A friend called me fifteen minutes after I finished watching an entertaining hour of Matt Groening cartoons. He had an extra ticket to some invite-only show at the Sunshine Theater and asked if I wanted to go. I wasn't sure if I would commit until he said two magic words--open bar. Then, it was just the questions of 'At what time?' and 'What's the attire?'

The shindig was officially called CAMEL In Association With KBA Marketing Proudly Presents The 1999 Bartender's Ball. Before I took two steps past the ticket lady and bouncers, a woman resembling a sexy space alien from the old Star Treks came up and offered me complimentary packs of CAMEL cigarettes. I politely refused. Nice of her to offer though, don't you think?

We wandered into the main room where huge colorfully lit CAMEL advertisements spun against the towering ceiling. The pop swing band played songs without solos, and I watched the female lead jiggle around the stage in a dress too tight for her sexy curves.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a free gin and tonic which was generous on the liquor and made my way to a table of musicians I knew. I gabbed with the other member of a two-man book club about our current task of reading Nabakov's Lolita. The most sophisticated book about a sexual deviant ever written. The other musicians took turns scoffing at the band's stock swing performance, and more drinks were ordered. A blue candle glowed in a CAMEL shot glass at our table.

A friend brought a dugout and suggested a few quick puffs. I concurred with his thinking and accepted a loaded metal cigarette full of something other than CAMEL tobacco. At this time, one of the Star Trek aliens came up to me again (I found out there were about six of them, one was a guy in alien drag). It dawned on me that I had friends not present who smoked, and I asked for a pack. She gave me a pack of CAMEL Reds and popped them open. I felt obligated to smoke one. I lit it while still holding the metal one hit cigarette in the other hand and alternated drags. I haven't decided if that moment was ironic or just really, really funny.

Two to four drinks later, I met two stunning Hispanic ladies named Patsy and Alicia at the bar, and they had my complete attention. I didn't go back to the table of musicians, I didn't go to the bathroom, and I didn't smoke another CAMEL Red. I just talked, listened and flirted with the two voluptuous ladies. One of the musicians came over so I could slyly slip him into the threesome, but I was too mesmerized to help him out.

The swing band had finished their last set, and a group of DJs was spinning house and watered-down disco music. They put on "The Rockafeller Skank" by Fat Boy Slim, and the two ladies' entire bodies perked up as if pricked in that special spot in the small of the back. There's just something about the line "The Funk Soul Brother." Before the song was over, I had Patsy and Alicia on the dance floor with me as red and green CAMEL spotlights continued to spin.

I'm not the finest of dancers, but I've always had a special panache for close rhythmic rubbing to music. If I'm all by myself, it looks disturbing, bordering on sociopathic. It does, however, become a very positive experience when a woman is involved. On CAMEL night, I somehow found two.

Twisting, turning, hip shaking, pelvic thrusting, hands up, hands down, hands on and off. I have never experienced the cliché male fantasy of being with two women, but I will say this--when one woman rubs me from the front and another from behind, I can't think of any other place I'd rather be.

After a half hour of dancing, Patsy and Alicia lost interest in me. They were playing with each other as much as with me, and after a few suggestions of future involvement, I realized our magic ended back on the dance floor and let them return to the rest of their lives already in progress.

As I made my way to the door, a CAMEL man asked me if I had a good time. I thought about it for a second. Free admission, free drinks, free tokes, a free pack of cigarettes for friends, free titillation from not one but two sexy Hispanic women on the dance floor. I gave the guy a wide smile and said, "Yeah, it was a good time."

I don't plan to start smoking cigarettes (I've smoked half a pack in my life), but that was the best night I've ever had because of the tobacco industry. Thanks, CAMEL.

Chris Jungle hopes something will be newsworthy in the near future, so he can stop disclosing seedy instances in his indefensible existence.