Cheap thrills: Your recession-friendly guide to vice in Nashville

"You can go to Mulligan's Pub on Second Avenue and Buffalo Billiards," says Featherstone. "Most of the bars [that allow smoking allow cigars]. But I always call first to make sure before I go anywhere, but most of the sports bars are cool with it."

There are, in fact, no cigar bars in Nashville. Sambuca in the Gulch offers an enclosed, heated terrace that is cigar-friendly. It also sells cigars on the menu. But with prices ranging from the $7 Cojimar Sambuca to the whopping $85 Arturo Fuente Opus, most recessionistas will have to bring their own supply.

And if wacky tobacco is your preferred medium, don't expect any recession specials from your dealer. "I've been paying the same price for pot since I was 15 years old," one anonymous 27-year-old tells the Scene.

"There's no cheaper weed right now, unless it's just bad weed," another told us. "In the winter months, things get dry, so it's pretty much take what you can get."

Not that it stops tokers from cutting back on they amount the buy. "I would cut other things from my budget first—like food—or I'd drink cheaper alcohol before I'd cut my weed budget," says one pothead. "That's like going without your medicine."

SCREWING
That same principle applies for the most illicit high of all—sex. Though most people are fortunate enough to indulge in the ultimate stress reliever without spending a dime, that isn't true for the lonelier souls among us. For them, it doesn't get any more convenient than scouring Craigslist. Polynesian playthings, full-figured cutie pies and buff Italian dudes are all online, hawking sensual "massages."

Most escorts pimping erotic services hung up in a flash when a reporter tried to ask a few questions about how business was going, but some say things are still just hunky-dory.

"It's still the same," says a woman who calls herself Diamond and advertises private dances for $75 a pop. "It's still the same because the same people who spend money for me in the first place are the ones who still have it. The ones who don't hardly spend are the ones who don't spend anyway."

An escort billed as Miranda admits she gets fewer calls these days. It isn't due to a tanking economy, but a police crackdown on Craigslist prostitution. "I've gotten less calls since all this Craigslist stuff has been going on, but I still manage to make it."

But spend any time poring over erotic services and you will see a plethora of ads offering early-bird services for a quick morning thrill.

More reliable, not to mention safer, are the titillating kicks at strip clubs. Sure, the new three-foot rule means you'll get hovered on at best, but that doesn't seem to be stopping men from pulling down their ball caps and heading out to gentlemen's clubs.

Déjà Vu manager Jason Helson says business has actually improved for the club that advertises hundreds of beautiful girls and three ugly ones. "Times are tough, but with any type of vice, people will always find a reason or a why or a how to do it," Helson says. "And everybody still finds time and money to go to strip clubs. Dancing and tipping have increased, and overall club profits have increased. In the last two months, we've done 80 percent more business than the last couple of years."

But most clubs have a cover that sets you back 5 or 10 bucks. Talk to aficionados, and they'll tell you the best pseudo-bang for your buck is at Ken's Gold Club, where happy hour means no cover and a one-drink minimum.

The unspoken rule is the closer you sit to the stage, the more likely you'll be approached for a dance or maneuvered into tipping. For the cheapskate at Ken's, make a beeline to the left, and sit as far away from the stage as possible. Order a coke for $5, or pay the dollar a beer BYOB fee, and sit back and watch the flesh parade.

Ken's is styled in the tradition of an 1850s Southern parlor, or so it advertises. It feels more like a French bordello with its velvet curtains, framed portraits of topless Southern belles and richly brocaded wallpaper. The lighting is dark and diffused, so dark you may have to squint even when the legs are spread and the goods are wiggled. And sure, there are some tramp stamp tattoos and clear heels clacking around, but overall, the quality of this meat is a solid B—better than what you typically get, strip club hounds tell us.

But here's the catch—at 4:15 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, you'll have to contend with a rather schlubby contingent of truck-stop types and shady dudes in jogging pants, all with glassy, seen-it-all stares. We saw three different naked, gyrating ladies in less than 30 minutes, so if you stick around for two hours, well, the cheap thrills add up—all for a total of $5 plus a tip to the waitress. True, it's rude not to tip the dancers. But these are tough times.