Reminiscing About White Bird

This photograph is the property of the Gonograd Resident

THERE was no need for some lowdown from someone or some information from an online journal to help him.  The instant he saw the signage bearing the words “White Bird” he knew exactly what the nature of the business was and what went on inside the place.  He was a brave man driven by curiosity which led him to the establishment one August night not too long ago.  His first visit was followed by several visits all in the name of a personal project.

The journals he kept contained some funny stories and revealed that there, indeed, were people in the service industry who didn’t remember their customers’ faces.

On his second visit, the serious-looking doorman asked the irritating question: “First time n’yo po ba, sir? (Is this your first time, sir?)”

Staring straight into the poor guy’s face, the shocked but amused guest shot back: “First time and tomorrow night, it will also be my first time in here.”

Consider this conversation between a waiter and a dancer that was overheard in the restroom:

Waiter: Mukhang agent (He looks like an undercover agent), referring to Trog.

Dancer: Oo, nga.  Mestizo yung itsura.  Pogi, tol (Yes.  He looks mestizo.  He is handsome, bro.).

Occasionally, macho dancer bars hold so-called bikini competitions that are participated in by non-strippers.  Our “undercover agent” did not realize even bikini contest participants could be tabled until one particular night he showed up at White Bird.

“Pwede nyo rin po silang i-table, sir (You can also table them, sir),” suggested one waiter, referring to the contestants of a bikini contest.

Who would have thought that one particular executive at a male strip bar went by what could be the weirdest pseudonym anyone could ever have?

A transvestite bar executive, who looked tall by Philippine standards, announced to a newly arrived customer:  “Just call me “Rosanna Anaconda.”

It won’t be a good idea to mess up with this floor manager who “sounds” like a huge, powerful constrictor.  No pun intended.

In common with floor managers in other macho dancer bars, the same “Anaconda” had to do something to generate additional revenue for the business when she saw a lone figure at a corner table.

“You look lonely.  Why don’t you get a dancer to join you?” the manager suggested, thinking the gym-fit man sitting at a corner table needed some company.  Little did she know the guy was busy inputting information into his mobile device unnoticed by the people around him.

At past midnight, though, the  guy finally got a stripper to keep him company and he chose him from among the dancers in the holding area or aquarium without the assistance of any of the managers.

One online site boasted that White Bird was Metro Manila’s best macho dancer bar but our agent begged to disagree.  There is a tiny strip bar somewhere in bustling Quezon City that can put on far more entertaining shows and has far more skilled dancers.  But Puting Ibon, as some refer to Parañaque’s only macho dancer bar, seems far more familiar than an obscure rival somewhere in Manila.

What’s interesting about White Bird is the fact that it’s patronized by many East Asian female tourists (including men who look as straight as arrows) who simply want to unwind and have fun.

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