticed that everything was cheaper than on the East Coast. A welcome development, to be sure. I was still talking to Matt, which allowed me to steal glances at what the other men were buying (none of them would look at me, especially because I was gabbing on the phone in the otherwise silent store). There were a few guys that had armloads of stuff, and this is when I realized why the store was open 24/7: it serviced truckers. Well, not "serviced," but you know what I mean.

A few of the guys were buying some specialty magazines: naked women in provocative costumes, naked women on a farm, naked women with basketball sized knockers, naked women in wild shoes, naked women with ridiculous tattoos. Now, I really don't understand some of this stuff. Naked women wearing wild shoes and costumes I think I get. And perhaps even on a farm. (Just at the farm, not doing the animals -- mind out of the gutter, please!) But the unrealistically breasted women just baffle me. I mean, yeah, breasts are cool. I have two, so I know. And men don't have them, hence their life-long (occasionally mommy-issue tinged) obsession and devotion to breasts. But ones that big? Don't men realize that they're just going to get in the way? Forget being anywhere but on top, big fella. Those things will put your eye out if you let them flail too wildly.

So I was casually walking around, talking on the phone, and Matt went out of signal range. I put the phone on vibrate (um, no pun intended...) and looked at things on my own. Fortunately, this happened just in time. One of the truckers with his armload of goods approached the register. He looked to be barely 40, and he spoke with a surprisingly unaffected accent, almost East Coast-ish instead of Southern or Midwestern. The Register Lady checked out his stack of magazines, videos, DVDs, and books without incident. It wasn't until she got to his electronic toy that things began to get funny.

"Would you like batteries?" she asked. The Trucker stammered, and eventually mumbled in the affirmative. The Register Lady opened the pack of batteries and then proceeded to open his toy, in what I assume is store practice. The Trucker looked around him, alarmed, and then said in a strained whisper "What are you doing!?!" Without pausing or even looking up at him (she was now inserting the batteries), she said "We just like to turn it on and make sure everything works before you buy it." Register Lady closed the battery compartment and started to turn it on. "No, really, you don't need to turn it on for me..." the Trucker said, trailing off. It was too late. She had turned on his toy, and it emitted a loud, violent buzzing noise. He looked like he was about to die, and it took everything I had not to burst out laughing.

I place no judgement on the Trucker, or anyone on that store. However, if you're going to be in there, don't be ashamed, dammit! You're there, which is obviously the first step to mental freedom, but you're not going to have any fun during the purchasing process unless you loosen up and realize that everyone is there for the same reason you are. That's what was so great about NightDreams. The staff was ready and willing to talk to you about anything in the store. They'd take the toys out and turn them on for you so you could see what they did. They'd show you a clip of a video or DVD if you were interested in buying it. They'd even tell you what they used, and if they liked it.

I miss the East Coast. That really isn't the point of this lengthy entry, but it may be the hidden issue behind all of them.

I'm headed to Chicago this weekend to meet up with the aforementioned MattMan. Check out his blog for my guest appearance on his podcast Travels With Matt! He's thinking of installing me as his senior correspondent. I'll be able to record such interesting segments like: Driving on the Interstate -- Cows and Fields and...Nothing Else; Liz Gets Lost in Milwaukee; and Why Driving To Any Chicago Airport Sucks Major, Major Goat Balls.