Michelle Dennee has a way of getting people to take off their tops. Dennee, the (sometimes also topless) bull guardian and bartender at Daisy Dukes, keeps the energy going and the bull-riding, well, interesting.
"Everybody really wants to get naked anyway," says one of the girls waiting to take a turn on the mechanical animal. At least four people are easily persuaded to ride the bull sans shirt. One girl even rides completely topless, exposing herself to the pack of men looking on. Then Dennee gets in on the topless action, much to the delight of the male crowd.
Daisy Dukes, off East Avenue at 6 Lawrence St., features all the country-bar staples: the mechanical bull, a country soundtrack and sexy bartenders in outfits inspired by Daisy Duke herself. Open Thursdays and Saturdays from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. and Fridays from 7 p.m. to 2 a.m., the bar's energy is fueled by the popularity of the bull and hourly performances of the Dukes girls dancing on the bar.
My day as one of them begins at a recent Tuesday-night dance practice. I have every intention of learning the choreography to one of the songs they dance to regularly. But 30 minutes isn't enough time for me to learn it well enough to not look like a fool that Saturday night, so I scratch the idea and decide to just help out with all of the eager bull-riders.
Now for the outfit dilemma. I already have the cowboy boots and denim cut-offs, but I decide they're too short. My only other option in October is to buy a denim mini from a store I swore I'd never enter again after graduating from high school. I think I'll try and keep the tags on it.
I arrive around 11 p.m. on Saturday. I size up the Dukes girls in their outfits, not in a competitive way, but to make sure I'm close to their standards. They probably would have laughed at my decision to pass on the shorts -- theirs are even shorter and tighter.
Dennee takes me downstairs to change and hands me my Daisy Dukes shirt. It looks like it's made for a 10-year-old. "They're all one size," she says. I'm relieved it fits.
I'm no expert bartender, so I'm paired with Dennee for the night. My job is to get everyone to pay $2 to ride the bull and have them sign the "VIP list," which is actually more like the "we're not responsible if you break your neck list." Although most of the signatures are -- big surprise -- totally illegible.
The bull is almost always getting action from a rider or two. (I quickly dismiss the idea of riding the bull when a girl in a short skirt unintentionally moons the entire bar.) The only time the bull is off-duty is when the Dukes girls dance on the bar and pour free shots of Jack Daniel's down peoples' throats. If I wasn't going to ride the bull or dance on the bar, this is the least I could do as a Dukes girl for the night.
I climb right up on the bar, shake my ass (just a little -- I haven't been drinking enough) and grab a bottle of Jack. Guys and girls alike line up against the bar and open wide. I almost forget about the crowd being able to see up my skirt.
The rest of the night I'm swamped with people wanting to ride the bull. And as time goes on, people get drunker and rowdier, and my tolerance decreases almost as fast as everyone's inhibitions.
"If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," Dennee says to one of the male bull riders before he climbs on. She strips down to her bra and he follows suit by removing his shirt. Then she takes it a step further and takes off her bra.
After the next peep show, I take it as my cue to leave. Becoming a Daisy Dukes girl was fun, but I'm glad the experience just lasted for a night. Maybe next time I'm there I'll wear pants and ride the bull. But I'll definitely be keeping my shirt on.
