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Written by Dan Dunn
Josh Durr, Jenny Pittman, Dan Dunn Josh Durr, Jenny Pittman, Dan Dunn

As far as strip club names go, however, PT’s Showclub is pretty run of the mill. Certainly nowhere near as clever as Chix on Dix (located on Dix St. in Detroit) or Boobie Bungalow in Elkton, Tennessee. According to one of PT’s more heavily tattooed and surgically enhanced employees — I believe she’s called Mercedes or Porsche or some other luxury vehicle — the joint’s initials denote the two things for which it is best known, and I’m pretty darn positive she wasn’t talking about peeing and tippling.

PT’s was the naked nightcap to an evening spent exploring the burgeoning Louisville cocktail scene with Josh Durr of, who proved to be an extremely capable tour guide. By that I mean he drove and paid for most of our drinks. I encountered that sort of Southern hospitality all over Louisville, and it was almost enough to make me forgive Kentucky for Rand Paul. Almost.

First stop was the Old Seelbach Bar in the Seelbach Hotel, famous for an eponymous cocktail comprised of bourbon, Cointreau, bitters and Champagne. This truly legendary watering hole was frequented by F. Scott Fitzgerald and, indeed, many of the regulars appeared to be Fitz’s contemporaries. Take the guy I met who’d done a tour of duty in Africa during World War II.

“One time while on a mission, a lion jumped out and went ‘ROAR.’ I shit myself,” he said, clearly ashamed.

I tried to reassure him that it was understandable; that a lion would have scared the crap out of me, too.

“No,” he said. “I mean I shit myself just now, when I went ROAR.”