No Dancing at the Pink Pony Club: Florida Man Chose Arson Instead

Look, I don’t know this dude personally, but I think I know what happened. He pulled up to the Pink Pony Showgirls expecting a good time, maybe some music, maybe some dancing. And what did he get? A dark, empty building. No music. No neon lights. Just disappointment. And some people handle disappointment like adults. Others? Well, they start dragging brush inside and lighting the place up.

It’s like that song Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan, where the girl dreams of running off to L.A. to dance under neon lights and live out her fantasy. Now imagine if she got there and found out the club didn’t exist. No lights. No music. Just a vacant lot. That’s heartbreak. That’s rage. I’m not saying arson is the answer, but I am saying I understand why he might’ve snapped.

According to WFLA, this guy, Arvin Solimanpoor, took things way too far, though. Fire? Gunshots? Peeing in a bottle and throwing it at a cop? That’s next-level unhinged. But I have to ask, how bad was his night leading up to this? Did he just watch his team lose? Maybe he finally accept that his ex is never coming back? Did he just get off a shift at a terrible job, dreaming of some kind of escape, only to find the Pink Pony wasn’t there for him? We may never know.

But what we do know is this: He set a whole gentleman’s club on fire, got caught literally dragging kindling into the flames, then had the nerve to request a bottle of water at the station—only to turn it into a urine grenade. That’s a real commitment to bad decisions. Now, he’s sitting in jail, facing enough charges to keep him away from any club—real or imaginary—for a long time. Maybe in another life, the Pink Pony was open, the music was bumping, and he was just another guy throwing dollar bills instead of Molotov cocktails. But in this life? He’s in the Orient Road Jail, and the only dancing he’ll see is if someone’s got Footloose playing on the common room TV.