my dad took me when I was a little kid, probably part of a heterosexualizing intervention that I'd grow up straight for once. I had a hotdog.
Strip clubs serve food. Can you imagine the kind of beta you'd have to be to eat at a hooters if you could go to a strip club?
My dad took me to one as a kid, I think to figure out if I was gay. I am indeed extremely gay, but he left deeply proud in me for being much more of a feminist than anticipated, and not one to trifle with inferior chicken wings.