A Night On The Town With Joe The Plumber

Left: Colorful chandelier, in the rotunda at Cheesecake Factory.


Joe the Plumber had been promising for two months that he would treat me to a night on the town, in gratitude for me helping through a rough patch several months ago by lining up work for him. With schedule conflicts, it seemed difficult to arrange this jaunt, but last night seemed opportune.

Joe had lots of time to envision what he considered the perfect night out. The night would start with dinner at Arden Fair Mall's Cheesecake Factory, and would end at an establishment where 'the ladies sit on your lap', which sounded perfectly sedate.

Left: Sacramento's "Torch Club" beckons on a Tuesday night.


Dinner was pleasant at Cheesecake Factory. I had pork cutlets with macaroni. We both got white chocolate raspberry truffle cheesecake, but got it to go, since we were already stuffed.

Dinner conversation was light. I've had trouble fully-following Joe's reasoning since he suffered a beating at Del Paso's Stoney Inn several years ago, so I just let him riff. Regarding Iraq, we both lamented the war, but Joe sees the hands of the British in the bloodshed, since they essentially own everything in the world (I disagree, but like I say, Joe's treating here, so I kept conversation light). We didn't touch usual subjects, like UFOs, and only lightly discussed his Native American roots.

Joe told one of his favorite stories again, where he had once been sent into South Central LA on a union plumbing job, but was waylaid by a van full of youths. A machete was produced, and he understood they were going to decapitate him. He told them "I was sent here on a job. I am just a plumber." One of the youths said, "Oh yeah, my mother's waiting for you," and so they let him go.

After Cheesecake Factory, we went and listened to blues music at Sacramento's Torch Club. It was a slow night, but the music was good. I had a margarita, but since Joe was driving, he had just a soda.

After The Torch Club, it was time to find this sitting establishment. We ended up at a club called Amber's, in Citrus Heights. Very slow Tuesday night, very dark lighting, and the dancing was lackadaisical - nearly clinical. One dancer put more energy into her act than usual, and I called out to her afterwards. I asked her: "So, what do you do?" She stifled a laugh, and Joe chimed in helpfully "she's a neurosurgeon." She said that, when she wasn't busy here, she helps sell spoilers for Dodge Vipers. Such a colorful occupation! Afterwards, I asked Joe what he thought. "She's a Hell's Angel," he said. "Really?" I said, "Why? She's the most-improbable-looking Hell's Angel I've ever seen." "Her colors, the ones she wore - red and white: those are Hell's Angels colors," Joe said. Once again, I disagreed, but like I say, Joe's treating here.....

We were both dissatisfied with Amber's, so we ended up at a place called Club Fantasy on Richards Boulevard. The place was nearly deserted, but the dancers soldiered on. One dancer urged us to sit closer to the stage, since 'Nina' was going to be dancing: "She's the best!" I have to admit her assessment was accurate. Still I couldn't help making an eye-rolling comment to the first dancer aforementioned that it was the improbably-tall platform shoes that really caught my eye. For some reason, Joe seemed out-of-sorts in this establishment. No British or Hell's Angels were in evidence anywhere, so I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the cheesecake waiting in the truck.

An interesting evening with Joe The Plumber.