You read that correctly: a snake dance just broke out in a public dining area. Women commandeered partners! You can just imagine the scene – the club hussies showed up, produced a few dozen pieces of black cardboard with adhesive backing, and slapped them on the faces of strange men – in a public dining area! Everyone knew what that meant. Everyone knew. They’d heard the rumors. They’d read the articles in the Saturday Evening Post. They’d seen the covers of tawdry paperbacks in the drugstore: "Confessions of a Snake Dancer" and "I was a Teen-Aged Snake Dancer" and "Snake Dancers of Sodom." And now it was happening right in plain view - people, fully clothed, hunched over, lightly touching the shoulder blades of the opposite sex.
The last days of Rome, friend. The last days of Rome.