Once upon a time, a bit over a year ago, a fresh-faced, young lil stripper chick walked into our lives at Tootsy's. Lana was tiny, young, hyper, and expressive. I admit, I had a crush on the inked, silly, tiny Blasian girl who could work the pole like no one's business. She would climb up onto My lap, talk at Me about everything, and make Me smile. She would write Me poems. She would steal My gum. I'd get random lap dances and serenades.
Unfortunately, as it can happen now and then, she got hung up with the Wrong Girls. The girls who feed the stereotypes of stripperdom. It started with doing drugs. Now, that isn't something I automatically frown upon, but it wasn't just a Here And There thing. The use got worse, then it went into selling, and then into dirty dancing, and eventually into hooking.
It broke My heart to see someone with such promise and life turn into someone so faded and used up. And she was only 20 years old. Gone was the girl I got all twitterpated over.
Eventually, she was fired for the Not Nice Things she was doing at the club. Contact was lost, people turned their backs on each other. It happens in this business.
We saw her in Tootsy's the other week, trying to get her job back. That didn't work.
And the, this past Monday when I arrived to do Door Wenching, I found out that they had found her in a bath tub... dead. Overdose? Still trying to find out.
She had just turned 21.
Oh Lanalicious, you had such a future if you had only stayed on the wiser path. Yes, you let us down. You let yourself down. You made choices that brought hardship upon you. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out, though. I will mourn you for a long time. I will think of the Times That Were Good and smile. I will read your poems and cry. I wish we could have saved you from yourself.