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Located in an unimpressive building on Industrial Road, only a block from the Trump Tower, sits a somewhat unlikely Las Vegas attraction.

The Erotic Heritage Museum has been around for awhile, but for some reason, I’ve always just assumed that the place was a trap.  I envisioned going inside, staring at a couple of posters on a wall, and then being herded into a strip club where I would be mercilessly hustled for lapdances until I was able to summon my inner ninja to stun my attackers and slip out the back door.

It is entirely possible that I have lived in this town for too long, because I no longer trust anyone or anything here, and my natural assumption is that everything is a complete scam.  More often than not, I’m correct (”Hey, how long are you in town for? Do you want to see a show?”), but after hearing some positive feedback from a couple of people that I do trust, I decided to finally go inside of the enigmatic “erotic museum”.

Upon entering the building adjacent to the Deja Vu strip club and crossing a street designed to look like a faux-”Red Light District”, I was met with a 17,000 square foot, two story space full of erotic paintings, sketches, sculptures, statues, posters, photos, and exhibits.  I was impressed.  Despite assurances to the contrary, my expectations going into the EHM were still quite low.  My assumption was still that the museum was simply a marketing gimmick for a strip joint, but once inside, I realized that much thought and effort was put into making this place its own legitimate attraction.

Of course, this was the “Erotic Heritage Museum”, and even though the displays were quite professional, they were still … erotic.  Television screens adorned walls while displaying pornographic movies, life-sized cut outs of porn stars were positioned in the corners, and there were enough dildos to satisfy Madonna for an entire hour.

Interspersed between the imagery were signs and plaques detailing the rise to fame of whatever specimen had caught your attention.  My personal favorite display was the peep show exhibit.  I remember these joints from 14th St. and Times Square back in the day, and I had always assumed that they were the creation of East Coast sleazemasters.

This was not so.  Apparently, peep shows have been around for 1,000 years, and were first performed with puppets.  Yes, puppets.  While I don’t think I could ever get aroused looking at two puppets fornicating, this should come as a great relief to anyone who has ever spanked it to anime.  As it turns out, you’re not weird, you’re retro.

As you can imagine, things might get a little awkward in a museum of this sort from time to time.  As I was standing in front of a video monitor showing an antique girl-on-girl reel, a middle-aged man and his middle-aged lady friend came and stood beside me, at which point they started playfully touching each other.  Granted, it was over the clothes, but still.  I tried to pretend that I didn’t see what they were doing, but it got a little too weird and I walked away.

FYI, when you use your hand to cup the crotch of your woman’s jeans in public, the two of you don’t magically become invisible.  The rest of us can see you, and we haven’t been taught the social graces of how to react in these specific situations.  If she’s exceptionally hot, we might be somewhat understanding, but if both of you are in your 40’s …. ewwwwwww.

I digress.

I have to say that I was surprised by just how professionally curated the museum was.  Being in a bi-level office building on Industrial, I was fully expecting it to be really silly and cheesy, but this was not the case.  This museum was painstakingly put together with equal amounts of education and titillation, and I actually learned quite a bit … even though I was probably not solidly in the museum’s target demographic.

You see, I’m not really into weird or kinky stuff.  Naked chicks are great, but I have no desire to see them hook jumper cables up to their nipples.

Though I find a lot of humor in the “erotic” genre, the fact of the matter is, I’m not a huge consumer of porn.  I don’t really like watching other people copulate.  As a germophobe, it kind of grosses me out.  When I watch a porn movie, instead of getting Erotic, I usually get NEUrotic, ie. “man, I hope she washed really well down there or that poor guy is going to get food poisoning”.

Instead of “porn” per-se, my visual preferences run more toward zoomed-out Playboy-type stuff where I don’t feel that I am conducting a gynecological examination.  In my book, a good bikini shot trumps a picture of a lady with her ankles behind her ears and a zucchini in her butthole.  Because of this, I was anticipating that the Erotic Heritage Museum might activate my gag-reflex a few times.

Fortunately, this did not happen.  Even the explicit displays were quite tastefully exhibited, and to their credit, the museum does not go for the jugular in the form of shock value.  I never perceived an exhibit going overboard trying to offend the viewer, and because of this … I found the museum to be appropriate for a wider demographic than I would have otherwise assumed.  Much like the Adult Entertainment Expo, it presents the subject matter with a dose of humor which makes it more palatable to even those of prudish inclination.

Another thing I really liked about the museum was the fact that the staff left me alone.  It wasn’t that they were anti-social; When customers approached with questions, the staff was eager to answer them.  They did, however, give everyone else their space and did not speak until spoken to.  In my mind, this makes them the perfect employees.

Unlike the Museum of Natural History (seriously, what in the hell does that mean?), The Erotic Heritage Museum is perhaps the epitome of truth in labeling.  It is, quite literally, a museum documenting the ins-and-outs of erotic entertainment since more or less the beginning of time.

After spending about 90 minutes perusing the establishment, I left impressed.  It exceeded my expectations, and I would go so far as to call it a “must visit” for anyone who has a proclivity toward the erotic arts.

At only fifteen bucks per person, it’s really quite reasonable, and if you start feeling a little freaky while perusing the exhibits … the Wynn Resort is only two blocks north.

Trust me, if you walk into that place wearing only nipple clamps and a thong, they’ll treat you right.

Enjoy.

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